There's Something About Mary

I was asked to talk about my time in Guatemala at my home church's service last Sunday. This is what I came up with.

Scripture Passages
Old Testament:
Hosea 12:6
Micah 6:8

New Testament:
Luke 1:46-55

There’s Something About Mary

A few weeks after moving in with my very Catholic host mother, we were listening to local Catholic radio, like always, while cutting up veggies at the table. She looked at me and asked,
“So you aren’t Catholic? What are you again?”
“I’m Presbyterian,” I told her.
She gave me a blank stare. Christians are divided into two groups in Guatemala: Catholic and Evangelical. For better or for worse, Protestantism and denominations such as Presbyterian mean nothing to most Catholics and many Evangelicals for that matter.
“Are you Christian?”
“Yeah. I’m Protestant.”
She gave me a blank stare. “So you’re evangelical,” she assumed.
“Well, it isn’t considered evangelical in the U.S…”
She cut me off.
“You don’t believe in Mary then.”
“We do,” I disputed.
“But not like we do. You know some people don’t even believe that she was Jesus’ mother and that you shouldn’t pray to her.”
Seeing that this conversation could get heated fast I responded “You’re kidding!” I often joined in the Guatemalan women kitchen gossip this way. You know how they say, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” Well, when in a Guatemalan kitchen, always enthusiastically agree with whatever the owner of the kitchen says.

But she got me thinking. First of all, why are Latin American women particularly obsessed with Mary? They are always seeing her face in unexpected places and spend money they don’t have to go on pilgrimages to sites where she has supposedly appeared. I can imagine a remake of the Ben Stiller and Cameron Diaz comedy “There’s Something About Mary.” But this time Mary wouldn’t be a tall blonde, but an Israeli peasant and her suitors wouldn’t be 30 year old bachelors, but Mayan and Latina women from Central and South America. Why is it, anyway, that we don’t talk about Mary more in the Protestant church? I mean, sure, we like her fine, but in a sort of respectful of other people’s beliefs sort of way. I grew up thinking that Mary was some lady that took away from the awesomeness of Jesus, that by loving her, you somehow loved Jesus less. I was never particularly impressed with her. She was just some lucky, poor young woman who saw an angel and 9 months later, had a baby. End of her story. And apparently, many of our missionaries brought those same ideas to Guatemala, and who knows where else. But after 20 something years of ignoring Mary, I’ve begun to really see her for the first time. She lives in Guatemala and she told me her story.

Justina
Justina is a leader. During the 36 year conflict in Guatemala, where indigenous people were brutally tortured and murdered by the government, Justina, as a young girl, came home one day to find her parents had “disappeared”. Being the oldest of her 7 brothers and sisters, Justina packed up her family and moved to the nearest city to find work. They all had to separate to find jobs and even her youngest sister, just 5 years old at the time, had to live alone to work as a tortilla-maker, sleeping on the floor at night. They lived that way for several years, only seeing each other every few months. Now, Justina is the President of a weaving cooperative that she helped to form. They are a group of Mayan women who were displaced by the Armed Conflict. They weave and sell their work to support their families. They have also linked up with a Christian non-profit organization that supports oppressed women in Guatemala. Through this organization, many have gone back to school and attended women empowerment workshops. Justina, like so many other Guatemalan women, didn’t know that God loves women too, not just men, until she was told. Just recently, a human rights organization found and uncovered the bodies of Justina’s parents. Tears in her eyes, she insisted on showing me the pictures. And as she pointed out the details of her mother’s jewelry, dress, and noose around her neck, that were all still intact, though decayed, you could get a sense that a deep wound in her was finally healing by telling her story.

Marta
Marta was the first person in Comalapa to greet me personally on the street. I had been there for about a month and didn’t know very many people. I was feeling alone and isolated. Little kids laughed at me and called me “gringa”, others ignored me, but most people were cordial. But no one greeted me like they knew me. Then one day, I was in the bakery buying some sweet breads for my family. It’s a tradition to eat sweet bread and coffee every evening before dinner. I heard my name “Celeste” being yelled from across the room and there was Marta. And I felt filled with joy that someone knew my name. Marta’s warmth and care continued throughout the year. Just the other day, at about 10:30 pm, the phone rang, and when I answered I heard the same “Celeste” on the other end. It was Marta.
Marta’s husband lives in Atlanta. He left when Marta was pregnant with their 4th child, 5 years ago. When I asked what he does there, she told me that he does a little of everything. Every morning, he wakes up early and goes to stand in the mall parking lot with all of the other illegal immigrants and waits for someone to come and hire him for the day. The funny thing is, I’ve seen those men in that parking lot in Atlanta. I remember when I saw them thinking that I couldn’t believe that standing in the hot sun, waiting to be hired everyday was worth not seeing their families. Well, one of those men was Marta’s husband, and he’s never met his youngest son. She told me, with mixed emotion, that he’s coming home this year. She will be so happy to see him, but that means that he won’t be sending any money home anymore.

Virginia
Virginia never finished school. She studied through the 6th grade then stopped to help take care of her brothers and sisters at home, a common responsibility taken on by oldest daughters. She is a big joker and an excellent weaver. She once told me that she weaves because it keeps her alive. Then she added that she also weaves because she is vain and knows that her weavings are the best. Despite her difficulty reading and writing Spanish, she was my most dedicated English student. She was always the first one to show up, and almost never missed a class. Her and I formed a friendship because I was always at her house, at her request, to help her with her pronunciation or to just reteach the lesson because it was hard for her to copy the notes on the board. I went over to her house once and she had written maybe 5 or so recipes in English. I’m positive that she was my only student making up homework for herself.
Virginia will never have any practical use for that English she learned this year. But she lives in an oppressive country where women are not seen as equals. As she once shared with me, crying and laughing at the same time, that once her husband took away her weaving for 6 months. So, she filled her time going around town visiting friends and family. Well, he didn’t like that either. So, she just went and brought her weaving supplies to her mother’s house to do it and that was that. Virginia isn’t going to use that English. But I don’t think that was the point for her.

I knew Mary when I talked to these three ladies and many of the women in Guatemala. Just like Mary, they are, poor, servant women. Just like Mary, they were born into poverty in an oppressive, sexist, racist, and classist society. And just like Mary, God has seen them and called them blessed. We know their type, but do we actually know them? Marta, Virginia, Justina, Mary.

I haven’t studied theology or anything, but I find “Mary’s Song” that was our scripture passage today interesting. She sings this after she finds out she is going to give birth to the Son of God. It is a song of joy, but also, I think, a song of justice. Listen to this author’s spin on Mary’s Song from the book “Unexpected News: Reading the Bible with Third World Eyes.”

The author and his wife are in Peru at a Mass that is dealing with issues of injustice against them. The mass has ended and thousands of peasants are filing out of the church, back out to a hostile environment in conflict, sort of like the Armed Conflict that went on in Guatemala. As everyone leaves, they sing “Mary’s Song.”

“The words they are singing are familiar; we share, after all, the same Scriptures. But on another level the words are brand-new…”

Those who have every reason to wonder whether God can any longer be called a God of justice and power are singing, ‘God has shown strength with His arm.’
Those who have so often been victimized by arrogant rulers who show no regard for the poor are singing, ‘God has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.’
Those who have been threatened and imprisoned by leaders whose grip on power seems secure are singing, ‘God has put down the mighty from their thrones.’
Those who have seen their families ground down and destroyed, with no apparent hope of ever rising again, are singing, ‘God has exalted those of low degree.’
Those who worry about food for themselves and their children are singing, ‘God has filled the hungry with good things.’
Those from whom the rich take more and more, whether legally or illegally, are singing, ‘And the rich God has sent empty away.’”

“…Surely the police, hearing such revolutionary slogans as ‘Put down the mighty from their thrones!’ and ‘Exalt those of low degree!’ should have their guns at the ready as the crowd leaves the assembly hall.…[But] all the worshipers are doing is singing a prayer song by a dutiful, demure little Jewish girl…”