God As Mother
Advent is the time when we wait for Baby Jesus to be born, to celebrate God becoming flesh and dwelling among us. Jesus as God Incarnate, embodied. Jesus, as Fr. Tom Ryan says and we write on our “Mission” page, comes to us in and through a body.
We use the present tense “comes” here very intentionally. Although Jesus physically lived on this planet 2,000 years ago, God still comes to us in and through our bodies. This present tense experience of God is the heart of what we mean by “incarnational theology” or “embodied spirituality.”
For me, “embodied spirituality” means paying attention. Paying attention to both the pain and euphoria of life. Practicing yoga helps me pay attention to the revelation of God through the physical world, my experience of this life.
Advent’s attention on Mary and Baby Jesus invites me to reflect on mothering. I’ve been pregnant alongside Mary twice now, and each time, I meditated on waiting for the baby, like she waited for Jesus. Wondering what it would have been like to be theotokos, God-bearer, even as I waited for my little Image-of-God-bearers. And now, I find myself thinking about God as Mother.
The wonder I feel when I watch my child.
The oxytocin high after giving birth.
The twin pillars of ache and warmth in my chest when I hold my daughter when she cries.
In all these bodily experiences, I learn about the heart and character of God. I am made in the image of God, after all, and lately I’ve been thinking of God as a mother, warm and loving, right here rather than as a cold, judging father in the sky.
Rather, a God who became flesh is also a God who gets down on hands and knees to remove a splinter from a toe.
A God who became flesh puts in another load of laundry at bedtime so a favorite shirt can be worn again the next day.
A God who stops the sibling argument before someone can say something they’ll regret.
A God who became flesh says, “no,” to having a friend over sometimes. We need a day to rest, to be bored, to just be.
A God who says “yes” to a kitten, delighting in the subsequent frolic.
A God who sleeps on the floor next to an ill or lonely child’s bed.
A God who…
Even as I write about the things I do for my own children, I see where God has done similar things in my life. Said “no” to elements of life that I have wanted. Said “yes” to other elements.
And I see other areas in the world where I wish God was more like a mother: where I wish God would step in to prevent her children from fighting, from saying or doing things that will hurt them.
In these desires, I find myself back in Advent—waiting for that sort of world to come into being like we wait for the Messiah: come, Lord Jesus.
Featured image by Alex Pasarelu @bellefoto via Unsplash
