What a Tale of Two Mothers Tells Us About God
By: Ilana Reimer
Tags: Incarnation, Christmas, Advent, Mary, Christianity

Some of us have heard the story of Christ’s birth countless times.

The cast of characters, plot, and setting are so well-known the whole thing can start to feel more like a fairy-tale than real life.

Our decorations dwell on what seem to be the most glamorous parts: bright stars, angels singing in the sky, and men in glittering robes bringing exotic gifts.

But the most remarkable part of the story shocks us in its ordinariness.

A young woman encounters the Holy Spirit — causing her to carry God himself in her body.

The fleshy and mundane meets the glorious and unfathomable. The Creator of the universe fits inside the womb of an obscure Jewish woman. A woman we still know little about.

In Luke’s Gospel, the angel tells her, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the most High will overshadow you.” (Luke 1:35, NIV)

We cannot begin to imagine what that was like for Mary. But this tender language suggests an experience of profound intimacy and knowing, perhaps greater than what any other human will experience in this life.

There was no grand show or likely even an audience. Surely there would have been more fanfare in 2020. Mary could have at least had a Twitter account.

But no.

Heaven met earth beautifully and simply. And it looked like a woman becoming pregnant.

Could he have chosen a subtler way?

God is a force outside the natural laws governing our universe. Yet he has the kindness to act in ways that are incarnate and comprehensible to us.

Christ is the Word who can hold the details of the galaxies in a single syllable. Christ is the Word who can contain the information for human DNA in his breath.

This same Word became a baby.

That act of astonishing humility and superb commitment to humanity defies description.

This painting by Scott Erickson, inspired by an original work by Sister Grace Remington, has stayed at the forefront of my mind this Advent.

Eve and Mary — two women from different lands and centuries — greet each other with mingled affection, guilt, and hope.

They’re both shy. Unsure how to respond to the glory between them. Yet despite being strangers, they share a deep kinship.

One woman is the mother of human life. The other is the mother of God, who gives us eternal life.

And they’re on different ends of the same story of shame and prophecy. They have places in a supernatural story that exists both within human history and extends beyond it.

It’s a story we share. We’re part of that legacy of sin and suffering. We all hope for a world where love, justice, and mercy have the last word.

How is it possible to look at a painting of two women we’ve never met and see both our origin and our destiny?

I cannot fathom the kind of God who, having all power accessible to him, would choose to have his story look like this.

I cannot fathom this God. But I am awed by him.

“The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God — children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God. The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” (John 1:9–14, NIV)

Oh, Lord Christ, you embody love and mercy.

May we receive you.