Dear God, on this Christmas morning, I want to spend some time with Eve and Mary. With this image. I want to see myself in Eve. I want to embody the shame on her face. The clutching of the apple. The serpent wrapped around her legs, ready to trip her. She is us. She is all of us. She is Adam. She is Abraham. She is David and Solomon. She is Peter. She is Paul. Frankly, she is even Mary and Joseph.
I think I mentioned this a couple of days ago, but I heard an Orthodox priest say last week that the Incarnation actually happened with Mary’s visit from Gabriel. The birth was the forthcoming of the incarnation, but the plan was officially in motion at that point. At least the part of the plan we can see.
But how am I like Eve, as depicted here by Sister Grace Remington? I come to you with a mixture of shame and wonder. She knows what she did. I know what I’ve done–mostly. Some things I’ve done wrong that I don’t even know, but I know I’ve failed you, myself, and others around me. And then to reach out at marvel at what is inside of Mary. To wonder what exactly it means. Not even Mary and Joseph knew exactly what the unborn Jesus would mean to them and to the world.
I see Satan trying to wrap himself around me. To hold me back. To trip me. To strike at my heel. To keep me from you. That is, after all his ultimate goal: to keep me from you.
Mary is holding Eve’s hand and her shoulder. Fellow sojourners. Fellow mothers. One with an awesome responsibility and yet in as much need as Eve. Mary is linked to Eve and Adam as much as I am. They are part of me. Their legacy lives on in me and the rest of us. And I don’t judge them. I love them. I appreciate them. I appreciate their strengths and their weaknesses. Their vulnerabilities.
Of course, Mary is crushing the serpent’s head with her foot. Some non-Catholics might take exception to this, but I don’t see this as Mary doing this, but the act of her obedience to play a role in the Incarnation as doing it. That’s what this process is about. That thing that is wrapped around me legs, that tries to keep me from you, is destroyed. Killed. If only I will ask the child Mary once carried inside of her to do it for me.
Eve doesn’t want to let go of the apple just yet. Yes, I have sins that I hold onto. I’m better. I think I’m better. I think I’ve let go of a lot of it. Help me, Father, to let go of all of it.
Father, Jesus, Holy Spirit, as I sit here on this Christmas morning, I find myself really being grateful. First, you did something very kind for my wife and me last night. Thank you. We really needed it. Take this little life of mine and use it to love others today, tomorrow, and for as long as it draws breath–and even beyond.
I pray to the Father in Jesus and with your Holy Spirit,
Amen
Emails to God 