As we work to free ourselves from the confines that capitalism has instilled in our relationship with work and productivity, we can forge a new path forward that embraces Mary as our guide in cultivating the patience, devotion, and steady growth that is required for a fulfilling creative life. 

We meet today’s liturgy in a reading from the book of Isaiah, promising the coming of the savior. We are told that great rewards will come with him, and that in his coming all of his people shall be redeemed. “Rewards” and “redeem” often stir images of wealth, money, and material results. But as we read this passage with fresh eyes we might reflect on a new meaning of these words, given the fact that the savior we contemplate serves the poor of humanity first and foremost. Within the context of our fiat, we are invited to ponder rewards that are not monetary, but are the kind where love and service flourish above all else.

As we progress in our liturgy, we move into a psalm and second reading that reinforce the necessity of reshaping our ideas of reward. We are invited along with the earth to rejoice in the birth of the Lord. With his birth glory and justice will be available to all upright hearts, rather than those that are hardened and closed. We are welcomed to feel gratitude and gladness, and light shining upon us. The message of hope flows into a reminder that Jesus came to us out of his kindness and generosity. Through the Holy Spirit the bath of rebirth was “richly” poured onto us, so that we may become justified not because of what we produce, but simply because of his grace.

The Allelujah reveals to us that earth is the dwelling place of the Lord; and it’s in connection with the earth that peace can be felt. It’s with all of this in mind that we are led to the birth of Jesus, where poor shepherds who work in service to their sheeps, tending, have the glory of God revealed to them by the angels. Finding a woodworker alongside a poor girl who birthed a child in a barn, without any other authorities present but that of her body’s innate wisdom, they all shared in what Mary had already known to be true: that in her, Christ grew. While the shepherds continued to express outwardly what they had just come to learn, Mary kept all that she knew in her heart. Having concretized her Advent, Mary knew the value of keeping new seeds of growth hidden, and that this was a time for nurturing a tender sprout rather than forcing out a finished product, ready to be bought and sold.

In her book The Reed of God, Catholic writer Caryll Houselander states an honest response to this contemplation, which may be primary for the average reader: “So completely have we depended on material things, on money in particular, so terribly are we influenced by fear, that simply to abandon ourselves to God and really to mean it, seems to be madness” (26-27). She goes onto say:

“We have had it instilled into us since we were in the cradle that the one security is money, money alone can save us. If we were a spiritually virile people, we should not worship money but should be grateful for it; it would simply be the symbol of work that satisfied us as men and women and provided the good bread, the warm wool, the fire in the hearth, and the sweetness of sleep in the home” (30).

As we reflect on the birth of Christ as a reflection of our own life’s work, we can begin to walk the new paths forward that help to liberate ourselves from our obsessions with money. In this way, we can reframe our focus to living a fulfilling life where what we create is an expression on the Christ that grows in us. In meditating on the mother-baby dyad that is Mary and Jesus, we can embody the deep trust that is required in order to nurture what we are meant to create, guided by deep listening and devotion.

For this short practice you will need a comfortable place to sit, a journal, and writing utensil.

Find a comfortable seated position. Once your body has settled, rest your hands on your low belly and begin to connect with your breath. Allow the inhale to enter through your nose and move down into your low belly, filling up that space. Allow the exhale to move from your low belly back out through the nose, into the world around you. Watch your breath move in this way for several rounds: Down to fill up your belly on the inhale, and from the belly up and out of the nose on the exhale.

Watch how the cycle of breath begins with the Holy Spirit, that is breath, inhabiting your center. Only from the depths of your center does breath move outward, so you can share that breath, your life force, with the world. Stay with this breath for as long as you need to, feeling the regenerative quality of this giving and receiving breath, to and from your center.

After spending some time in this breath connection practice, give a moment of thanks to your breath and body, from and by which new life is ever yearning to grow and flourish. Slowly release your focus on breath and take your hands off of your belly. Begin to move in whatever ways feel best, in order to bring your attention back into your whole body. When you’re ready, open your eyes. Find your journal with them, and open it to a fresh page. Spend a few minutes reflecting on each of the following questions:

1) How have I, or how am I, experiencing the birth of my own creative life?
2) If I were to describe the way that The Nativity lives inside of me, how would I say it?
3) What is this contemplation of The Nativity asking of me?