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We are living in the Advent season, a four-week period that many Western Christian adherents use to prepare for Christmas. Current events include the story of John the Baptist, a humble Jewish prophet who was baptizing and announcing the message of preparation for the coming of Christ.
Often in the last week of Advent we celebrate the story of Mary and Joseph and the Angel Gabriel. But there is a part of my favorite Advent story that I always want to see more clearly this time of year: the coming together of Mary and Elizabeth.
These are the women who were chosen at a critical time in their lives to bring two stubborn children, Jesus and John, into the world. As the story unfolds, Gabriel informs Mary of another miracle taking place: her cousin Elizabeth, after all their life of unanswered prayer and now past her childbearing years, she too is pregnant. Mary visits Elizabeth for a while. Their time together is known as Visiting. But I think the story of their friendship can give many of us ideas, courage and encouragement in ways that are more accessible than any other aspect of the Advent story.
In the early 16th century, the Italian scholar Raphael was commissioned to paint a portrait of Mary and Elizabeth. In the work – which is thought to have been drawn by Raphael and photographed by one of his assistants – the two women have large figures in front of the scene. Elizabeth comes to greet and greet little Mary, who arrives with her head bowed, looking weak and meditative, with one hand holding her belly.
It is a touching image that shows a lot through their facial expressions and body language. Elizabeth embraces Mary with one hand, and the other holds her hand tightly. She stared at the smooth face of Mary’s youth with a strong and compassionate look. He knows how it feels to carry something that should sound like a gift but it may also feel like a burden. His face shows sympathy for the girl. They will pass this time together, even though they have not yet found his word.
I was captivated by this photo because it portrays two courageous, humble, and faithful women as dedicated witnesses of each other’s journeys. Entering boldly into unexpected roles, but in order to all understand its weight, they allow themselves to be vessels that, as the story goes, will transform the world.
We see that future instead. In the front it looks empty, but in the back there is a river. Here the artist takes two small pictures, the two girls: John the Baptist baptizing Jesus. We know what happened to those men, and that Mary lived in it; we know that in front of him is a terrible agony. But, just as with a healthy river, women are the means of life that will care for the earth.
This seems to be the case with women, whether they are giving birth or not: caring for their environment and their environment in ways that often turn dry soil into a life-giving environment. It is a work that can be done in a natural way and is often unacceptable. But in this picture women are at the forefront and their work is visible and unquestionable. And with God and the angels behind the sky, I can’t help but think that the work that seems to be the daily routine of most women is not just creative but sacred in and of itself.
What excites me is the instinct for mothers to be able to deal with this together, to marvel at the wonders of their lives and to deal with the challenges that the miracles come with. It makes me think a little deeper about the complex nature of the best gifts we can be asked to receive.
Philippe de Champaigne’s 17th-century translation of ‘Visitation’, in which Mary and Elizabeth appear as disobedient conspirators © Alamy Stock Photo
In 18th-century French painting by Philippe de Champaigne “The Visitation”, the two women appear to be rivals, empowered and conspiring, recognizing their importance in God’s wealth – if not in their worldly system. ancient ancestors. They huddle together, the middle stage of the curtain, whispering among themselves. Mary holds Elizabeth’s hand with her other finger, as if to say good-bye. The men around them pass unnoticed, unmolested and unaffected by their presence. You can’t see the nimbus ring above every woman’s head.
This is what makes this image so powerful. It is confusing, as if Mary and Elizabeth are connected to a great source of power. The world is on the brink of a power revolution that will shake everything in human society, and these two ordinary women have no power to change the world around them. I am touched by their relationship and their awareness of the power of what is going on in their lives.
Today, in the age of society, we are taught to share almost everything that happens to us, from what we eat to breakfast to the end of a relationship to the tragic death of a loved one. Sometimes it feels like no matter what is sacred or should be around for a while with those who are walking confidently with us. Sometimes I wonder if our life-changing experiences are in jeopardy as we soon release the world; if there are things that these experiences should not show us or teach us inside the secret of just having new facts. I feel that there was a great deal of wisdom between the two women in choosing to steal on their own, with their own life-changing experiences.
‘The Visitation’ by US artist Janet McKenzie: ‘These women say yes to their commitment, relying on the disruption of their lives will be a boon to whatever comes their way’
In a modern inspiring work by Vermont artist Janet McKenzie, the two women stand together, working together but still in their respective countries. McKenzie’s work combines her spiritual attraction and dedication to showcasing support for women and a diverse community.
In this picture, Mary and Elizabeth are very tall and thin, and they are wrapped in cloths. The blue veil of Mary’s signature hangs over the baby in her twisted arm. There is a quiet respect for all the women as they stand with their eyes closed, almost meditating on their realities. Elizabeth put her hand on Mary’s womb, and Mary’s hand was holding her cheek. At the back there are two rows on the wall that form the cross. There are also crosses painted on Mary’s shawl, symbolizing the incomparable pain and sacrificial love that is to come. In the meantime, in a sense, these women are saying yes to their sacrifices, making unwise decisions but hoping that disruptive lives will be a success whatever comes their way.
I am fascinated by this art because it highlights the powerful practice of standing up as a witness to the trials and triumphs of another person’s life, even in the midst of your life. There seems to be an incentive for both of them.
I think my friendship with Mary and Elizabeth is very strong for me this year because I believe we are all still preparing for new things. The last two years have brought with them an amazing mix of pains and sorrows, sometimes in the same package. There is a perception that if we are still here, we are still, with every kind of miracle, to endure the world late. And for some of us, for a variety of reasons, there are responsibilities and responsibilities that we have been told to do, even when we feel we are not ready or ready to take on the task. But life has called us to appear.
I believe there is a way we can know how to be Elizabeth to Mary in our lives, on the contrary. In order for us to be able to move forward with someone in an unfamiliar environment of a mixed life mixed with blessings and challenges, to stand by someone else’s journey, and to rely on the experience we too are encouraged and encouraged in our journey.
Send an email to Enuma enuma.okoro@ft.com
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