Mother Mary Comes to Me

Every year when I was in elementary school, an eighth grade girl was chosen to play Mary for the school pageant. I distinctly remember the year Mary was played by a girl of Asian-Indian descent. She had the blue veil hair-pinned onto her thick curtain of raven hair. And even though she was brown-skinned, unlike the milkmaid European Mary, she had the demure but put-upon persona totally spot-on. She got to do the walk up the auditorium aisle, humble but chosen, fake-pregnant, the spotlight on her and her just-barely pubescent Joseph. Because of my name and because I was full of hope, I was sure the role would be mine until 7th grade, when our class joined the highschool and there was no more k-8 pageant. My hopes were dashed.

I grieve the loss of that pageant, it was wonderful. Every afternoon during Advent was devoted to rehearsal for the pageant. Kindergarteners were, of course, angels in white with tinsel garland halos. Eighth graders were chosen for the roles of the Holy Family. Most of the rest of us were the chorus, who stood on risers flanking the stage. But even this was fun, singing our hearts out to "Hark the Herald" or even "the Cherry Tree Carol," which was my favorite. The night of the pageant was always so fun, older sibs would return from college and be there to watch. The nuns were relieved and uncharacteristically jovial, blushing over our sloppy but heartfelt performance. Though I loved this night, the fact that I never got to play Mary is something I'm still getting over. My sister got to be the first girl ever to play the role of Angel Gabriel, a part she SO wanted. That year, Mary was played by my sister's little Irish friend, rosy-cheeked and virginal, but the fact that she was 9 was somehow not the same. The year I should have played Mary, I spent all of Advent going to lame basketball games and junior high dances that still give me existential dread.

Anyway, last Sunday, for Advent's second Sunday, I was asked to read Mary's Song as the Call to Worship. I knew I could look at it two ways: 1) see it as our church's trick to get my family to church on time for once OR 2) believe in the redemption of happening to be pregnant during Advent and believing our friend when he said that I would be gifted at reading this song as someone sho could really portray Mary's message. So, Sunday morning, I put on my most distinguished black cashmere turtleneck and black corduroy skirt for lack of a pale blue veil and flowing white gown. I had listened to the Luke passage on BIble Gateway read by a British actor. I had rehearsed the 9 verses with Geoff. So I went up there and gave it everything I had. I wanted to put across Mary's sense of feeling like she had won the lottery, feeling CHOSEN. I also wanted to portray her sense of feeling a part of a greater story than hers. I also wanted to NOT twist my ankle when I made my way up to the microphone.

After my short reading, Geoff and the kids came up to light the second Advent candle. So there we stood, a little humble family, holy in our own way. I could not have felt more blessed at Christmas, fecund with child, chosen for a role in God's story and availed so much grace.