Keep on Living — Saturday Sermons from the Sidelines

Friends, I’m going to talk about suicide. If that causes you distress, then please stop reading and be good to yourself. If you want to continue, please know that I have what I hope are some encouraging words here. Because of the topic, I would not preach this sermon at a worship service, since people present would not have the freedom to stop listening if they needed to do so. Thus, this is one of those sermons that can be written but perhaps not spoken.

I have always opposed the death penalty. Except for myself.

I have sometimes viewed failure as a capital offense — for me. When I look back at the first time I seriously considered ending my life, it was at a moment of big personal failure. I had clearly demonstrated — at least to myself — that I was a useless, worthless, piece of refuse. The reasonable response, my befuddled brain told me, was to put an end to the stupidity and spare the world the burden of dealing with me.

I can smile now at the melodrama and grandiosity, the self-absorption and self-pity, that I know was part of such a moment. But I cannot discount the life and death reality of that moment, clouded as it is in the mists of memory. Whether I was being “realistic” or not was hardly the point. I came far closer to ending my existence than is safe for anyone to consider.

This comes to mind for several reasons. I am finishing my tenth annual “death march” from the anniversary of my first spouse’s untimely death on November 20th to my own birthday on December 19th. I have become accustomed to morbid reflections on my mortality and am not nearly as put off by them as I once was. But I am also reminded that convicting and sentencing myself for the capital crimes of personal failure was not a one-off event.

I didn’t realize until I went through it just how common are thoughts of suicide in the community of those who lose a close loved one. I did indeed feel the pull to join Anne in moving to the New Life. I did wonder what precisely might be left for me now that life as I knew it was over. I did long for a way out of the pain and suffering of bereavement. Once someone that close to me had died, death was less of a stranger and more of a companion, a sort of friend of a friend.

Most of all, I was sure I had failed her — all consoling counter-assertions notwithstanding. I couldn’t reconcile my continued life with her sudden death. I had not kept her alive, so why should I keep me alive? My failure was fatal to her, why not to me as well?

I didn’t live with those thoughts every waking moment. The fantasies of self-annihilation were usually fleeting. But there were enough episodes of concrete plans and opportunities, of near misses and false starts, that I knew I had to be very careful for a while. And I had to refocus on another path back to life.

While my situations hardly mirrored those of Mary at the Annunciation, I am in awe of her response. I think that I might not have been so willing and able to choose to live in the new reality that faced her. Yes, there was all that happy talk about a son who would be the Savior. But there was going to be one hell of a shitstorm, to adopt the current vernacular, for Mary along the way. Whether she had failed or not, that’s how she would be viewed. I might have thought that sufficient grounds to carry out my self-execution.

But not Mary — “Let it be to me according to your word.” Mary did not merely choose life. Mary chose to keep living in the new reality not of her own choosing. Her response to “failure” (and let me be clear, she did not “fail” but would have been treated as if she did) was to keep on living — for her child, for her people, and for the world.

I just listened to the latest episode of the On Being podcast. Krista Tippett talked with Jennifer Michael Hecht under the title, “We Believe Each Other into Being.” I remember Hecht and her work on doubt from nearly two decades ago. You can listen to that conversation here: https://onbeing.org/programs/jennifer-michael-hecht-we-believe-each-other-into-being-on-being/. Be sure to listen to the end as she reads two beautiful and poignant poems that deal with suicide.

“Your staying alive means so much more than you really know or that anyone is aware of at this moment,” Hecht says during the conversation. “But we’re in it together in this profound way, and you can take some strength from that.” She argues that people can be reminded in healthy ways of the communitarian impact of taking one’s own life and that this can be a curb to reduce such self-fatal responses.

In addition, she pleads with the self in pain to consider and respect the future self who will never have a chance to live if one ends it all. The conversation caused me to reverse that thought. I want to express my gratitude to my earlier selves (and all who supported them) who chose to keep on living in those dark hours of despair. I am especially grateful to that troubled young man who stepped back from the precipice and stumbled through the disasters he had created. I don’t want to punish him now. I want to thank him for letting me live.

That’s true for all those other men (who were me, and the people who supported them) who have made similar choices for me in the last forty-odd years. Of course, I differ with Jennifer Michael Hecht in how those choices came about. I was rescued repeatedly by the interventions of a compassionate God who either spoke to me directly or sent people with the message.

“No, don’t do it! You are not a failure. You are not a useless, worthless piece of refuse.” Hearing a voice like that in the dark can peculiarly focus one’s attention. “You are beloved in the midst of the pain, sorrow, failure and fear. So keep on living, and we’ll see what we can make of this mess.” I am certain that I would not have made such a choice on my own. But I could follow instructions.

“Let it be to me according to your word.” One of the few places I dare to connect with Mary is here. She responds with courage and hope. But that courage and hope have been poured into her along with the life of her child. She is pregnant not only with a baby but with expectation that the darkness cannot overcome the light. She responds to these gifts with brave faith, and I’m not at all in her league in that regard. But she knows the source of her hope and accepts the life she’s given.

Hecht and Tippett both refer to Camus’ opening line in The Myth of Sisyphus. “There is but one truly serious philosophical problem,” he wrote, “and that is suicide.” I read those words as a college sophomore, but as a typical sophomore, I didn’t finish the book. So I never got to Camus’ conclusion. He paints a picture of Sisyphean courage and even good humor in the face of life’s absurdity. Every time the boulder rolled back over the protagonist, Camus argued, he got himself up, dusted himself off, and began again.

For Camus, that was the source of meaning in life. Sisyphus was made of sterner stuff than I by far, and so was Camus. I could not find personal or communal meaning in simply asserting that life was meaningful. That seemed like trying to erect a building with no foundation. I am grateful that my younger self was not allowed to surrender at that point. I am grateful that God demanded that I would seek a foundation that works.

“Let it be to me according to your word.” That’s the foundation. Choose to keep on living another day. Do it for your future self — who will undoubtedly thank you. Do it for the community of those who find you far more valuable than you find yourself sometimes. Do it for the cosmos that needs all hands on deck in order to make sense of things. Do it, if you’re like me, because the Creator and Giver of life finds you to be of infinite worth and has plans to use you for remarkable good.

Keep on living. Thanks!

Text Study for Romans 16:25-27

“Now to God who is able to strengthen you according to my gospel and the proclamation of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery that was kept secret for long ages but is now disclosed, and through the prophetic writings is made known to all the Gentiles, according to the command of the eternal God, to bring about the obedience of faith— to the only wise God, through Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory forever! Amen.”

Textual scholars disagree about whether this doxology was part of Paul’s original letter to the Romans. Many ancient manuscripts do not include it. It may be that Paul wrote a copy of the letter to the Romans without chapter 16 and a second copy that was sent to Ephesus with the final chapter (See A Textual Commentary, pages 533ff.). In some manuscripts the doxology occurs at the end of chapter 14 and in one manuscript at the close of chapter 15. In all, Metzger notes six possible combinations of locations and doxological texts. Regardless, relatively early on, these verses formed the end of Paul’s great letter, and we are the beneficiaries.

It is perhaps a jarring phrase: “To bring about the obedience of faith…” Paul’s Greek is both obscure and ambiguous here, three words with no verb in the phrase (one is supplied by the translators). We Lutherans can have an allergic response when “obedience” shows up in a text. The word smacks of works done in response to a command. That makes us nervous about works righteousness, and the conversation goes downhill from there.

An understanding of obedience, however, is built into Luther’s understanding of how faith works. Article 6 of the Augsburg Confession is sometimes titled “The New Obedience.” The confession says, “It is also taught among us that such faith should produce good fruits and good works, and that we must do all such good works as God has commanded, but we should do them for God’s sake and not place our trust in them as if to thereby merit favor before God.” So, it is not that good works somehow precede or produce saving faith. Rather, good works are the products of such faith.

Luther spends a large part of The Freedom of the Christian on this relationship. Because of our redemption in and through Christ, we need have only one concern: “to serve God joyfully, with boundless love and no thought of earning anything.” (page 511). Obedience to God is the fruit of faith in Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit, rather than a path toward divine approval. This obedience is expressed through works of love for the neighbor. Through these works we function as Christ for one another. As Luther often said, “God has no need of my good works, but my neighbor certainly does.”

This coincidence of opposites – obedience and faith—is only one of several in the doxology. For long ages, God’s plan for redemption was hidden as a “mystery” but now is revealed. The good news was secret and is now disclosed. Where we expect to find certainty and clarity, we encounter the mists of divinity. Where we expect to find glory, we find the crucified Messiah.

“The humility of God in the person of Jesus Christ redefines glory forever,” writes John Frederick. “The posh royal thrones of human rulers no longer express the glory of true kingship. The royal throne of the crucified God is now forever defined by the humility of a carpenter on a cross, thereby killing the idolatrous narrative of human prestige, power, and arrogance.” Like David, we so often seek to build God’s house to our own specifications. In fact, God builds us into a house of obedient faith, according to the specifications of Jesus Christ, by the Spirit’s power.

Arland Hultgren pulls it all together. “The passage from Romans relates to the other two passages quite directly, although subtly,” he writes. “The author declares that the mystery, the divine secret, has now been disclosed for all the world to hear,” he continues. God is indeed faithful and keeps God’s promises. But the shape of that faithfulness – found in manger and cross and empty tomb – could not have been predicted.” The fact that we could not see it coming, however, makes it no less faithful and true.

“The coming of Christ into the world was in fulfillment of the divine purpose,” Hultgren concludes, “furthermore, the proclamation of the gospel of his coming to all the nations was consistent with that purpose as well.” That’s the zinger that animates Paul’s letter to the Romans throughout. The obedience of faith found among the Gentiles is not a failure of or revision to the working out of God’s promise. This has been the plan all along, Paul writes, to the congregations at Rome. It may not have been our plan, but we are the ones who need then to make revisions.

I don’t think that dealing with a pandemic was on anyone’s to-do list a year ago. I don’t think that remote worship, mask protocols, Zoom confirmation, and a thousand other changes were part of anyone’s strategic vision. I also don’t think that hundreds of thousands of deaths and millions of illnesses were part of God’s plan (there are lots of others who are responsible for the fiasco).

But I do think we are called and challenged to see beneath the disruption to what is coming to be born among us. There is much in the church in the West that was passing away prior to January of 2020. The pandemic has accelerated some of those processes, and the loss and grief are profound. I don’t know (and neither does anyone else) what comes next in any detail. But we do know that there’s no going back. Things will not be the same in the future.

So, we are gifted with the obedience of faith. We are called to do the next right thing. Congregational leaders are called to hang on with both hands and trust that God in Christ remains faithful. And those leaders are starting to ramp up for what that means in the summer and fall. The Holy Spirit continues to call, gather, enlighten, and sanctify us as the church for precisely that purpose. We pray with Mary, “let it be with me according to your word.”

I look forward to what that will mean.

References and Resources

Frederick, John. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-romans-1625-27-5.

Hultgren, Arland. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-romans-1625-27-3

Levine, Amy-Jill, and Witherington III, Ben. The Gospel of Luke (New Cambridge Bible Commentary). Cambridge, UK.: Cambridge University Press, 2018.

Lewis, Karoline. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-luke-126-38.

Lewis, Karoline, https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/marys-response.

Lose, David. https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/favored-ones.

Malina, Bruce, and Rohrbaugh, Richard. Social Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels. Kindle Edition.

Metger, Bruce. A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament. New York: United Bible Societies, 1975.

Morley, Rick. http://www.rickmorley.com/archives/1218?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=gutsy-faith-greater-than-the-angels-a-reflection-on-the-annunciation.

Powell, Mark Allan. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-luke-126-38-3. Sigmon, Casey Thornburgh. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-2-samuel-71-11-16-5

Text Study for 2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16

I wonder if once again the First Reading is the place to launch a message in this pandemic period. As we fret about whether online worship is “enough,” we get a word from the Lord. David didn’t think the frumpy tabernacle and the Ark of the Covenant were quite “enough” now that he was settled in his reign. So, he proposed building a structure commensurate with the dignity and stature of his God.

Let me take a brief detour here and think about King David’s personality as reported in the Hebrew Bible. Here we read that the Lord has given David “rest from all his enemies around him…” David is clearly a man of action (and of bloodshed), and it would seem that he finds this respite from warfare a bit, well, boring.

So, he begins thinking. I would only point out that the other time he has leisure to think, he accosts, assaults, and impregnates the wife of his best general. He then commits bureaucratic murder to cover up his offense. Perhaps one of the lessons is that it’s best to keep kings busy.

Back to the main thoughts here. Let’s begin by wondering whose dignity was really David’s concern at this moment. Was David genuinely worried about the glory of majesty of the Lord? Or was he more concerned that a wilderness tent and a portable wooden box did not convey the dignity and power he wanted associated with his throne?

Perhaps we should wonder whose needs are at stake when we think that a particular worship technology, location, or style are not up to snuff. Are we worried about God’s needs or ours? Are we responding to divine anxiety or to the human variety? The answer is obvious.

“Maybe what we need to overhear in this pericope during this pandemic, with pressure to take Advent and Christmas to the next level for God, are these words to David and the reminder that God does not need us to take anything to the next level when we have so little energy, time, or technological know-how to give,” writes Casey Thornburgh Sigmon in her workingpreacher.org commentary. “Rather,” she continues, “we need to slow down and let God build us—dwell in us— [be born in us, I might add] in humble, simple, quotidian ways. God takes the covenant to the next level (not us). That’s the awe of Christmas.”

It’s interesting to observe the behavior of the prophet, Nathan, as well. Initially, he functions as would any good, right-thinking court prophet. If the king thinks a thing, then it must be good. “Go, do all that you have in mind,” Nathan says, “for the LORD is with you.” Having the LORD with you, and having the LORD agree with you, however, are two separate things. God communicates clearly to Nathan that temple-building is not going to be on David’s personal to-do list. David has gotten things upside down on the organizational chart.

David will not build a house for the LORD. Instead, the LORD will turn David into a “house,” that is, a dynasty. This dynasty is promised to last “forever.” That’s all well and good, except it didn’t really turn out that way. The House of David goes off the tracks pretty quickly, and things generally go from bad to worse. In terms of historical reality, David’s house ceases to exist in the Babylonian exile. It becomes more of an ideal than an objective fact.

So, the question down the line becomes, “Does God keep God’s promises?” Will the House of David be restored and rule forever? This is the Messianic question. If you use the alternate psalm, Psalm 89, you can hear this question in the background of the psalm. “For I am persuaded that your steadfast love is established forever,” the psalmist writes in verse 2, “you have set your faithfulness firmly in the heavens.” Why does the psalmist need persuading? Because real facts on the ground seem to contradict God’s promise.

The psalmist repeats and expands upon the promise in 2 Samuel 7. This can help us to see the expectation for a Davidic Messiah in Second Temple Judaism and beyond. What’s at stake in that expectation is God’s faithfulness to God’s promises. The Good News of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is that this promise has been kept and fulfilled. It has not, however, been kept and fulfilled in the way people expected. Instead, the Son of God and Son of David is “born in a manger and come for to die.”

“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,” Gabriel declares to Mary, “He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” This child to be born will be the sign that God keeps God’s promise and the instrument by which the promise is kept. Mary’s question, “How can this be?” is not just about her own physical state. It is about the surprising way that God chooses to keep the promise. We didn’t see this one coming.

This is another way, perhaps, to take this text if one were to preach on it in Advent. How often do we say that about the Spirit’s acting in our lives – we didn’t see this one coming? God’s work is often mysterious and even inscrutable, not visible until after it is accomplished. Kierkegaard was right when he said that we live life forward but can only understand it by looking backward.

But often we are not looking, or not looking in the right places, or not wanting to look in the right places, for God’s working and wonders. It is worth asking ourselves, “Am I trying to build something for God, when in fact God longs to build something in me?” What happens to my approach to faith and life this week if I flip the perspective, if I reverse the question?

What happens, I think, is that Mary’s response becomes our prayer. “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” That takes us to the second reading for this Sunday.

References and Resources

Frederick, John. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-romans-1625-27-5.

Hultgren, Arland. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-romans-1625-27-3

Levine, Amy-Jill, and Witherington III, Ben. The Gospel of Luke (New Cambridge Bible Commentary). Cambridge, UK.: Cambridge University Press, 2018.

Lewis, Karoline. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-luke-126-38.

Lewis, Karoline, https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/marys-response.

Lose, David. https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/favored-ones.

Malina, Bruce, and Rohrbaugh, Richard. Social Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels. Kindle Edition.

Metger, Bruce. A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament. New York: United Bible Societies, 1975.

Morley, Rick. http://www.rickmorley.com/archives/1218?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=gutsy-faith-greater-than-the-angels-a-reflection-on-the-annunciation.

Powell, Mark Allan. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-luke-126-38-3.

Sigmon, Casey Thornburgh. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-2-samuel-71-11-16-5.

Text Study for Luke 1:26-38, Pt. 2

2. The Impossible Possibility

With God, all things may be possible. We could easily miss the scriptural connections in this phrase. It takes us back to Genesis 18 and the story of Sarah and Abraham. The couple is visited by three men as they are camp under the oaks of Mamre. During the conversation it becomes clear that the visitors are, somehow, God.

They bring the promise that Sarah will bear a child even though “it had ceased to be with Sarah after the manner of women.” Sarah perhaps finds the whole idea a bit ridiculous and laughs out loud. The men respond, “Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?” This question is rendered in the Septuagint as, “Is any promise impossible for God?” Some manuscripts of Luke pick up the echoes of this verse in a small addition to the Greek text. That scribal enthusiasm makes it clear that readers had the Old Testament story in mind as they read the Annunciation account.

Sarah, understandably, laughs at the ludicrous suggestion. Mary trusts in the promise she has heard. Nothing is too wonderful for the Lord.

Nothing, Mary hears, is impossible for God. That does not mean, however, that all things may be easy. I think we do a disservice to Mary, to our listeners, and to the Gospel when we make this a simple “trust and obey” story. The stakes for Mary here are literally life and death. She responds not only with obedience but with courage and determination.

“Mary, in the annunciation, becomes the patroness, of all who are called by God to do impossible things,” Rick Morley writes. “Of those who become embarrassments to their family and communities on behalf of God. She reminds us that the godly thing isn’t always the prim-and-proper thing. Sometimes when we answer God’s call, we become a laughingstock. Or, even worse,” he concludes. “persecuted.”

David Lose looks at how Mary’s life was utterly derailed and disrupted by this announcement and the events that followed. “Do we think God is done interrupting people’s lives to use them for the health of the world,” Lose asks, “or might we imagine that God is still doing things just like this? Further, might we look around at the people in our congregation and see them as those persons who are also favored by God and through whom God plans to do marvelous things?”

I wonder if Mary ever wished that things could “go back to normal”? Did she ever wish that she could go back to being a teenager in a no-name village in a Galilean backwater? We live in a time when people are nearly overwhelmed with the desire to “go back to normal.” We wonder that out loud at almost every turn. When will things get back to some semblance of normality?

“Back to normal” was not an option for Mary. There was no putting the toothpaste back in the tube on this one. Gabriel’s announcement to Mary has all the classic marks of gospel. It is news that will irrevocably change the world, both present and future. It has yet to be accomplished, but there’s not doubt it will happen. And the news turns the status quo upside down and inside out. Is it any wonder that Gabriel says, “Do not be afraid”?

In what ways is the Holy Spirit coming upon us and disrupting our lives with the good news of Jesus? We cannot and will not “go back to normal” after the pandemic, even as we get excited about vaccine reports. We have been through too much, seen too much, lost too much. Can we look forward to what we have gained, what we have learned, what we want to keep from this Covid-time? Have we been used by the Spirit during this time in ways that are both disruptive and delightful? These are questions worth asking now.

“What I want is to invite our people to take a moment to contemplate that God is at work in them and through them,” Lose continues. “Further, I want to help them imagine one concrete place they can make a difference — where God may be at work in them — between now and Christmas. And once they’ve had a chance to contemplate all this, I want to invite them into the joy of faithful response.” This perspective can take us again, for example, to thoughts about the “obedience of faith” that Paul mentions in the second reading.

It may take some time to answer such questions – perhaps more than an hour, or a day, or a week. Along with Mary, we may need to ponder what sort of greeting this might be for us. “Mary models the kind of reaction we should have to divinity’s disturbance in our lives,” Karoline Lewis writes. “She wonders and ponders. She questions and considers. She answers in awe. And Mary’s reply to God’s call understands that fear is characteristic of our response to God when God disrupts our lives.”

How true indeed. But we see that fear is not the final response from Mary. It is worth remembering the old English proverb here. “Fear knocked at the door. Faith answered. No one was there.” Let it be to us according to the Word.

If you use the Magnificat as the psalmody for the day (or choose to read the Annunciation and Magnificat as a whole piece), the disruption moves beyond Mary’s personal situation. Her obedience of faith has social and economic dimensions. Here is a prophecy of the coming Jubilee year. Remember that Jesus declares in chapter 4 of Luke’s gospel that he is bringing that Jubilee in his proclamation and ministry. Here all the inequities of established life are upended. And (with a preview of the first lesson) all this happens because God is faithful to God’s promises “to Abraham and his children forever.”

Liturgically, this is an opportunity to sing the Annunciation and Magnificat using the setting from Holden Evening Prayer. I never miss an opportunity to do that. More to the point, what happens to Mary will happen to all of us, to all the world, to all of Creation. Nothing is impossible for God. Thus, even in this time of restriction and retreat, we can and must look for the impossible possibilities the Holy Spirit is bringing about.

References and Resources

Frederick, John. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-romans-1625-27-5.

Hultgren, Arland. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-romans-1625-27-3

Levine, Amy-Jill, and Witherington III, Ben. The Gospel of Luke (New Cambridge Bible Commentary). Cambridge, UK.: Cambridge University Press, 2018.

Lewis, Karoline. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-luke-126-38.

Lewis, Karoline, https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/marys-response.

Lose, David. https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/favored-ones.

Malina, Bruce, and Rohrbaugh, Richard. Social Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels. Kindle Edition.

Metger, Bruce. A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament. New York: United Bible Societies, 1975.

Morley, Rick. http://www.rickmorley.com/archives/1218?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=gutsy-faith-greater-than-the-angels-a-reflection-on-the-annunciation.

Text Study for Luke 1:26-38, Pt. 1

On the fourth Sunday in Advent, we prepare to “turn the corner” into the Christmas season. We hear Mary’s words of obedient faith. And we pray that the same kind of faith might come to birth in us. I think of the words of my favorite Christmas carol, “Oh, Little Town of Bethlehem.”

“Oh, holy child of Bethlehem, descend to us we pray. Cast out our sin and enter in, be born in us today.”

That is always my Christmas prayer.

Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Pexels.com

1. The Call of Mary

We “begin” a fourth time in Advent – from the birth pangs to the gospel to the witness and now to the divine creation out of nothing –heading toward the actual birth. As Levine and Witherington note in their commentary, “The one miracle greater than that of a postmenopausal woman conceiving is that of a virgin conceiving.” When Mary wonders about the mechanism of this miracle, Gabriel’s answer in verse 35 echoes the language of Creation.

In Genesis 1, the Spirit hovers over the face of the deep and brings order out of the chaotic waters. In Luke’s writing (remember that “Luke” wrote both the gospel and the Acts of the Apostles), the Holy Spirit comes upon Mary here and to the disciples in Acts 1:8ff. In other places in Luke, the verb for “overshadow” is used to indicate the coming of judgment and the great reversal at the end of the age. Perhaps this is a nod toward the reversals mentioned in Mary’s song, historically called the Magnificat.

Malina and Rohrbaugh note that the word for “overshadow” has an additional and deeper meaning. “Further,” they write, “the Greek verb translated ‘will overshadow you’ is used in the Greek version of the Hebrew Bible to describe God shielding and protecting (Ps. 90:4; 139:7; Prov. 18:11). Mary is thus described as empowered and protected by God…” (page 288).

This text is often called the Annunciation, the announcement to Mary of the pregnancy of her cousin Elizabeth and her own entry into the family way. Commentators note, however, that this text has much more the flavor of a prophetic call story than that of a birth announcement. Levine and Witherington remind us that “Mary” is just a translation of the Hebrew name, “Miriam.” Miriam is the first of many women in the Hebrew Bible who participate actively in and then sing about God’s triumphant salvation.

Mary wonders what sort of greeting she has received. We might wonder what sort of prophet we encounter here. “The evangelist Luke does not exalt Mary as a goddess, or as a mother, or even as a woman,” Mark Allan Powell writes in his workingpreacher.org commentary. “He thinks she has a more important role, as the ideal Christian. In the Third Gospel, Mary becomes the model for Christian discipleship, the person who all people, men and women alike should emulate, especially if they wish to follow her son.”

This ideal Christian moves from terrified to incredulous to obedient – all in the span of nine verses. The word the NRSV translates as “perplexed” would be better translated as “terrified,” according to Levine and Witherington (page 34). This makes more sense of Gabriel’s words of calm and comfort to the young woman. Any prophetic call worth the bother should begin with terror at the prospect of seeing the Lord of the universe face to face. Mary finds herself in line, for example, with Isaiah and his vision in Isaiah 6.

In the middle of the text, we have both the naming of Jesus and the description of his role and mission. Jesus, the new Joshua (“Jesus” is the Greek rendering of the Hebrew/Aramaic name “Yeshua”), will lead God’s people into the promised land of God’s blessing. He will be the Son of the Most High, the Son of God. He will be king of Israel and heir of David. He will claim and fulfill the royal promises and messianic hopes of Israel, including those found in our first reading from 2 Samuel 7.

Notable as always is the title “Son of God.” Remember that the Roman emperors claim this title as their own – on coinage and statues and official proclamations. “Son of God” is not only about origin and descent. It is about authority and mission. Mary is the first, in Luke’s account, to hear the good news of Jesus and, quite literally, to bear that news to the world.

Mary assents to this prophetic and apostolic role. It’s worth looking at that assent in detail. Karoline Lewis notes this rapid transition in Mary’s vocation. “Any sermon on this text worth its weight will somehow create, expand, and eventually resolve, to a certain extent, and as much as is theologically possible, the tension between “How can this be” and “Let it be with me according to your word,” Lewis writes in her 2011 workingpreacher.org commentary.

“Here am I,” Mary says. Again, I find us in the divine throne room with the prophet Isaiah. “Here am I,” he declares, “send me.” It is conceivable (pardon the pun) that either Isaiah or Mary could have refused the call. God rarely kidnaps people into prophecy. In the face of this impossible possibility, Mary accepts her calling and opens herself to whatever may come.

“Here am I,” Mary says, “the slave of the Lord.” The NRSV translation softens the term Mary uses. It is the Greek doule, not diakone. The word literally means “female slave.” Commentators note that this text has often been used to exalt a kind of passive submission as a virtue. In this way, the assumptions of enslavement are underwritten and encouraged. In a time when more women and children are enslaved globally for the purposes of sex trafficking than ever before in human history, such a reading is troubling.

Levine and Witherington provide some help in this regard. “Alternatively, Mary’s self-designation can function as an ironic indicator of both personal freedom and complete devotion,” they write, “the only master Mary has is God, and she willingly places herself in divine hands…” To be a slave of God is to be free from every other master, which is to be truly and fully free to be what God has created us to be.

The description, they continue, also associates Mary with other “slaves of the Lord” in both the Hebrew and Christian bibles: Moses, Joshua, Samuel, Saul, David, Zerubbabel, Paul, and James. “Mary thus situates herself,” Levine and Witherington conclude, “among kings, prophets, apostles, and evangelists.” Mary is, for Luke and for us, a model of the “obedience of faith” we will find in the second reading for this Sunday.

Lewis suggests that preaching on this text “will move us from the absence of God (1:34), to the presence of God (1:35), to the fulfillment of the promises of God (1:36)….Somehow, someway,” she concludes, “a sermon on this text will negotiate the radical transformation…from peasant girl to prophet, from Mary to mother of God, from to denial to discipleship.” With God indeed all things are possible. With Mary as our model and inspiration, perhaps we too can consider our prophetic callings, no matter how humble our circumstances or spirits.