Advent Art: Treasure and Ponder
Invisible Labor, Sacred Rest
Welcome to "Advent Art," a special series exploring the intersection of faith and creativity. Each week in December, we'll delve into a work of art, exploring the biblical texts and spiritual themes that inspire these artistic expressions as they illuminate the path to Christmas.
Today’s post is a (slightly edited) transcript from a devotional I delivered on December 4th, 2024, for Advent by Candlelight, a special service led by the women of Kirk in the Hills Presbyterian Church, PCUSA. To enhance our reflection on Mary, I've included some of my favorite artistic portrayals of her throughout the centuries.1
16 So they (the shepherds) hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. 17 When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, 18 and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. 19 But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. 20 The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told." Luke 2: 16-20 (NIV)
‘Tis the season.
‘Tis the season of being the only one who knows where the presents are hidden.
Of being the one keeping track of who needs to be where, when, and knowing what we are going to eat for dinner on Thursday.
Of having four different Christmas-themed events in one weekend.
‘Tis the season of realizing the “simple” Christmas present you bought your child requires a degree in engineering to assemble.
‘Tis the season of making all the traditions happen, even when you don’t feel like it.
A few months ago, my beloved counselor pointed me to a Times article and TED talk exploring Invisible Labor. I came into a therapy session like I know so many of you would: tired and overwhelmed, disappointed in myself, and wondering why.
Why hadn’t I done more?
A recent study showed that 60% of invisible labor (the tasks that often go unlooked, unappreciated, and underregulated) is done by women, both at home and at work.
My therapist asked me if maybe the first step to healing from my current state of exhaustion and burnout is to make the invisible labor more visible to myself and others. Making it more visible to myself would allow me to stop discounting the energy it takes to do so much, to name that I didn’t “do more” because of the heavy mental and physical load of taking care of all the things.
And if you’re not a parent, or if your children are grown, the studies show that there is invisible labor in every life season. We never outrun it. Maybe in this stage of your life, you’re taking on leadership positions at work, or your “volunteer” role has become a separate full-time job. (I am looking at you, elders, deacons, and committee chairs!)
You’re the dependable one who steps up in times of crisis (which, let’s be real, seems like always lately.) I imagine that few people know all the things you know, all the details you carry.
Do you wonder what would happen to your home/workplace/relationship/children if you stopped being so vigilant?
In the quiet of your heart, do you worry you’re not a good enough mother?
Do you feel insecure about the state of your house?
Do you feel inadequate as you care for your aging parents or siblings?
How much time do you spend fretting over your waistline or forehead, worried about being thin or young or wrinkle-free enough?
‘Tis the season of not-enoughness.
If we are not careful, a quiet resentment, bitterness—maybe even despair—can creep in, especially this time of year.
Naming everything we hold allows others to step up and help, but it also drives home this truth: we are not alone.
Our labor is never invisible to God.
What would it be like to sit in the presence of a loving friend who sees and knows all you carry?
In tonight’s scripture, Mary shows us how.
‘Tis the season of hustle and bustle in Bethlehem. The shepherds hurried off, eager to tell everyone what they had heard and seen. They were “amazed,” the scripture says. But Mary— “but” represents a contrast or exception— they were amazed, but Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.
The Greek word used here for ponder also means to throw together, to bring together. It connects to the word for cast, like casting a vase or a pot. Its meaning is more profound than “think”—it means to reflect or consider, but also to bring together in an active sense.
So, let’s make Mary’s labor more visible, shall we?
She’s visited by an angel who tells her she’s pregnant with God’s child. She travels approximately 90 miles to visit her cousin Elizabeth, who, in her old age, is also miracle-pregnant. She travels back home to Nazareth, and just when the baby drops, it’s time to leave again. Another 100 miles on foot (and perhaps donkey) from Nazareth to Bethelem for the census, and there’s no room in the inn. When she should have been “nesting,” she must give birth in a real-life animal's nest.
Would you feel like treasuring and pondering at that moment?
If Mary could handle childbirth in a stable, maybe I could manage the Kroger parking lot in December.
Jokes aside, I have been through far less stressful Christmas seasons, and instead of treasuring and pondering, I have been known to worry and fret, to blow up and compartmentalize, to push away the moment right in front of me in favor of my treasured past times: planning for the future or wallowing in the past.
But Mary. Incredibly, she does it again a few verses later when the child Jesus goes missing. He is found in the temple with the elders and instead of activating full-on panic mode, instead of chastizing herself for not being a better mother—for not doing more—Mary treasures these things and ponders them in her heart.
This Advent, I want to invite you into this posture.
But how?
How did Mary find such contemplative reflection and peace in these acutely stressful moments?
I believe she did so by staring down into the eyes of the Prince of Peace himself.
As he squirmed and grunted against her chest like newborns do, she let the Light of the World illuminate the darkest corners of her heart that she thought only she saw.
As her tears fell, the Man of Sorrows understood her suffering and fears.
If she wondered if she was a good mother when she wrapped her baby in swaddling cloths meant for animals, for lying him in a feeding trough, the Lamb of God reassured her: he was right where he was supposed to be.
The way to feel like enough is not to take on more visible or invisible labor. It is by treasuring and pondering Jesus, born again this Christmas, believing we are made enough by him and him alone, not by our own strength or effort or performance. Mary knew this. She invites us to practice it, too.
If this is your 80th Christmas as a follower of Jesus, or if this may be your first, I hope you’ll join me as we treasure and ponder the reality of God with us.
‘Tis the season of practicing putting that together, casting like a potter, kneading the truth into our hearts until we are no longer anxious daughters laboring, made slaves to things that do not hold eternal significance.
May Christ’s coming change the shape of your doing; let it remind you that you are not enough until you rest in the arms of a God who loves you enough to break through on Christmas.
Here is a list of Jesus' names, followed by the scripture referencing each.2
Read through the names and pick one that speaks to you. Write it on a sticky note and put it on your bathroom mirror, the kitchen window sill, or in your car.
Let the fact that Jesus is the Alpha and Omega give you peace that the future is in God’s hands. Let the Bread of Life sustain you when you feel low or need true sustenance. Tell the Wonderful Counselor all that you carry, allow him to lighten your load.
In the comments, tell me which name spoke to you.
As you treasure and ponder who Jesus is this Advent, may you be wrapped in God's loving presence and find sacred rest.
‘Tis the season.
Amen.
One of the artists whose work I am sharing in today’s post, Michelle Arnold Paine (Reflection: On the Edge, a modern annunciation painting), has a show on display now in Grand Rapids, MI, called Sanctuary: An Advent Exhibition and if you’re in the area, you should check it out. Learn more: https://michellepaine.com/
Grateful for this reference with live links to scripture texts made by the Holy Comforter-Saint Cyprian Roman Catholic Church in Washington, DC.
Last night, I gave participant’s little sheets of paper so they didn’t get to pick theirs, it picked *them*! The one I drew for myself was “Bread of Life.” I’m taking that to mean: the more carbs the better! 😂
I looked over the list and “Hidden Manna” jumped out at me. I think I like the idea of unexpected nourishment. Manna must have less carbs too, right?