The Way of Mary: Vulnerability

 Good Thursday morning, good pilgrims on The Way of Mary. A very strange phenomenon has happened. At least, in all the years we've been living here, it's not happened.

Apparently, the wind is so very strong on the ocean that it is moving the water out of the Bay. To replenish that, the water is moving out from the estuaries and marshes to the Bay. Indeed, the word is that the Ferry from Lewes to Cape May is not running this morning until high tide arrives.

The marsh in front of our house looks more than bare. There's a sort of obscene nakedness to seeing the rocks and mud and skeletons of dead creatures strewn across its bare bottom.

It's probably no surprise, then, that the word that appeared to me in this morning's meditation on The Way of Mary was this:

Vulnerability.

I am really weary of the sort of sappy, saccharine, romantic notions we have been told about the vulnerability of Mary. It seems to me that it has been used as a tool to keep women, like Mary, "meek and mild". Read: Compliant with the dominant social and religious paradigms of power.

So, I tread with no small amount of trepidation on the subject of the vulnerability of Mary in particular and the vulnerability of women in general.

As no doubt a remedy to what can sometimes seem like an obsession with Mary in the Roman Church, the Protestant traditions err on the other side, making her almost invisible.

We seem only to pay attention to her because she birthed Jesus. We make her a necessary character in the Annual Christmas Pageant - center stage - where she is portrayed by the sweet, shy adolescent female member of the congregation as a passive, docile, and insignificant character in the Gospel story. We might even sing enchanting Christmas hymns about the "most highly favored lady," as we join our voices with the angels and sing, "Glo-oooooh - ria."

And then, the costumes and props and sheet music get put away and we don't think about Mary for another year.

I'd like to offer another consideration of Mary's vulnerability. I think Mary's vulnerability was the strength she needed to face all of the curious and often painful consequences of having said Yes to the divine messenger named Gabriel.

It wasn't enough that she had to deliver her child out in the middle of somewhere outside of The Little Town of Bethlehem, without family or friends or midwife, only her new husband, and a few animals and the stars in the sky. No, there would be more consequences to her election to follow this strange path.

Mary perhaps did not understand but heard clearly the prophecy of Simon about the pain she would experience as he grew older. She must have known the dangers involved when her new husband insisted, based on a dream he had, that they must take refuge in Egypt where they reportedly lived for many years.

The only other story we have from those early days of the childhood of Jesus was the one about him being lost in the Temple in Jerusalem for three days. Surely, she must have taken the words of the adolescent boy Jesus, and pondered them in her heart when he said, " "Why were you searching for me? Didn't you know I had to be in my Father's house?"

To be a good parent - to someone like Jesus or any child of God, really - takes enormous vulnerability. Because there are no guarantees in life, there is much uncertainty in parenting.

Much is critically said about today's "helicopter parents" who hover over their children's every move. With this much chaos and calamity in the world, I really can't say that I blame them.

Here's what I know about Mary's vulnerability that I apply to my own life. Vulnerability is not about victory or defeat. Vulnerability is about having the courage to show up for your life, to say yes to your life, no matter what hand life deals you.

Brene Brown says that vulnerability is the boldness to be present, to be seen even when you have no control over the outcome. It is about asking for what you need, and having hard conversations in which you talk about how you are feeling.

I often wonder if Mary didn't have those hard conversations with Joseph which prompted the dream he had to protect his new family in a "flight to Egypt".

Being vulnerable means you are honest - brutally honest, if necessary - with who you are and how you feel. Being vulnerable takes enormous integrity and authenticity, two character traits that are not valued by this society - especially in young women and men who are encouraged to take gender-specific roles.

I mean, isn't that really what the brouhaha over transgender or non-binary kids is really all about? They don't fit into carefully prescribed societal, gender-specific roles. Their vulnerability is an affront to some people. Offensive. Obscene.

Being vulnerable means that you acknowledge - at least to yourself - the parts of yourself that you would rather keep hidden. It's about believing the truth of your own story rather than accepting the story you put out about yourself on social media, about your fabulous vacations and your perfect family and your wonderful life.

Vulnerability is about, as the kids say, "keepin' it real" - not in a vulgar, offensive, obscene way, but at least with God and the people who are most important to you in your life.

This searing understanding of your real self is critically important when the winds blow and the tide shifts and, through no fault of your own, you find yourself exposed and naked to the world.

Or, like Mary, a lifetime of vulnerability is what helps you make it through a time when you see your child, your own firstborn child, naked and exposed and suffering at what Martin Smith called "the crucifyingly obscure boundaries of life".

As I travel along The Way of Mary, I'm learning that her vulnerability is her superpower. As I enter this season in my own life of uncertainty, I am paying closer attention to the vulnerability of Mary so that I can pay closer attention to my own.

I'm learning not to take my perceived weaknesses for granted. I don't want to "just make it through" this time in my life. Rather, I am seeking to learn from walking The Way of Mary how to use my weaknesses as vehicles of the strength to transform and change and grow into more of who I am meant to be and what I am called to do in the time that I am here.

I invite you to spend some time today to move away from the romantic and the saccharine and into discovering the harsh realities of the strength of your own vulnerability.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.