The ordinary blessing of being corrected...

Yesterday, while searching for a Dunkin' Donuts before cutting down our Christmas tree, I was talking with my wife about this Sunday's message. It is a reflection - especially for Protestants - on some of the insights of Mary. For some time I have been "pondering her wisdom and mysteries in my heart" and felt like lifting her up in worship would bring us balance - especially given the Reformed tradition's over emphasis on John the Baptist individuality - so all of my Advent reflections will be grounded in Mary.

At any rate, as I was sharing my three ideas with her - that John is harsh while Mary is patient, that John responds to God's call by fleeing into the desert to be alone while Mary embraces community, and that John's words to people are black and white demands for radical change while Mary asks Jesus to bring more wine to the feast - she said, "I can accept and appreciate that you are looking for a more Marian spirituality in your life but does it have to be either/or? Are you saying that there is no room for John and his radical challenge?" She then went on to talk about those in the congregation who ARE more like John - and how important they are, too.

Hmmmmm.... busted!

As soon as she started to reply I sensed deep in my gut that I had missed my own point. For in searching for balance I, too, was acting more like John than Mary by setting up the discussion in exclusive ways.

And that's what I mean about the ordinary blessing of being corrected: we can't see our own shadows. In fact, we need the wisdom and insights of others to help us name and deal with them. And only when they are named - and owned - can we consciously incorporate them into our lives.

It reminded me of the way an old urban pastor friend used to write his sermons: he would study the scriptures together on Monday with five diverse lay people in his congregation - mostly working class and/or unemployed folk - and then write a draft sermon for them to discuss together on Thursday evening. They would gathering in some one's home, have a little food and beer and then listen to the sermon and offer their critiques: where did it ring true? where was it bullshit? what was still unclear? why did it even matter?

There is an ordinary blessing in being corrected by another in love that helps make the grace of God flesh. A poem about Mary by Mary Karr hints at this like this:

As the boy's bones lengthened,

and his head and heart enlarged,

his mother one day failed

to see herself in him.

He was a man then, radiating

the innate loneliness of men.

His expression was ever after

beyond her. When near sleep

his features eased towards childhood,

it was brief.

She could only squeeze

his broad shoulder. What could

she teach him

of loss, who now inflicted it

by entering the kingdom

of his own will?

It is starting to snow now: I'm off soon to meet with my spiritual advisor/friend for our every two week discussion of how things are going? I am glad that I was busted. Later I need to practice a Luka Bloom song we're doing for worship - another take on Mary - that is so gentle it makes me weep.