University Presbyterian Church - Chapel Hill, NC

Preached by Anna Pinckney Straight

for University Presbyterian Church, Chapel Hill

 

Luke 1:26-38

In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin's name was Mary. And he came to her and said, "Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you." But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end." Mary said to the angel, "How can this be, since I am a virgin?" The angel said to her, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God." Then Mary said, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word." Then the angel departed from her.

 

Luke 1:46-55

And Mary said, "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever."

 

The Annunciation, the event shared  in the first reading from the Gospel of Luke this morning, is an event so tremendous, it leaves us breathless.  God taking on flesh and coming into our midst!  It is More. More terrifying, more wonderful, more everything than we can imagine.  And we are two thousand years removed from that room occupied by Gabriel and Mary.

 

What must it have been like for Mary?  What must Mary have been like?

 

What was it in her that enabled her to even entertain such a request?  To believe such an unbelievable possibility?

 

It is a question artists, painters, hymnists, poets, theologians ~people of faith~ have been trying to answer for centuries.

This is the offering of the modern poet Stephen Mitchell:

He tiptoes into the room almost as if he were an intruder. Then kneels, soundlessly. His white robe arranges itself. His breath slows. His muscles relax. The lily in his hand tilts gradually backward and comes to rest against his right shoulder.

She is sitting near the window, doing nothing, unaware of his presence. How beautiful she is. He gazes at her as a man might gaze at his beloved wife sleeping beside him, with all the concerns of the day gone and her face as pure and luminous as a child’s and nothing now binding them together but the sound of her breathing.

Ah: wasn’t there something he was supposed to say? He feels the whisper far back in his mind, like a mild breeze. Yes, yes, he will remember the message, in a little while. In a few more minutes. But not just now.[1]

 

And this is how I imagine Mary.  She responds to Gabriel in the same way she lived all of  the moments of her life leading up to this meeting with an Angel of the Lord.  She is serene.  Calm.  Full of poise.  Mary’s heart may be racing on the inside, her mind busily wondering and pondering, but it doesn’t show.  She asks the angel the relevant questions, does an on-the-fly analysis of the situation, and realizes that the only response truly open to her is the faithful response, and so she gives it.  "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word."

 

Who was Mary?  If we had only this text to inform us, we could stop with the words of the Christmas Carols: mild, lowly, gentle, and young.

 

If we had only this text.  Thankfully, we have more, and some of that more was our second reading for this morning.  The Magnificat. 

 

It reveals a whole other side to Mary.  She is still obedient to God.  And because she is obedient, because she is faithful, she voices just how intensely she wants to live in the world God has envisioned.  The world God is hoping to lead.

 

Pregnancy, carrying the Christ child, has not sated Mary’s desire for interaction with the Divine.   It has made her even hungrier for Glorious Impossibles and Divine Justices.

 

And so, when Mary visits her cousin Elizabeth, carrying John the Baptist in her own womb, Mary gives voice to these yearnings, in a song.  It is no ordinary song, no bubble-gum pop tune.  It is a song of praise and protest, hope and challenge.  Leaning on the Everlasting Arms and We Shall Overcome, all in one.

 

Here is Phoebe Willets’ version of what Mary sang:

My heart is bubbling over with joy;

with God it is good to be a woman.

From now on let all peoples proclaim:

it is a wonderful gift to be.

The one in whom power truly rests

has lifted us up to praise;

God’s goodness shall fall like a shower

on the trusting of every age.

The disregarded have been raised up.

the pompous and powerful shall fall.

God has feasted the empty-bellied,

and the rich have discovered their void.

God has made good the word

given at the dawn of time.[2]

 

As I said, it is no ordinary song.

 

I love that these two sides are parts of the same woman, this same amazing woman who is mother of God.  Willing and outraged, contemplative and upfront.  She will bring us our Life, our Hope, our Salvation.  Jesus Christ our Lord.

 

Mary doesn’t have to be all things at all times.  The Magnificat and Annunciation are not in conflict, they are in concert. The Annunciation is when we get to join her in contemplation, to consider God’s call and claim upon our own lives. 

 

And then there is the Magnificat, a time for us to give voice to those yearnings deep within our own hearts for a world in which money is just money and care and compassion are valued more than anything else.  Where the church of Jesus Christ truly is the church of Jesus Christ.

 

Each has their own moment.  Each is valid.  Neither eclipses or devalues the other.

 

All of this has me thinking about how we will be celebrating Christmas.  How we will be celebrating the birth of the Christ Child.

 

I started thinking about it last week, when, while channel surfing, I happened upon the movie Talladega Nights[3].

 

I happened upon it at the very moment when Will Ferrell’s character, Ricky Bobby, a winning NASCAR driver, is sitting down to dinner with his family, and he is offering the blessing.

 

With some pretty heavy editing, here is the essence of that scene:

 

Ricky Bobby:  Dear Lord Baby Jesus… We thank you so much for this bountiful harvest… I just want to take time to say thank you for my family… my two beautiful, handsome sons… Dear Lord Baby Jesus, Dear tiny infant Jesus…

 

  About the third time he prays to Baby Jesus, his wife, Carly Bobby, can’t handle it anymore.

 

Carly Bobby: You know, sweetie, Jesus did grow up, you don’t always  have to call him baby. It’s a bit odd… to pray to a baby.

 

His reply?

Ricky Bobby: I like the Christmas Jesus best, and I’m saying grace… Dear Tiny Jesus,

 

Why does Ricky Bobby like Baby Jesus best?  I suspect that unlike the many monastic communities and church organizations who have the infant Jesus as the focus of their devotional life[4], unlike them, I suspect that Ricky Bobby’s preference is because the baby Jesus asks nothing of him.  Is silent and affirming.  Never challenging or confrontational.

 

And while I certainly do not want this in any way to seem like an endorsement of this movie, it does lead to a good question:

What about the baby Jesus? 

What about baby Jesus?

 

Because that’s the one we’ll be celebrating in just a few days.  At Christmas.  The Baby Jesus, not a child of total affirmation as Ricky Bobby’s theology might hope, but a physical manifestation of God’s grace.  God’s mercy.  God’s forgiveness.

 

As you hear sometimes before the prayer of confession:  “The proof of God’s amazing love is this:  While we were still sinners, Jesus came to live for us.”

 

And that proof comes in the form of a baby.

 

William Willimon[5] writes:

It’s tough to be on the receiving end of love, God’s or anybody else’s. It requires that we see our lives not as our possessions, but as gifts. "Nothing is more repugnant to capable, reasonable people than grace," wrote John Wesley a long time ago….

 

This is often the way God loves us: with gifts we thought we didn’t need, which transform us into people we don’t necessarily want to be. With our advanced degrees, armies, government programs, material comforts, and self-fulfillment techniques, we assume that religion is about giving a little of our power in order to confirm to ourselves that we are indeed as self-sufficient as we claim.

 

Then this stranger comes to us, blesses us with a gift, and calls us to see ourselves as we are -- empty-handed recipients of a gracious God who, rather than leave us to our own devices, gave us a baby.

 

Now, we all know that this Baby is going to grow up.  This baby will soon gain a voice.  A powerful voice.  A voice that will call for radical sharing, generous forgiving, and rule-breaking living.

 

And the current trend, one I have ridden on more than one occasion, is to remind us that we celebrate Christmas because of Easter, and not the other way around.

 

Ann Weems, the poet, says it quiet succinctly[6]:

 If there is no cross in the manger, there is no Christmas.

 If the Babe doesn't become the Adult, there is no Bethlehem star.

If there is no commitment in us, there are no Wise Men searching.

 If we offer no cup of cold water, there is no gold, no frankincense, no myrrh….

 

And she’s right.  They are right.  Christmas is because of Easter.

 

But here’s what else I know.  Here’s what else is right.  The season that is upon us is not Easter.  It is not Lent.  It is not even ordinary time.   We are preparing to celebrate Christmas.  Nothing else.  Christmas.

 

And not only is it okay to spend a little time in the manger at Christmas, it’s exactly what we are called to do.  To receive this gift of grace.  This gift of being in a presence of a child.  The Christ Child.   A newborn, described this way by Louise Gluck:

But how small he is, withdrawn

from the hollow of his mother’s life,

the raw flesh bound

in linen as the stars yield

light to delight his sense

for whom there is no ornament.

 

We are invited to be there.  In that moment.

 

No earlier.  No later. 

 

And it is, I believe, a word of hope.  So many of us.  Some of you, are struggling, overwhelmed, facing greifs, diagnoses, questions, uncertain paths, relationships that aren’t what they should or need to be.  What’s before us, in the Christmas invitation to be present with baby Jesus, is an opportunity to take a break.  To breathe. 

 

A chance to reconnect with the grace that is the foundation of it all.  Of us all.

 

To practice what Buddhist monk Tich Naht Hanh calls mindfulness. Mindfulness.  Being present in whatever you find yourself doing.  Working.  Walking.  Reading.  Peeling an orange.  Playing the umpteenth game of Candy land for the day.  Whatever we are doing, that is the only thing we should be doing.  Being present, recognizing that in each moment, when we are present, we have an opportunity to touch the sacred.  To discover, in his words, ‘There is no way to happiness - happiness is the way.’”[7]

 

To be aware of the glory of God without being consumed by what is yet to be.  Mindfulness. 

 

This Christmas, I believe we have an invitation before us.  To celebrate Christmas.  To celebrate the ironic, amazing, beyond belief ~ but not beyond faith ~ gift of the Christ Child.  The baby Jesus. 

 

A baby who cannot speak or analyze or strategize what we need or should be doing.    A baby who demands that we BE.    Demands only that we let go of the things we think are so important in order to receive the one and only thing that makes all others possible.  Who binds  all wounds and places hope in our midst.  Who brings Grace.   God. 

 

It is almost Christmas.  It is the time to go to Bethlehem and welcome life and hope.   To be present there.  Just there.  Just with that baby, a baby born not out of guilt or struggle but of God’s hope.

 

It’s time to say a prayer to the baby Jesus.  Not as way to escape the world and what is ahead, but as a way to live into it.  Faithfully.  Taking each step as it comes. Each step in its time. 

 

We are your servants, Lord, let it be with us according to your word.  Amen.

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[7] http://www.bbc.co.uk/religion/religions/buddhism/features/thich_nhat_hanh/