Before Christmas I read an article about how since fathers are doing more of the child care and more of the purchasing for their families, toy makers are responding by producing toys for girls that also appeal to men.  Enter construction worker Barbie and pink Legos.

This may be the first generation of girls to get a chance (on average) to play a lot with construction-type toys.  From the article:

“Research shows that playing with blocks, puzzles and construction toys helps children with spatial development, said Dr. Susan C. Levine, chairwoman of the psychology department at the University of Chicago and co-principal investigator at the National Science Foundation’s Spatial Intelligence and Learning Center. Even controlling for other skills such as verbal and numerical skills, she said, children with better spatial thinking are more likely to eventually go into mathematics, engineering, science and technology.

She said that a set aimed at girls could be beneficial, if only because it might increase girls’ likelihood of participating in construction activities.

Dr. O’Brien, the consultant on the new Barbie set, said adults had traditionally been “the limiting factor” in why girls have not played with those toys as often.”

I thought it was fascinating (and obvious, in hindsight) that adults have been the reason girls haven’t received toys that develop spatial skills, and as I recall in my childhood, nary a Lego entered our home until I was about 10 or 11 and my little brothers were old enough to play with them.  At that point, I certainly wasn’t interested in playing with construction toys.

This Christmas, my husband and I bought our 5-year old son a Lego set (although his favorite gift was a set of WWII airplanes from his cousin), and our 2 year-old daughter received pretend-play kitchen toys (since that’s what she gravitates toward in her Nursery class) and some puzzles.  I want both my kids to fully develop their minds in all kinds of ways, but it’s interesting to me that my husband is the one that’s the most vigilant about making sure our daughter doesn’t get too many “all-girl” toys.  And, he’s the one to really shop the sales.  The toy makers are noticing!

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Advent is a season of anticipation.  In the Christian liturgy it is meant to be a time to reflect on how the world waited and prepared for the redemption that comes through the Messiah, and to prepare oneself for meeting Christ.  Fulfillment is always sweeter if it’s something we’ve had to wait for, and the story of the faithful waiting for the arrival of their Savior is compelling.  Just imagine if Jesus had arrived on the scene in the Book of Genesis – where is the drama in that?  Mary’s words of praise spoken in the company of her cousin Elizabeth, who had also received fulfillment after a long period of waiting, evoke a triumphant satisfaction known to those who have eagerly waited.

 

From Luke Chapter 1:

46 And Mary Said, My soul doth magnify the Lord,

47 And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.

48 For he hath regarded the low estate of his handmaiden: for, behold, from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.

49 For he that is mighty hath done to me great things; and holy is his name.

50 And his mercy is on them that fear him from generation to generation.

51 He hath shewed strength with his arm; he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.

52 He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and exalted them of low degree.

53 He hath filled the hungry with good things; and the rich he hath sent empty away.

54 He hath holpen his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy;

55 As he spake to our fathers, to Abraham, and to his seed for ever.

 

Mary is celebrating fulfillment, but to be sure the world is still in need of help, and it often feels to me that Christianity is a religion of deferred satisfaction.  God is supposed to scatter the proud, put down the mighty, exalt the low, and fill the hungry, but the world is still full of injustice and hunger.  So why does Mary rejoice?  Also, I am puzzled by her choice of verb tense.  She did not say “He will,” she said “He hath.”  And her son wasn’t even born yet.

Acknowledging that this grammatical subtlety may have arisen as the text was passed down through time, I want to think about what it means if “hath” was what Mary intended.  It seems she was taking a grand view of things, seeing at once how God spoke to her fathers and will continue to speak to all his children forever.  God speaks, and also acts in the world, and Mary describes this with active verbs like scatter, show, fill, send, and help.  Indeed, few people could have been more aware of God’s direct action in the world than Mary.  Perhaps she is also taking a grand view of time.  To God who calls himself Eternal and Endless⁽¹⁾, “all is as one day, and time is only measured unto men.”⁽²⁾  The Magnificat can be read as a hymn of praise to all that God does, past, present, and future.

Mary is also marveling at her role in God’s work.  The handmaid of the Lord.  When God does great things human beings are often involved, and in Mary the seemingly impossible feat of bearing and raising the Son of God became possible.  The story of Christ’s birth is ultimately about God working in the world to conquer the impossible. To put things right.  How is it done?  How are the low exalted, the hungry filled, the captives delivered, and the brokenhearted healed?  When is the gospel preached to the poor?(3)  Often it is through inspired people working in partnership with Christ.

In our struggling world impossible things have become possible.  Apartheid and legalized slavery ended even though some people thought they never would, women can own property, vote, and hold public office in most of the world, life expectancies are way up, infant mortality is down, people figured out how to fix and bottle nitrogen so that the massive famines Thomas Malthus predicted never occurred, religious freedom is common, and war may be decreasing.⁽⁴⁾ And even though many hearts are broken, they are also quietly healed.  All because inspired people believe change is possible.  The world is far from perfect, but as King said, the though moral arch of the universe is long, it bends towards justice.  We do not have to wait to be the change we seek in this world,⁽⁵⁾ for with God, nothing shall be impossible.⁽⁶⁾

 

 

1. “Behold, I am God…Endless and Eternal is my name.” (Moses 7:5)

2. “All is as one day with God, and time only is measured unto men.” (Alma 40:8)

3.  “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at libertythem that are bruised.” (Luke 4:18)

4. http://www.winningthewaronwar.com/

5. “Be the change that you wish to see in the world.” – Mahatma Gandhi
6. “For with God nothing shall be impossible.” (Luke 1:37)

 

As a post script, I’m including links to some of my favorite musical settings of the Magnificat.  It has been set to music hundreds of times, and it must represent some of the most sung verses of the Bible.  The first setting is Charles Villiers Stanford’s “Magnificat in G” (he wrote one in every major key).  It’s a gorgeous example of the Anglican tradition.  (Be sure to turn up your speakers because it’s a quiet recording).

The second is a movement from Bach’s Magnificat.  Bach wrote a movement for every line (there are 12 since he included, as most musical settings do, the Gloria Patri of the Latin mass at the end: “Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost; As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.”).  It’s hard to choose just one movement, but I like Suscepit Israel puerum suum recordatus misericordiæ suæ (He hath holpen his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy) because it’s a trio for women’s voices.

Finally, Marc-Antonie Charpentier’s exquisite setting gives the whole Latin text in one eight and a half minute composition.

Stanford Magnificat

Bach Magnificat

Charpentier Magnificat

 

 

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1) When I was a child, my siblings and I would act out the nativity story on Christmas Eve, as per one of our family’s traditions. My youngest brother always played the babe, Jesus; my brother Joseph always played the betrothed Joseph; my oldest sister always claimed the prized (and perhaps lone) female role of Mary. Another fair haired sister generally played the angel, leaving me and the remaining sister as shepherds. We wore headdresses in the form of bath towels and robes in the form of sheets, and braided our respective long, dark hair in front of our faces as beards. (If I had a picture, I promise I would share.) I don’t recall resenting this repeated casting too much (though I did dream of being Mary), because if you have to be a shepherd, there was no one better to be a shepherd with. Still, I do recall noticing that there weren’t that many parts for girls.

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Every year my ward ushers in the Christmas season with a Wreath Making Party. There’s music, a program, food, and of course, wreaths. It was last night and I was asked to speak. Here are my remarks.

As I’ve contemplated the theme of this year’s program, Come let us adore him, I think of Mary and Joseph finding refuge in a stable, the shepherds and magi, following the star, but mostly I think of the sweet Christ child and the joy His birth brought to the world. Let me share with you two stories, one about finding room in the inn, the other about following the star, both about hope and babies.

Story I: Surprise. You’re pregnant.

In 2001 I was pregnant with my third child, and fell into a deep depression. Much of it was hormonal, but it also had to do with our current situation. We were living in a small two bedroom and I’d lay awake each night mentally rearranging furniture and wonder where on earth this unexpected child’s stuff was supposed to go.  I already shared a dresser with the toddler. My husband also traveled a lot and I was having a hard time managing two littles on my own. How could I add a newborn?

The bigger I got, the deeper I sank. I wanted to feel joy but couldn’t.  Instead I was mired in a mixture of misery and guilt.  What was wrong with me that I was less than elated?  How could a Mormon woman NOT see pregnancy as a blessing?    Even when things were going well, the depression could sneak up on me like the shark in Jaws.  One minute I would be figuratively enjoying a nice swim and the next minute I was drowning in pain and darkness.  I prayed as I tucked the other two in bed at night that they would not be damaged by my foul moods. I prayed as I drove to work that I’d be able to stop crying long enough to teach the 3-hour block.  I prayed when the psychologist that my OB made me see told me that my depression would go away if I just ate more salmon. I hate salmon.

I have always had a hard time getting answers to prayers.  This is not to say that I never get answers–I do. Sometimes. It’s just that when God does decide to respond to my pleas me, he uses creative means of communication.

When I was 6 months pregnant, some girlfriends decided we should go to the outlets up in Maine.  They knew I was depressed and thought a little retail therapy might help. And if that failed, there was a Dairy Queen nearby.  Salmon was not going to relieve my hormonal upheaval, but a Peanut-Buster Parfait might.

In one of those Swedish catalog stores where kids’ pajamas cost what my wedding dress did, I picked up a little knit cap, tried it on my fist and smiled.  It was mostly green, a cheery Granny Smith with a few stripes, pink, yellow, blue. It was even on sale.  But the last thing I needed was more clothes.  By this point I knew I was having another girl, 22 months after my last.  Same age, same season, same clothes.  Everything else about the pregnancy felt so overwhelming, it was a great relief to know that I didn’t have to buy a single article of clothing.  So I tossed the cap back.

But when I left the store I couldn’t walk away. I told my friends I’d catch up and I stood there, trying to figure out what I was feeling.  There was no voice, but I knew God wanted me to buy that green hat.  Yes, the Lord speaks to people in the language and means they best understand. So what does this say about me that God talks to me through shopping?  Ignoring the slight, I obeyed the prompting, feeling a little foolish (and superficial), but glad to have ANY kind of divine communication in the midst of my depression which, more than anything else, left me feeling spiritually abandoned.

That night as I took the knit cap out of the bag, I imagined the tiny, warm head that it would adorn. I could imagine the soft cheeks against my breast. And perhaps for the first time, I didn’t think about the morning sickness or sciatica, the lack of space, my limited resources.  I only thought about this baby as an individual.  In that moment I felt peace. There would be room enough in our house, in my heart, for this child.  I held the cap and cried.

The cap sat on my dresser for the next 3 months as a reminder of the comfort and knowledge I had received. It became a talisman, a symbol that my baby and I had not been forgotten.

Camille’s arrival signaled the departure of my depression.  The moment she left my body I felt as if the clouds parted and the sun began to shine again.  She wore the cap many times.  I joked to my husband that it was the “cap of many colors,” representing my love for her.  And now it is hard to imagine not having her in my life, hard to imagine that carrying her was such a burden on my body and spirit.

She arrived two weeks before Christmas, and we were crowded. Our tiny apartment became a mini Hong Kong, as we put shelves on top of dressers, got bunk beds and just kept stacking stuff up up up. But there was room for this precious child, and as we celebrated the savior’s birth, I had never better understood the joy of the nativity, that a tiny child could so enlarge my heart and fill my soul with love.  There was room aplenty in the Inn.

Story II: We have some bad news for you…

In 2005 , I was once again expecting. This time I was elated but nervous as I’d lost 3 babies the previous year. My OB sent me to the high-risk practice at the Brigham and I underwent so many tests that I often felt like I’d been abducted by aliens.  At 9 weeks a somber nurse told me there was a problem and ushered me into the genetic counselor’s office.  I heard the words cystic hygroma, severe defects, chromosomal abnormality, and termination. I stopped listening and just concentrating on breathing

Once again I found myself pregnant and depressed. Every time I went to the doctor it got worse. The cyst was growing, and my doctor would list for me all the things that might be wrong with my baby—if I even made it full term.  (The irony that this other depression surrounds being desperate to have a baby is not lost on me) Every time I went into her office, I felt bereft. She was like the dementors from Harry Potter, sucking all the light and joy out of me. I felt as if I’d never be happy again.

I turned to the Lord and prayed my heart out. I prayed for strength, for comfort, for a manageable disability. At church I remember looking at certain women, and thinking “So & so has REAL faith. She is the kind of woman who gets miracles, not me.” I wasn’t jealous of bitter—nobody’s mad—just observing that it seemed certain people get the yes answer, and others, like me, got the “not this time sweetheart.”  Sometime around month 6 I had a conversation with a friend who’d also had a “we have some bad news for you” pregnancy.  Her advice to me was simple. Ask God for what I wanted. Even if it was a miracle. Just ask. The Lord loves us and wants us to come to Him with our righteous desires.  She said that there would be blessings in the asking, regardless of the outcome.

So I did. And it was terrifying to ask for a miracle, to lay my broken heart at His feet.  I was so afraid that I couldn’t take the pain if my desires weren’t granted. But God heard my prayers and gave me a gift. Hope. I remember it felt tangible, this gift of Hope that I could choose to take or not take. It wasn’t a warranty against pain and suffering, or a guarantee of a glittery and shiny outcome. But it shone brightly, like a star you might follow through the desert or a wilderness. And I followed.  The first thing I did was “fire” my OB. If I was going to make it I needed to find someone who could also also allow for the possibility of a good outcome. Next, a dear friend organized a fast for me, contacting many of our friends. The idea of being on the receiving end of sacrifice made me really uncomfortable. But I could not deny that their faith bolstered mine and gave me a peace that felt like being wrapped in one of those warm, minky blankets they sell at Costco. By month 8 I had the courage to  go ahead and prepare the nursery. I painted it a happy lavender and my sister sent me the bedding she’d handmade for her daughter. I followed the star of hope and had faith that whatever awaited me in the manger would be a blessing.

Fast-forward to 3 days before Thanksgiving. As it came time to deliver the baby, the room was filled with doctors and nurses waiting to see what they would need to do for this child.  None of it stressed me at the point. I knew whatever happened, God had heard me, comforted me, and I would not be left alone. Our child arrived chubby and healthy and it made us smile to have medical professionals dub our daughter “the miracle baby.”  I felt like the Holy Family as hospital personnel and friends streamed in and out of our room to behold our miracle baby.  “Come let us adore Him,” I thought. Dave named her Beatrice, bringer of joy and blessings.  Thanksgiving took on new meaning for our family as we all drank in the beauty of our answered prayers.

Now at Christmas, I identify with many of the players. I see myself in the harried and busy innkeepers who can’t find room in the inn–and I am reluctant to judge them as I suspect they too were super stressed and eluded by peace .  I see myself as a distant traveler following a star, weary but hopeful that I can survive the journey, praying that the gifts I bring will be sufficient.  But mostly I strive to be like the tired but faithful mother who looks to the Holy Child and finds faith and joy. Oh Come Let us Adorn Him!

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This past fall, our stake president introduced me to a new way to look at the miracles of Jesus feeding the multitude, which I wanted to share here. The feeding of the multitude is the only miracle that is mentioned in all four gospels, and in Matthew and Mark, there are multiple versions of the miracle. It has obviously touched the hearts of the early Christians for it to be recorded so often, and is dear to us today.

To feed thousands of people to the point of being full with only a few loaves and fish is huge and with baskets of leftovers is huge. To try to figure out how you’d have to physically do that (would you re-arrange the molecules? beam extra loaves in from a hidden teleportation device?) is mind boggling. We don’t know. My stake president offered another idea.

Who was in the multitude? Probably a range of people of different socioeconomic status, families, tribes of Israel. Perhaps there were people in the crowd who had brought some extra food in their own bags. Perhaps, when the basket came around, they saw that the crowd was huge and they had a little extra, and maybe moved by the compassion and healing miracles they saw Christ demonstrate or the teachings of love and charity they heard, or the example of Christ’s examples in giving all their own bread and fish, they took from their own bags and placed their extra into the baskets.

And thousands of people were fed. And there was plenty left over.

I don’t believe that this version makes the miracle of feeding the multitudes less miraculous. It is a miracle to have power over the physical world, but I think it may be even more of a miracle to have the power to change the hearts of human beings.

Do we have extra in our bags that we can put into the baskets and share with our community? Does Christ inspire us to action?

“Then those men, when they had seen the miracle that Jesus did, said, This is of a truth that prophet that should come into the world.” John 6:14

This Christmas, as we celebrate the man who changed the hearts of millions of people, let’s remember to let him change ours as well.

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Double gifting? At WAVE we encourage it! Give a gift to all the women in your lives and at the same time give a gift to WAVE. Buying a Words of Wisdom quote book this season for $8 on our website will make a great gift for conservatives and liberals alike (how many gifts can you say that about?) as well as help us raise funds to incorporate as an official NPO.

LDS WAVE (Women Advocating for Voice and Equality) has created a book full of quotes from female leaders and quotes directed specifically towards women from female and male leaders. It’s organized by topic and covers a variety of subjects. It’s a great tool for lesson plans, talks, personal study, etc. I own a copy as a liberal feminist Mormon, and ordered on for my conservative, traditional mother-in-law for Christmas.

WAVE is the in the process of become a official non-profit organization in order to expand our actions to give LDS women a voice in the LDS church. Right now we are selling Words of Wisdom for $8 on the WAVE website. This includes shipping, and some of the proceeds will go to the fees involved in becoming an NPO. To purchase a copy of Words of Wisdom, click on this link!

http://www.ldswave.org/?page_id=1079

Have a Merry Feminist Christmas from WAVE and the Exponent!

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