The Miracle of Mary Beth
Not much writing lately, in the wake of the blessed arrival of Mary Beth; a daughter we had named nine months ago. She is a daughter, who was safely enshrined in her mother’s womb, spoken to daily, sung to, prayed for, and adored, before a single ray of sunshine ever struck her delicate skin. And now, in our midst, with the beguiling scent of birth fading, she has nary a moment to herself, passed from one set of small hands to another, basking in an outpouring of affection that can only be brought forth by little one such as these.
And this is the miracle of Mary Beth, that she could tame hearts so wild, and natures so erratic and explosive, in her gentle silence, her fragility, her innocence. In her, I am reminded of the desperate, devastating humility of the Christ, having ‘emptied himself and taken the form of a servant,’ in so delicate a form - a being completely at the whims of a world that can be so violent and cruel, to ‘little ones such as these’ as much as to any. The presence of new life in a busy household forces us to pause, to breath, the ponder and marvel at the miracle wrought by love, in the covenant and sanctuary of a marriage that welcomes life more than it would welcome any earthly comfort or convenience. It reminds us of the miracle of motherhood, in which the patience, the strength, the resolve of any beloved woman can be so sorely tested, but so wonderfully tempered and channeled in an unbridled love for a new life, a new soul, a new son or daughter to bear one’s name and lead to Christ above all else.
I ponder the heart that is hardened by the miracle of new life, baffled, incensed and bitter in the face of such innocence and beauty. I fail to understand the means by which the world has twisted our understanding of this miracle to bear the hallmarks of burden, cost and suffering above all other appreciations. I’m saddened by the reduction of life to random iterations of cellular phenomena, unrelated and unimportant in the scheme of a political, personal and economic engagement that trumps the wonder and workings of God’s greatest creation, and a co-redemptive engagement in the work of mercy and salvation in the love we bear for our children and the world around us. I wonder how the world can seek to reduce our appreciation and understanding of life to science, only to turn its back on the uncomfortable, confronting and irrevocable truths that biology brings us about the intimate wonders of new life, knit together in our mothers’ wombs.
When we pray the joyful mysteries of the rosary, and reach the visitation of our Blessed Mother, at least one of the kids will cry out: This is Mary Beth’s mystery, recognising the wonder, silence and humility of Our Lady’s journey to Elizabeth, who granted divine inspiration would proclaim: ‘blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.’ She asks, startled by the child in her womb who ‘leapt for joy’ at the sound of Mary’s greeting, why ‘has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?’ Mary’s response, the Magnificat, speaks to the near unspeakable wonder of the incarnation, recounting:
My soul glorifies the Lord,
My spirit rejoices in God my saviour
He looks upon her servant in her lowliness
Henceforth all ages shall call me blessed
The almighty works marvels for me
Holy his name,
His mercy is from age to age on those who fear him,
He puts forth his arm in strength,
And scatters the proud hearted,
He casts the mighty from their thrones,
And raises the lowly,
He fills the starving with good things,
Sends the rich away empty,
He protects Israel his servant,
Remembering his mercy,
The mercy promised to our fathers,
To Abraham and his sons forever.
These marvels worked for us, with each child formed in sanctuary of the women we love, may not be the Word made flesh; may not render our beloved wives the ‘Theotokos,’ the God bearer; but irrevocably elevate and revere every wife, every mother, in wondrous and revered image of Mary, who shall for all ages be called ‘blessed.’ As every parent knows, the humble and willing servitude of the tender babe that comes forth from the sanctuary of their mother’s womb, indeed ‘scatters the proud hearted’ and ‘casts the mighty from their thrones.’ As each one of us serves, tends and protects the child in the womb, in the manger, in their mother’s arms, we serve, tend and protect the wondrous miracle of life itself, our Lord Himself, whom we should clothe when he is cold, and feed when he is hungry.
In our humble labour as fathers and mothers, may our service be rendered to the Lord, in the guise of the child, whom He Himself honoured and acclaimed. We read in the Gospel of Mark that he was displeased with the disciples who rebuked the parents who brought their children to him for a blessing: “Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of God.” In our ambition, our pursuit of worldly comfort, pleasure, accomplishment, we can quickly fail to recognise the blessing, the miracle, of each life given to us to protect, to nurture, to tend. The hidden blessing of her birth remind us of the fragility of life, the wonder of the incarnation, the love that God has for each and every one of us - evident in the love that she evokes in us, in her brothers and sisters, all desperate to have, hold and care for their little sister.
It can also remind us of the illusions of our age: the glamour of wealth; the obsession with convenience and comfort; the construction and curation of the ‘self’ and one’s narrative… To let it all fall away, and give oneself to the service of a tender child, bears fruit in all our lives, in virtue, hope and humility. This is the miracle of Mary Beth.