While in Israel we visited Bethlehem. There is a church built over what they believe would have been the stable where he was born. More of a cave, you can descend into its gullet by narrow stairs in the back of the looming religious artifice.
And in the basement there, you see the stone carved out of nature and time, and wonder at the animals that were likely kept there. You can imagine an inn – further down the way (indeed, covered by another church), and you can imagine Mary, and Joseph too, wandering from place to place, looking for rest after their journey.
As I entered the cave I wondered:
Did Mary pray for a better place to stay?
I’ve never considered it before – I’ve always accepted the Nativity, with all it’s details of Christ’s birth, as part of . . . you know, the plan; the will of God – to be born below all, to ascend above all.
But for the first time I considered Mary’s perspective, without two millennia to give hindsight its clarity, perhaps she was distraught at her circumstances. Perhaps she implored the Lord – please, just let us find a place to stay.
And maybe Joseph, by now enlightened by the angel as to the majesty of his unborn steward, and by his own goodness that put him in this position of trust, perhaps he was distraught, please Lord, let me find a place for us to stay.
So there they were, two people feeling, surely, all the weight of a divine calling, and feeling, perhaps, that they were failing in the first attempt!
Not only that, but maybe, perhaps, they felt abandoned by the Lord when earnest pleas seemed to fall on silent ears. The Heavens seemed closed, and there was no room for them at the inn.
And so, instead, they finally found refuge in a stable . . . a barn . . . a cave. And there the days were accomplished, and there Mary brought the Christ into the world. Without luxury. More than that, without comfort. So simple and humble and beautiful in today’s tale, but perhaps stark and a bit frightening for a young woman bringing forth her first born.
I thought about how Mary, who not only was “chosen of the Lord,” but was carrying the weight of an eternal calling, by all accounts with faith and grace, may have felt when her prayers were not answered.
Did she feel abandoned? Discouraged? Did her faith fail her, even for the slightest moment?
And then I thought about myself (as I am wont to do). Does the gravity of my prayers compare to Mary’s in Bethlehem? Certainly not, not at this point in my life anyway. But does my faith slip when answers are not as expected? At times. Do I have a sense of entitlement to have my prayers answered on my timeline, in my way? Yes, I often do.
Mary is not a person we know much about. She shows herself again in the New Testament throughout Christ’s life and ministry . . . and of course, at his feet in his final hours. She must have continued in faith. She must have stayed the course. But in those moments at the beginning of her story . . . how did that affect her relationship with God?
I suspect, like all prayers, answered and unanswered, time gave her perspective. We are even told she ‘kept these things and pondered them in her heart.’ So she must have had her own wonderment at the miracles that would become the story of her life.
It was humbling to be there, among the hillsides and the town where she brought forth her first son. It was humbling to think of Mary and her example of faith, never ending. What a lesson for me to remember, that God’s plan is not arbitrary, nor are His ears deaf. I just need to remember I may need a few centuries to understand the magnitude, and see the beauty of sometimes, perhaps, unanswered prayers.
Israel, Day 7 (Tour Day 4) –
The Old City of Jerusalem and the Via Dolrosa (The Way of Grief) –
Later I was telling this story to my in-laws, and Wyatt piped in, before I even got to the part of where I was, and said “It was the Church of the Holy Sepulchre!” And I looked at him, amazed, and said “YES!”
He said that he learned when he was there, doing a study abroad with BYU, that the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is one of the most evil places on earth. His professors told him to not even bother going there, and they never took the students there.
Anyhow, this picture is the only one I have of the place. It’s the door, outside.
