The Sunday before Christmas, we were treated to one of the most moving passages in the Gospels:
Mary set out
and traveled to the hill country in haste
to a town of Judah,
where she entered the house of Zechariah
and greeted Elizabeth.
When Elizabeth heard Mary's greeting,
the infant leaped in her womb,
and Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit,
cried out in a loud voice and said,
"Blessed are you among women,
and blessed is the fruit of your womb.
And how does this happen to me,
that the mother of my Lord should come to me?
For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears,
the infant in my womb leaped for joy.
Blessed are you who believed
that what was spoken to you by the Lord
would be fulfilled." (Luke 1:39-45)
At the Annunciation, the angel Gabriel told Mary that Elizabeth was already in her sixth month; so, by the time of the Visitation, Elizabeth must have been almost ready to give birth. We mothers can attest that, by the end of the third trimester, the baby can't so much as yawn or wiggle a toe without getting our attention. That baby moves and we feel it! As newborns, some of my babies had the habit of rhythmically turning their heads from side to side, or of putting one arm up over their heads -- and, seeing it for the first time, I thought: Oh, so that's what you were doing in there, you little one! Odd sensation, to be so familiar with a phenomenon without actually knowing what it is.
I was thinking about the movement of babies far away on the other end of pregnancy -- in those first few months, when things are so tentative. Those first several weeks can be very odd: you know, intellectually, that there is a tiny life inside you -- but feeling like it's real is another thing altogether. I remember taking a book out of the library and reading over and over, "Your baby is now the size of a grain of rice."
"My baby" -- words that meant everything and nothing to me. I believed with all my heart that this little person was present -- was actually a human being who existed in the world, with an immortal soul and specific, unique DNA. I knew that my life had changed forever. I knew precisely (at least in an academic way) what was going on inside me -- and yet I didn't actually have any experience of it, beyond being tired. My belly was flat. My life was the same. And yet I was no longer alone, and never would be again.
In that first part of pregnancy, the weeks go by, and the weeks go by, and the books say that you might start to feel movement. They say that new mothers may not be able to identify the sensation of fetal movement as early as experienced mothers do; but I've found that it has less to do with experience, and more to do with how I'm carrying the baby. I remember very clearly how it was when I felt my first baby move: like a drop of water dropping into a bucket. Plip! Just like that. And nothing else feels that way.
But with other babies, it was a fizz, or a flutter, or a twitch. Some babies, I felt it early, and some, not until nail-bitingly late. Some babies, I couldn't tell apart from gas until I was well into the second trimester. It depended on how I was carrying them.
But here's the thing: when I couldn't feel the baby move -- or couldn't be sure that what I was feeling was actually the baby -- I was still pregnant. I still had to act as if I were pregnant: taking my vitamins, taking it easy, not smoking, not drinking more than a glass here and there. Making plans. Changing my plans. Taking this new life into account. I knew what I carried, even if I couldn't feel any movement yet. I knew that, God willing, the baby would grow.
And that is where we all are, at one time or another. It's not just pregnant moms who are faced with this odd disparity of knowledge and sensation. Dear fetal John the Baptist leaped for joy because he was made for the specific purpose of telling people that his dear fetal savior was near. And his mother Elizabeth, whether through the intuition of pregnancy, or through a gift of knowledge from the Holy Spirit, knew why her little son jumped: she knew that it was the Lord, the little blessed one, the tiny Messiah, hiding inside His mother.
He was still so young, so small. Had Mary felt Him move yet? We don't know. But we do know that she believed He was there. She believed.
Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled. Blessed are we, men, women, and children who hold the Lord within us. We cannot always feel Him move. We do not always know what that sensation is: is it the Lord, moving, stirring, making Himself known? Or is it something else? Blessed are we who are not sure. We cannot see any signs that He is with us. We read the manuals and we try to believe. Even when His presence doesn't seem real, we continue to behave as if we are sure.
We speak to the Child, and hope He can hear.
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Absolutely beautiful. Thank you Simcha.
:) :)
Thank you for leading us a little closer to our Blessed Mother and her Son.
Oh, I love this.
This is beautiful. There are so many layers of emotion on a mother’s journey toward holding her child. She laughs for joy when that final barrier is broken—moments before she may have wept in agony. For some of us, that joy of meeting will take many decades, but our joy will be complete…“blessed are you who believed”...
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What really struck me for the first time when I heard Elizabeth’s words, the other morning at mass, was what you have highlighted here: *uncertainty. How could anyone experience *uncertainty* if a majestic angel of God said that “it” would be so? How did Zechariah doubt? Meditating upon this, all I could come up with was the fact that angels hide the majesty of their true appearance. They are dream-like, difficult to focus upon, like dappled sunlight—most humans wouldn’t be able to discern them at all. Mary, who was sinless, trembled as she experienced more of the *reality* of Gabriel than any other human could.
“...by the end of the third trimester, the baby can’t so much as yawn or wiggle a toe without getting our attention. That baby moves and we feel it!”
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In Catechism class during Advent I waddle around like Mary with Jesus kicking inside me: “Joseph, I am >so< ready to have this baby!” And then compare a woman’s pregnancy to Advent: every pregnant mom has a little Advent of her own.
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I like the idea that whenever Jesus draws near, John reacts. I can use that in class to tie the Visitation to the Baptism in the Jordan.
We cannot always feel Him move. We do not always know what that sensation is: is it the Lord, moving, stirring, making Himself known? Or is it something else? Blessed are we who are not sure. We cannot see any signs that He is with us. We read the manuals and we try to believe. Even when His presence doesn’t seem real, we continue to behave as if we are sure.
We speak to the Child, and hope He can hear.
This is me, now. Struggling with my faith for almost a year. Thank you for this.
I am sharing. This is lovely. RE: the last sentence…1 Jn 5:14
Simcha, thanks. Faith has gotten tough for me lately. The path is uncertain. I don’t know what he’s telling me to do. What’s his voice and what’s my own ego? All I can do is keep at it, take a deep breath. Speak to the Child and hope He can hear.
Thank you.
Great post! I will bookmark this for later.
One of your best, Simcha. Thanks.
My good friend and atheist will enjoy this. She grew up Catholic and was Catholic schooled. However, she tells me, “She does not feel God. So there is no God.” She is the mother of three girls.
Truly touching. Sometimes this sensation of uncertainty comes before making a tough but important decision. Or taking a hard action. Or leaving behind an essentially destructive habit. Or stepping out on that “high road” despite risk.
While a wife is the “actor” in this drama of new life, the husband is the “guarantor” that it’s going to be all right. Talk about faith!
When my daughter was expecting my granddaughter, she’d forward me emails from a site that she’d signed up with that describes the unborn child’s development month by month-“Your baby’s now the size of a bean. Your baby now has fingernails,etc..”
It seemed so ironic that moms who WANT the child are told it’s a “baby”, those who don’t are told it’s just disposable “products of conception.” I guess the emails were connected to some marketing service that tracks the user to sell baby products.If you want the child & will buy stuff for it, then it’s a human being.“Wantedness” & consumerism seem to define who lives & who does not.
I would love to see you write like this all time, and leave the snark behind. It’s really uplifting and beautiful, and fosters charity instead of bitterness. Whenever I read your snarky stuff I find myself laughing at other Catholics and their follies, and it leaves me cold and guilty after the fun is over. This is the best you! I love it.
@ Heather,this morning I was thinking about how Mr. Voris, if he means well, (which I think he does) will take some of what went down to heart. We all need a little nip and some shaving off of our egos. *All* of us. Sometimes a “son of thunder” needs to be told, “Hey! You there! Son of thunder—chill. You’re acting scandalously.” There doesn’t need to be bitterness. Not if one doesn’t nurse a super sized sense of grandeur.
Oh—and there’s this little part of me that lives in fear of Simcha’s editors taming her beyond recognition. It would be like a Teresa of Avila, who couldn’t laugh about the one-eyed princess of Eboli, or who didn’t take her sisters in Carmel to task. Then she’d be just another super sweet nun that levitated above our heads.
‘I remember taking a book out of the library and reading over and over, “Your baby is now the size of a grain of rice.”—that is a powerful image.
I needed this this morning. Last night we had another home maintenance crisis, which threatens to overwhelm our already strained finances. My husband in a moment of tired distress wondered why it seems that “God is not helping us” (as we sink deeper into debt). In our more rational (morning) moments we both know he is or as you reminded us this morning - we cannot feel Him moving, but we continue to believe.
Thank you for this.
Merry Christmas.
I struggled with my faith and reality won! I’m much happier now.
Reality won, and the “true democrat” lost. How like the entire party.
It’s funny how many faithful Catholics are struggling with the same issues as Kate and Kathleen. Just today I sat with someone who was distraught over personal issues of faith. It was painful to witness, and to experience. However, it’s this exact situation that Revelation anticipates when Jesus says to John, “to the one who conquers I will award the crown.” If your doubt seems particularly distressing, remember John’s contemporaries were facing down wild beasts in the Roman Coliseum. Crowns don’t come cheap.
There is always the proverbial “realist,” who surrenders his or her faith in tough times. I’m reminded of the cattle skull in “Death Valley Days.” That beeve drank poisoned waters - and died. At least we know now not to drink from the same well.
Matt B,
Happy New Year’s Eve!
I’m a little puzzled. Is there another “Kathleen” you’re referring to? I was just remembering something ironic/sad more than struggling with any issue.
Over the weekend I watched a DVD about the Roman Empire during the 1st Century AD.It was pretty rough being a Christian or a Jew under Caesar.They struggled with wild critters & crazed emperors as well as issues-as you point out.
Anyway, I hope you have a blessed 2013 & none of us end up in the Colliseum next year.
“You have believed because you have seen Me”. Blessed are those who have not seen, yet still believe”.
I would love to be known as that guy if I ever make it to heaven.
This is beautiful! You painted a beautiful picture that I can completely relate to! Thank you! :-)
Thank you, Kathleen, and all the best to you and yours!
“Though our bodies be beaten down by life, like the ocean batters a shell, Our Lord continues on in search of the pearl inside”.
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