Reflection for the 4th Sunday of Advent

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb.

Do you remember that line from the beautiful song, In the Bleak Midwinter? It’s a sweet piece about bringing whatever you have to offer to the tiny feet of the newborn Jesus, even if it’s only a little drum song.

I was teaching kindergarten Saturday class many years ago and telling the story of the First Christmas. I loved teaching about the shepherds being the first to know, to hear, to see Jesus. So I recounted the shepherds’ joy as they made their way to Bethlehem at the message of the angels in the night sky. Because the little ones’ attention span was as short as a lamb’s tail I suggested they get down on the rug and draw a picture of the shepherds on their journey, showing how happy they were. Crayons and blank paper excited them so they quickly set out to draw their pictures. Soon I heard two little boys in conversation.

“What’s THAT?” queried Edward.

“It’s Tom,” Matt replied patiently.

“Who’s Tom?” asked Edward.

I went over to see this shepherd that Matt was on a first name basis with. I looked down and saw a large oval with four sticks suspended from it and a smaller oval next to it with a huge smiley face inside. I wondered who Tom was, too. He didn’t look like any shepherd I’d ever seen.

Then Matt explained his masterpiece proudly:

“That’s my German Shepherd Tom going over to Befelhum to see Baby Jesus and he’s laughing ’cause he’s so happy Jesus came to them!”

I smiled to myself, realizing that one can never take anything for granted with little children, who always see things their way.

That memory kept interrupting my ponderings this short Advent season; how everything depends on one’s perspective. It’s all in the way we look at things, isn’t it? As I followed Mary in prayer along the dangerous road from Nazareth to Ain Karim to visit Elizabeth, a distance of about a hundred miles, I wondered what she was thinking along the way. She must have been in a caravan of some sort (no one would have let her make such a trip by herself) so it was a noisy crowd for sure, with bells clanging and men urging their tired animals forward. Yet Mary, who had newly given her assent to the invitation to be the Mother of the Messiah, would have surely been wondering prayerfully what it meant for her to bear a Child who would save the world.

At first she understood precious little about Jesus, except for what the prophets had foretold of Him, but those words were veiled in mystery. I catch my breath as I realize Mary had received her First Holy Communion at the Annunciation when the Holy Spirit blew the breath of Life into her womb, so she was making a long thanksgiving after Communion, as it were. What did she say to this unborn Jesus she hardly knew? How tenderly she must have leaned on the Holy Spirit to allay her uncertainties and to strengthen her hope, and how sweet must have been the hymns she sang softly to her Baby…. No one in the group knew anything about Mary’s secret, that God had intervened amidst the poverty of the people and the darkness in the hearts of so many of them, or that He was with them—among them–at every weary step. How gently Mary must have spoken to those around her. How her love for God and for her precious Child deepened to the marrow of her bone as she traveled the hundred miles to visit her cousin Elizabeth. What must her smile have been like? How beautifully radiant she must have become, as expectant mothers often do.

From my perspective, the trip to Ain Karim was a long Eucharistic procession that blessed every person in the group and all who passed by, even though they did not know it. Do you think there was a glow around that caravan? Did the angels sing in the night sky above them as they lay down to rest each evening? Did the travelers smile in spite of themselves? Don’t you suppose that was the trip of a lifetime, even though they might not have been able to explain it?

We ask our Beautiful Mother to let us accompany her in her travels–to Elizabeth’s house, and later to Bethlehem. In fact, let us recall that every time we encounter someone, Jesus in us reaches out in love to that person. Since we possess our God and are possessed by Him, we are all on Holy Ground because God is with us. Even more, God is within us.

That should make us radiantly happy (even as Matt’s German Shepherd was), because God came down from heaven to us.

And Mary said, “Oh, Yes, You are welcome here!” to Him, for each one of us.

I wish you a blessed Christmas. May you find yourself very close to Mary, and don’t forget to ask her to let you hold her Little Child. Offer Him whatever you can, even if it’s only a little drum song. From Jesus and Mary’s perspective, it will be all gold and myrrh and frankincense. After all, He is in love with you. Ah, they both are!

Merry Christmas, and have a holy, healthy New Year.