On the Answer of a Girl

Advent 4B; 2 Sam. 7:1-11, 16; Luke 1:26-38 St. Paul’s 12/24/2017

Jim Melnyk: “On the Answer of a Girl”

Theologian and author Frederick Buechner shares his imagining about the encounter between the Archangel Gabriel and a young girl named Mary, whose life may soon be changed in ways no one could ever imagine.  Buechner writes: “She struck the angel Gabriel as hardly old enough to have a child at all, let alone this child, but he'd been entrusted with a message to give her, and he gave it.  He told her what the child was to be named, and who he was to be, and something about the mystery that was to come upon her. ‘You mustn't be afraid, Mary,’ he said.

As he said it, [Gabriel] only hoped she wouldn't notice that beneath the great, golden wings he himself was trembling with fear to think that the whole future of creation hung now on the answer of a [young] girl” (from Buechner’s work, Peculiar Treasures).

Today’s gospel lesson is one serious flashback in the life of Mary, and in the faith of the church.  It’s a story that we normally tell nine months earlier on the Feast of the Annunciation which is observed on March 25.  Here we sit, just hours before celebrating Mary giving birth, and we hear a story about how it all begins – waiting on the thoughtful “Yes” of a young girl.  It all begins with Gabriel waiting on the thoughtful “Yes” of someone who by necessity must have the agency – must have the freedom – must have the ability – to just say “No.”  For if, in the end, we do not have the freedom to say “no” to God, how can we ever even begin to think about having a relationship with that same God?

Concerning this conversation between Mary and Gabriel, Associate Professor of Hebrew Bible, Will Gafney, writes: “The Annunciation has been understood as such a pivotal day—detailing God’s intent to dwell in human flesh in and through the body of Miryam (Mary) of Nazareth—that some medieval Christians marked it as the first day of the new year” (Sojourners Online, Preaching the Word, 12/24/2017).  But in fact the Annunciation might be considered the first day of a new covenant between God and humanity – one which invites all of humanity to join Israel in a new relationship with the Divine.  This is God, choosing to put on human skin – not as some sort of costume, but in and through the flesh and blood of a young girl born in the line of David, and betrothed to small-town carpenter who will have his own visions of the Holy One.

“We may call the Annunciation a ‘joyful’ mystery,” writes Elizabeth Desimone, “but surely the experience was a mixed one for Mary herself. I believe that saying ‘yes’ to God did indeed bring joy to Mary, but that ‘yes’ was also the beginning of terrible responsibility and heartache for her, heartache that would extend all the way to Calvary” (Waiting for God, quoted in Synthesis Today, 12/19/2017).

Theologian Ronald Rolheiser describes the Annunciation another way.  He writes: “We are told that Mary pondered the word of God until she became pregnant with it. What an extraordinary notion! This…. means that [at least on one level] Mary so immersed herself in the Holy Spirit (in charity, joy, peace, patience, goodness…) [that] their seed takes root in her” (Rolheiser’s Facebook page).  That rootedness is what gives Mary the strength to sing out, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior” – proclaiming a God who lifts up the lowly, who gives strength to the broken-hearted, and who calls to justice those who take pride in their power over others.

That rootedness for Mary is the very reality that God desires for us as Advent transitions into Christmas.  God’s desire – God’s hope – God’s dream for us – is that we would become so willing to ponder the wonderful mystery of the Word Made Flesh that Christ might actually take root in us.  God’s desire – God’s hope – God’s dream for us – is that by embracing the wonder and awe of Christmas, we would be willing to take God upon us, and within us, in such a way that we seem to the world to be impregnated with God’s Holy Spirit – filled to overflowing with the grace and love of God made alive in us through the gift of Emmanuel – through the gift of God with us – the gift of God in us!

As we move through the final hours of this wonderful season of anticipation and preparation we are challenged to open our hearts and our minds to the coming incarnation of Christ.  It is not always an easy challenge to accept or to live in to – this rootedness in the mystery of God.  As we explored last week, this world is not always quick to embrace the words of Mary’s Magnificat – it is a stumbling block to many who seek their own welfare over the welfare of the world.  But Christ comes into our lives to change our lives, just as Christ comes into this world to change this world.  It all began with the answer of a young girl.  Over two thousand years later the answer is ours to make.  The “yes” is now ours to proclaim.

Think Again

Advent 3B; Isa 61:1-4, 8-11; John 1:6-8, 19-28 St. Paul’s 12/17/2017

Jim Melnyk: “Think Again”

Sometimes we get hold of an idea that we just can’t seem to let go of – no matter what happens around us – no matter how life and community are shaped.  We cannot let go of the expectations and hopes which hold us captive at least as much as we hold them sacred.  Just watch a couple of folks argue politics, religion, or even sports!  Each of us has experienced the grip of expectations which can overwhelm, control, and sometimes even paralyze us when life and faith prove different from each other.

Today’s gospel lesson is an example of expectations gone awry.  Notice how the passage rests within the opening words of John’s gospel.  There, in the midst of the beautifully poetic hymn to the Logos – the hymn to the Word Made Flesh – is a disclaimer about John the Baptist.  “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people” (1:1-4).  The Word was God – but John was not the Word.  The word was the light of the world – but John was not the light.  The Word became flesh and lived among us – but people, we’re not talking about John.  And whoever believes on this Word Made Flesh – the One who comes after John – has been given power to become children of God.

The placing of this record about John is vital because it’s written some sixty or seventy years after the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus.  Sixty or seventy years after the resurrection there are still folks holding on to the belief that John the Baptist was the Messiah.  It’s a classic case of the Messenger getting confused with the Message.  And this all happens in spite of John’s emphatic words of denial, and his faithfulness in pointing the way toward Jesus as the Christ.  And even though John wasn’t always quite sure that he called it right concerning Jesus – you may recall he later sends his disciples to ask Jesus if he is the One for whom they have waited – he always made it clear that he was not the Messiah – that he was not the Christ of God.

But people couldn’t let go of John with all his charismatic fire and brimstone preaching. Like a street preacher today, he was probably mesmerizing for many.  He didn’t back down from challenging religious leaders or Roman soldiers.  John didn’t have any trouble calling folks things like a “brood of vipers” – or trouble comparing God’s judgment and wrath toward humanity like taking an ax to a tree and throwing it in a fire (Mt. 3:7, 10).  They couldn’t let go of their vision of John as a potential sword-swinging, gate-crashing, empire-busting Messiah who would come in and sweep Rome into the sea and restore the throne of David in Jerusalem.  But John wasn’t the one – wasn’t the Word Made Flesh – wasn’t the Messiah.

What did they get instead?  Jesus – an itinerate preacher who, they thought, couldn’t even see – or at least fully understand – the gallows standing right before his eyes.  Often challenging and thought provoking, but no fire and brimstone here.  No broods of vipers.  No axes to the trees.

Rather, Jesus preached repentance and Good News that embraced the grace and love of God. Jesus is the One who stops on a crowded street to heal a woman weakened by years of unstoppable bleeding.  Those wanting to hold on to John as their answer from God hear stories about a person who takes the time to straighten a woman’s crooked back with the touch of a hand.  Someone who asks the blind beggar Bartimaeus, “What do you want me to do for you?” instead of ignoring him or blaming his blindness on sin.  They experience someone who takes the time to sit by a well in Samaria of all places and talk theology with a woman whose life is in chaos. 

Instead of the fiery Baptist they are challenged with someone who dares to touch and heal lepers – someone who cares for Jew and Gentile alike – even calling a tax collector to be one of his disciples.  Not a swash-buckling savior, but rather the very Incarnation of God who comes among God’s people as a servant for the whole world.

The community of God Jesus calls into being has a servant on the throne; One who washes his disciples’ feet.  The community of God Jesus calls into being has a servant on the throne; One who says, “You are not my slaves, but rather you are my friends” – a servant who gives his body to all as heavenly food.

The followers of John didn’t find the Messiah they expected to find, but many were able to let go of their expectations and grasp the new reality of God’s advent as a Servant-Savior.  It’s a difficult shift to make – from crown and throne to thorns and cross.  It’s a hard shift for many in the twenty-first century as well.  The Servant Song or Mary’s Magnificat don’t play well in a culture that demands success, control and status.  It’s a hard shift to make when the chaos of our lives seems to demand sharp judgments of right or wrong, in or out, loved or not loved – when so many Christians around us still long for return of Jesus in the twenty-first century equivalence of a fiery war chariot.  And for some modern-day folks the shift never comes – they live out their lives waiting for the kind of Messiah who will never come – who can never come.

Sometimes, like the followers of John, we can get hold of an idea that we just cannot seem to let go.  And yet, Advent can be for us a time of letting go – a time of letting go of unhealthy hopes and dreams that control and paralyze us – or unhealthy hopes and dreams that comfort us and call judgment down on others. Advent can be for us a time to hear the words of the prophet Isaiah in a new way: “The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners…to comfort all who mourn…to give them a garland instead of ashes,  the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit” (61:1-3 ).  Advent is a time when we can hear anew the words of the Psalmist: “The Lord has done great things for us, and we are glad indeed…. Those who sowed with tears will reap with songs of joy” (126: 4, 6).

The season of Advent challenges us to seek the hopes and dreams that free us to be the people of God we are called to be – to live into the image of God stamped on our souls and the seal of God’s Holy Spirit marked on our brows – making a difference for good in this world.  And the season of Advent challenges us to see that image – to recognize that seal – on everyone – even those with whom we struggle to love or even accept.

Advent holds for us a holy promise.  Advent is a time of hope and expectation that invites the world into new relationships with each other and with the Word Made Flesh – Jesus Christ.  In Advent the ever-unfolding grace and love of God comes to us and meets us in the midst of our chaotic lives, and invites us to be one with our Creator and one with each other.  In Advent God reminds us that we’re not called to be swash-buckling, gate-crashing, world-saving Christians. 

Rather, we are called to be the on-going incarnation of the One we call Christ.  We are called to be the on-going incarnation of the One who calls himself the servant of all – the One who by right could have claimed all worldly power, but rather became a ransom for all.

In Advent we’re invited to let go of all the baggage the world throws our way saying, “Life’s too busy, let someone else take care of things,” or, “the heck with everyone else – I’ve got to look out for myself.”  We’re in this world together, my friends – each waiting for the promise of God to break upon us, and within us, to make us new.  God comes to us in great power to stir us up – to free us from hardness of heart – to bring healing and wholeness to a broken world – and to make us servants of God’s grace and love.