As a Protestant, I have a conflicted relationship with Mary, the mother of Jesus.  I come from a male dominated religious background where teaching elders are men and women are not granted equal leadership opportunities. Moreover, I was cautioned against the deification of the Virgin Mary and anything that smacked of idolatry by placing Mary in a place of reverence.  Mary was only spoken of twice—once at Jesus’ birth and once again at the foot of the cross.  Every now and then I would hear a mention of her in terms of the exile to Egypt, but she was pretty much a footnote in my religious upbringing.  Mary, like most women, were simply not accorded much focus. And yet, every Christmas my thoughts turn most to Mary, the woman who had the greatest impact on the world by bringing the Son of God into it.

Perhaps, as a gay man I am drawn to the story of the outsider.  When I was growing up, being gay was not nearly as commonplace or accepted as it is today.  Like Mary, I felt I had a secret– only mine did not come with heavenly visions. However, I am certain that Mary was as aware of the possible ostracism that would face her “coming out” story as I was of the ostracism I could face when I told the world I was gay.  But I think that’s only part of my connection with Mary.  I also think part of my fascination has to deal with examining what I can learn through this historical footnote.

For me, Mary sets forth three important lessons both in spite of her role as Jesus’ mother and because of her role as Jesus’ mother.  The first thing that strikes me is the humility that Mary demonstrates time and time again and her willingness to not make the story all about her. While I am sure that the revelation was not a simple thing to accept, Mary somehow overcomes the honest question of “what about me?” and accepts that her path is about to take on a very different direction and one that will cast her in a supporting role for all of time. She understands that her job is to literally bring forth the Savior of the world and to accept that someone else’s needs will come before hers.  In some ways, Mary is demonstrating the natural maternal instinct but in other ways the level of her self-sacrifice will far exceed any other.

That humility continues when she is first turned away by Joseph and then is re-united with him.  I cannot imagine that Mary was not aware of Joseph’s initial reaction to end the engagement.  Yet instead of taking this turn personally, Mary seems to put her own feelings aside, understanding that Joseph is on the same kind of spiritual journey that she herself has been placed on.  And when the time comes to travel, Mary appears to think little of herself. She makes the most of the situation despite being physical put out.

The second lesson that I take from Mary is one of true hospitality.  As my husband will attest, I don’t do well when tired or hungry, and when both occur at the same time then only heaven knows what may occur. Despite having just given birth and squatting in a stable, Mary welcomes her visitors, both high and low, with grace and warmth.  She doesn’t seem to turn anyone away regardless of how dirty she, they or the baby may be.  I am the kind of person who cleans up before the cleaning lady comes because of a need to always present my best face.  Mary seems to understand that she is, from the first moment, teaching a lesson of love and acceptance that will become the foundation of Jesus’ message.  She turns no one away just as her son will turn no one away later in his life.  If I had just a little more of Mary’s hospitality…

Lastly, I am struck by the absolute humanity of Mary.  She is a poor girl who is plucked from obscurity and given one of history’s largest roles.  But she doesn’t take on the mantle of “Mother of God”—she simple is a mother who shows a mother’s concern for her child.  She shelters him from the cold, she proudly shares him with friends, she will even sacrifice her own safety to get him into exile.  The humility shown from the first becomes the grace of human love.  Mary does not cast herself on high nor does she separate herself from her god-child.  She loves him as a mother and it’s that maternal connection that becomes a key foundation of Jesus’ mission on earth.  Mary’s ability to connect with Christ on a mother-son level shows us the ability for us to connect on a peer-to-peer level.  That is one of the true miracles of the incarnation—nothing separates us from the God who came to love us.  And Mary’s human love, like her lessons of humility and hospitality, would inform who Jesus the boy, then man, the Savior was to become.

Given where we are in today’s world, perhaps we owe Mary a deeper view.  I am not suggesting that we deify her and all join the cult of the Virgin Mary.  But I am suggesting that we need to recognize that we should give her credit for the lessons she taught Christ and the lessons that she in turn gave us.