An Empty Manger

But his mother treasured all these things in her heart. And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.~ Luke 2:51-52



Advent Blog; Day 20

When I was contemplating what my next blog should be the image of an empty cradle/manger came to mind. I thought about it for a few minutes. I think this is a return to the negative spaces technique I spoke of early in these blogs.

Mary catches herself gazing at a cradle. It was not so long ago, after all what is 20 yrs?  It seems like an age and yet almost like the blink of an eye. If she closes her eyes she can still hear the sounds of the rustling of straw underfoot, as Joseph repeatedly paces across the stable. She can smell the animals, they're warm rich scents. She can almost feel those first contractions and then, later the ones that took her breath away. She can hear the sound that she'd most longed to hear. In that moment when he'd arrived and she lay there bleeding. The silence that lasted seconds seemed like the time between creation itself and his arrival. It was eerie that silence. Just waiting for the noise, and then boy did it come. It erupted into the night, an explosion of life-affirming almost-indignation and it had been such a relief.

But the mangers empty now. The baby became a boy, the boy became a man. The seed took root, flourished and became a tree. It had been her time, exclusively hers. The shared looks as he grew. No-one could read him like she could. She remembers he used to have this little smile that he did only for her. All through his childhood, when he'd run in from the workshop, he'd always hugged her. She remembers how those hugs had changed, became less dependant and more giving. He'd held her so often for comfort but later he had held her to reassure her. Oh yes the manger was empty alright.Was it wrong to miss it so much?

And what is to become of him, the boy she raised as a gift from God. The boy to who she taught the old stories, the boy she steeped in scripture from his first moments. Where will all this lead. Sure, he had to grow up, of course, and she has loved every minute. She is so proud of the man he is becoming. There was that time in the temple, when they thought they had lost him. She knew then, beyond doubt, when they found him speaking with the Rabi's and asking such perceptive questions, knew that he was more than special. "Didn't you know I'd be in my Fathers house?". She'd known he was special, alright.

What will become of him. If he is really to be the Messiah, and, for her, there is no doubt? When will his time come and what will be the shape of that? Will he kick out the Romans and become king? She has a feeling it will be different to that, she has a feeling of foreboding and she cant put her finger on why. He was exclusively hers and yet, she always felt, in a way never quite hers entirely. Oh she felt like his mother alright, there was no lack of bond between them and the strength of affection was a connection like she had never known elsewhere. It's more than that. Because of the way he came to her she has always known he does not belong to her, in a way. He belongs to God first and, in a strange way he seems to belong to everyone.

The manger is empty and that time can never return. He is a fine man, a decent kind man now, with a sense of justice like she has never seen, with a wisdom that befits a man 3 times his age. He came not to brighten her life, not to be a comfort to her but to do a job. And she knows it. She must hold him lightly. But she remembers his growing and treasures it in her heart. This is her claim on him. He may become a saviour to others but only she will have ever been his mother. What will become of her boy?

I hope this little imagining has been helpful. I think that Christmas itself is like this. It is great to celebrate but it has a job to do, too. The baby became someone as he grew in favour with God and with mankind. And we have some growing to do. I will leave you with a little poem inspired by these musings.

The emptiness

An empty place in heaven,
The Son has left for a while,
The absence of his laughter,
is everywhere,

An empty space in a manger,
The child has grown into a man,
The place of his arrival,
Is but a stepping stone,

An empty place on the cross,
The saviour has come to nothing,
The jeering winds of mocking tongues,
Still whistle past its wood,

An empty ache in disciples hearts,
Their world has fallen apart,
They've been woken with a start
From the sleeping where they dreamt of thrones,

An empty place within a tomb,
He is risen from the dead,
An empty claim death had on him,
He's back just like he said,

An empty sky where they stand,
And stare...