Thursday, December 14, 2017

Advent Lessons

Last night I stayed a bit later at work.  I was trying to help a student who had missed the final exam.  Because I was subbing for the teacher this week, I had exams on hand, and last night was the student's last chance. 

Why did I do this?  Why did I care?  He's graduating.  But truth be told, I'd have done the same for any student.  The other students in the class all made it in for Tuesday's exam.

I know that my efforts may not save him.  As I walked to my car, I reminded myself that there's only so much I can do.  The words of John the Baptist echoed in my brain, "I am not the Messiah."  I try to remind myself with those words--it's a strange mantra, I know.  But it's one I'd recommend to many people.

During some Decembers, it's the prophetic angle of the stories that speak to me.  Some years, it's the angel visitations.  This year, I find myself thinking a lot about Elizabeth.  In December, many churches give a Sunday to the Virgin Mary.  Her cousin, Elizabeth, hosts a miraculous baby too, but how many of us focus on her story?

She's not supposed to be pregnant; the Gospel of Luke reminds us that she and her husband are very old.  I think of all the ways that one's body changes not only with adolescence, but with old age.  I think of my own 52 year old feet, not swollen with pregnancy, but with arthritis.  I cannot imagine pregnancy right now.  And Elizabeth was older than I am.

I spent my younger years declaring that biology isn't destiny:  we can do whatever we want, no matter what bodies we inhabit. 

My middle-aged self is willing to admit that biology is often destiny, in ways we can't imagine when we're young. I'm seeing too many people at the mercy of bodies that they have increasingly less control over.  I've seen far too many people ravaged by the cancer cells that take over.

But the Mary and Elizabeth story reminds us of the body's miraculous capacity.  This year, I'm focused on life springing from improbable places.  I'm thinking of these pregnancies as metaphors, and it's Elizabeth's pregnancy that speaks to me this year.

In a culture like ours that worships youth and beauty, it is good to have these alternate stories.  As I see lists of writers and artists that are hip and under the age of 35 or 30, I like remembering that our fertility doesn't have to end with menopause.

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