A Sermon preached by the Rev. Michael Anderson Bullock
[Micah 5:2-5a; Hebrews 10:5-1; Luke 1:39-55]
As many of us can attest, by the time the Fourth Sunday of Advent arrives, we are sorely tempted to rush by it and get to the Christmas show. After a month of waiting and preparing, the clock is about to run out; and many of us (if not most of us) want to get to the “good stuff”. Christmas is, indeed, nigh. Especially with only one day separating us from Christmas Eve’s prelude, what part of the child within us can possibly wait any longer?
This building pressure is also evident in the life of the church. More often than not, the temptation is keen for the church to leap to Christmas; but giving into this enticement unfortunately comes at the expense of Advent 4. I don’t necessarily cast any blame for this. After all, who doesn’t need a pressure release valve at this point?
So, for today’s worship, many places shift their liturgy. For instance, one might find an offering of “Lessons and Carols”, that well-known Anglican tradition in which pertinent scripture is read in concert with congregational and choir singing. Or one might find the offering of a Christmas pageant, starring members of the Sunday School who perform a charming presentation of the events surrounding the birth narrative. In some situations, Mary (obviously, a trained babysitter in real life) holds an actual infant child in her arms. All these offerings function as quick bridges into Christmas, but my point is that there is a cost to such trafficking.
Consequently, Advent 4, with its content and its function, gets passed by; and I think in doing so (for whatever reasons) leaves all of us the poorer. I say this because the Fourth Sunday of Advent belongs to Mary; and Mary is the culmination not only of Advent’s meaning and significance; but Mary is also an illustration of our life as Christ’s Body, the church.
As our bulletin notes remind us, all of Advent serves as an avenue that connects our lives to God’s life. From Advent’s initial unfiltered picture of what God sees among us in the world, to John the Baptist’s harsh-sounding audit of our personal religious and spiritual lives, like a funnel Advent draws us relentlessly from the cosmic to the unsettlingly particular. Advent reveals that in spite of our wanderings and the world’s resistance, God is on the move, that now is the time in which the Holy One’s promises are being fulfilled in stunning fashion.
And this brings me to Mary. Mary is the sign and symbol of all this: of God’s faithfulness and redeeming love; and more to the point, of Emmanuel: God with us – and us with God.
However, as central a figure as Mary is in the Christian faith, her significance has been ironically controversial. The controversy surrounding Mary runs the gamut from the early church fathers to our own time. For instance, gathered in conclave in 431 A.D., the Council of Ephesus found it necessary to proclaim as an undeniable truth (i.e., a dogma of the faith) that Mary is Theotokis: in Greek, the “God- bearer”, more provocatively expressed as the “Mother of God”. In reaction to this, the 20th century’s most prolific Protestant theologian, Karl Barth, criticized what he viewed as the popular excesses surrounding Mary, calling them “an extrabiblical intrusion” on the Christian faith” that deflected attention from Jesus. So, whether we think of it or not, we inherit this broad spectrum about Mary, viewing her from being a gentle flowered, pastel-painted statue to a poor, oppressed unwed mother. Not to settle things beyond my pay grade, I, nonetheless, want to say that Mary’s significance is that she models what it means to be the church, to be the People of God, which is the reason I believe we need to pay attention to her at the conclusion of Advent and just before we leap into Christmas.
Of all that can and needs to be said about Mary’s modeling of the church, for me two things stand out the most. The first and foremost lies in the fact that Mary said “yes” to God. The second is that Mary went to her older cousin Elizabeth to ponder both their roles in God’s plans.
Mary said, “yes”. Mary said, “yes” not because she understood what God was doing in and with her life, certainly not because God’s call – rather God’s annunciation – was convenient. No, Mary’s “yes” was pure trust (that is, pure faith) in God’s faithfulness. And however one views Mary (either as mild maiden or pre-emergent feminist), Mary’s “yes” to God was a matter of allowing room for the Holy One in her life. After all, it’s not every day that God sends an archangel to deliver reality! And here’s the main point about Mary’s “yes”: She willingly brought God and God’s life into the world. This is a role that all who follow Jesus need to take – not merely following our Lord but bearing him as we go.
You may have noticed that I have referred to the Virgin by her first name. I do so without pretense or casualness – certainly not from disrespect, but from the intimate humanness that Mary shares with all of us. If more formality is appropriate, I am grateful to our Eastern Orthodox partners for maintaining the descriptor, Theotokis: “God-bearer”. Bearing God in the world, in and through her own human life, is the essence of what it means to be the church. This is the consequence of saying “yes” to God: that is, being a human vehicle by which God’s life is born, known, and offered.
Theotokis. “God-bearer”. It is in and through our own baptisms that we have promised the Holy One our “yes” – to bear the Christ of God and to bring him into the world in and through our own lives. Mary is the model of the church, and in an important manner of speaking, she portrays the church’s purpose. Theotokis.
In this last Advent Sunday’s gospel story, I am also taken by a second aspect of Mary’s modeling the life and purpose of the church. In order to bear God’s Christ in the world, two fundamental elements are required: Strength and Community.
Contrary to many depictions and viewpoints about Mary, she was not a delicate lily, easily bruised and in need of special protection. I say this because the way today’s gospel opens indicates both Mary’s strength and conviction. Luke simply reports, “In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country.”
The verses just previous to today’s lesson report what the faithful know as “the Annunciation”. Having encountered Gabriel and received his “Annunciation” with trusting wonder, Luke immediately reports the next thing Mary did. She made haste on an urgent trip. And this is where her strength and conviction show brightly.
The trip Mary urgently took caused her to leave Galilee (presumably Nazareth) and walk south to the Judean hill country. This trip is a three-day walk, steadily uphill from the sea to the hilltowns near Jerusalem. According to the gospel tradition, she did this alone. Pretty tough little girl; don’t you think? In this, Mary models what it takes to be partners with God. Not for the faint of heart, to be sure.
With this strength, Mary models a second, crucial quality that God’s church needs. That quality is community. Being God’s partner is most definitely not a “do-it-yourself” project. And in her 14-year-old integrity and conviction, Mary sought out the company of her older cousin, Elizabeth, who (as Luke previously tells us) is also with child: She who was always thought to be barren. No longer!
I suppose word of such things (namely, a previously barren woman and a young girl pregnant without sex) – I imagine that word traveled fast – part of the reason for Mary’s sense of urgency. But the cast is that Mary sought out the older cousin, Elizabeth; and at the very sight of Mary standing in the front yard, Elizabeth sang for joy, while the baby inside of her (whom we will know as John the Baptist) leapt in her womb in joyful affirmation.
These two women stayed together for about three months. Wouldn’t you like to know what those two talked about? It’s not hard to imagine; is it? One thing about the two women’s time together is that from the start Elizabeth reinforced young Mary and her situation by singing a blessing over Mary for her trust that what was announced to her was true and would be fulfilled in and through her.
Together, Elizabeth and Mary shared themselves with one another. Perhaps they had time to speak of family recipes or of other ordinary things. Perhaps they simply sat with one another in silent wonder at all that was transpiring in their lives. But the key modeling for us as the church is that they did this together: heart to heart; life to life. They showed up for one another. They took care of one another. They helped one another discern and continue to trust what God was doing in their lives, and they did not lose heart or give up. We need to do this for one another, too.
There clearly are times for coffee hour and just spending time with one another. It is good to have fun and enjoy one another’s’ company; and we at St. Philip’s do enjoy our fellowship; but if we are to bear God’s Christ in the world, if we are to take that long, uphill walk that faith so often requires, we will need to be able to talk with one another – to learn from one another; to share and receive wisdom from one another; and to ask for help from one another. It’s what the church is called to be and do; and we need to be better at this, if we are to continue to bear the Christ into the world.
Mary said, “yes” and her seeking community: That’s the summation of this Fourth Sunday of Advent. But what all of us need to remember is that God first said “yes” to Mary and that God has already said “yes” to us, too. That’s what God does, when the Holy One comes calling.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
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