Born of Woman

I was blog-hopping this morning when I ran across a very thought-provoking post from Christy at Dry Bones Dance about Mary, the mother of Jesus. The first thought it provoked was to recommend it. So I do.

The second thought it provoked in me was how much I still am stuck in my gender.

A couple of posts back, I wrote about the First Christmas and the strangely muted part Joseph played in it all. I could do that because I've been a father and a husband, and I've watched life, in both of those roles, go so very far off the track I had supposed it would take. I had thought to write something about Mary, too. But ... what? I could suppose some things, but ... hey, what do I really know? I witnessed a birth -- I saw my second son come in the world -- but I have no idea, really, of what it was like to bear him and birth him. I can't speak to that. It's an experience I cannot have.

More importantly, it's an experience I cannot benefit from, except second hand. I cannot discover it on my own. I cannot imagine it or discern it. I cannot find it in my Bible. I must be taught the wisdom that only comes to mothers, in this particular case, and to women in the general sense, by women. I am utterly dependent on her for half of what God intended for me. While I suppose some of the wise things God has taught uniquely to women also may be found in the Bible, I can't find that wisdom there without the help of someone who has Her eyes.

If the church is guided by those with His eyes, but only rarely by those with Hers, how is it then that we will become the Bride, whom Christ awaits?