Readings

FIRST LESSON

The first lesson is from “Annunciation,” an essay by Kathleen Norris in Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas

We all need to be told that God loves us, and the mystery of the Annunciation reveals an aspect of that love. But it also suggests that our response to this love is critical. A few verses before the angel appears to Mary in the first chapter of Luke’s Gospel, another annunciation occurs; an angel announces to an old man, Zechariah, that his equally aged wife is to bear a son who will “make ready a people prepared for the Lord.” The couple is to name him John; he is known to us as John the Baptist. Zechariah says, “How will I know that this is so?” which is a radically different response from the one Mary makes: “How can this be?”

While Zechariah is seeking knowledge and information, Mary contents herself with wisdom, with pondering a state of being. God’s response to Zechariah removes his ability to speak during the entire term of his son’s gestation, giving him a pregnancy of his own. He does not speak until after John is born, and has written on a tablet what the angel said to him: “His name is John.” This confounds his relatives, who had expected the child would be named after his father. I read Zechariah’s punishment as a grace; he could not say anything to further compound his initial arrogance when confronted with mystery. When he does speak again, it is to praise God; he’s had nine months to think it over.

Mary’s “How can this be?” is a simpler response and also more profound. She does not lose her voice but finds it. Like the prophets, she asserts herself before God, saying, “Here am I.” There is no arrogance, but only holy fear and wonder. Mary proceeds—as we must do in life—making her commitment without knowing much about what it will entail or where it will lead. I treasure the story because it forces me to ask: When the mystery of God’s love breaks through into my consciousness, do I run from it? Do I ask of it what it cannot answer? Shrugging, do I retreat into facile clichés, the popular but false wisdom of what “we all know”? Or am I virgin enough to respond from my deepest, truest self, and say something new, a “yes” that will change me forever?

SECOND LESSON

The second lesson is from the Gospel of Luke, Chapter 1 verses 26 through 45

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 the angel came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! God is with you.” But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said, “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 Child of the Most High, and God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob for ever, and of his realm there will be no end.” Mary said, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel said, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; the child to be born will be holy; and will be called Child of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. Nothing will be impossible with God.” Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of God; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.

Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leapt in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me that the mother of the Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leapt for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by God.”

This Week's Sermon

Date: December 20, 2009

Title: Waiting for the Light: Making an Appearance

Message Delivered By: Rev. Dr. Joe McMurray

I received another of those group emails this week. Normally, in the busy-ness of the season, I manage to get to all my emails, but don’t often have time to respond. Some don’t deserve a response and are immediately relegated to the discard pile or the trash bin on my computer. But upon opening this one, it caught my eye, because it actually made sense. You see, it contained a message from Jesus. Here’s what it said:

“It has come to my attention that many of you are upset that folks are taking my name out of the season. Maybe you've forgotten that I wasn't actually born during this time of the year and that it was your predecessors who decided to celebrate my birthday on what was actually a time of during a pagan festival. Although, I must say that I certainly appreciate being remembered anytime.

How I personally feel about this celebration can probably be most easily understood by those of you who have been blessed with children of your own. I don't care what you call the day. If you want to celebrate my birth just get along and love one another. Now, having said that let me go on.

If it bothers you that the town in which you live doesn't allow a scene depicting my birth, then just get rid of a couple of Santa's and snowmen and put a small nativity scene on your own front lawn. If all my followers did that there wouldn't be any need for such a scene on the town square because there would be many of them all around town.

And please, stop worrying about the fact that people are calling the tree a holiday tree, instead of a Christmas tree. God made all the trees. You can, and may, remember me anytime you see any tree. Decorate a grape vine if you wish: I actually spoke of that idea in one of my teachings which explained who I am in relation to you and what each of our tasks was. If you have forgotten that lesson, look it up in John 15:1-8.

If you want to give me a present in remembrance of my birth here is my wish list. Choose something from it:

1. Instead of writing protest letters objecting to the way my birthday is being celebrated, write letters of love and hope to soldiers away from home. They are terribly afraid and lonely this time of year. I know because they tell me that all the time.

2. Visit someone in a nursing home. You don't have to know them personally. They just need to know that someone cares about them.

3. Instead of giving your children a lot of gifts you can't afford and they don't need, spend time with them. Tell them the story of my birth, and why I came to live with you. Hold them in your arms and remind them that you love them, and that I love them.

4. Pick someone that has hurt you in the past and forgive them. You’d be surprised at how important a gift that one can be.

5. Did you know that someone in your town will attempt to take their own life this season because they feel so alone and hopeless? Since you don't know who that person is, try giving everyone you meet a warm smile – it could make the difference they need. Also, you might consider supporting the local hot-line: they talk with people like that every day.

6. Instead of nitpicking about what a particular retailer in your town calls this holiday, be patient with the people who work there. Give them a warm smile and a kind word. Even if they don’t wish you a "Merry Christmas" that doesn't keep you from wishing them one. Maybe stop shopping there on Sunday. If the store didn't make so much money on that day, they'd close and let their employees spend the day at home with their families.

7. Here's a good one. There are individuals and whole families in your town who will not only have no "Christmas" tree, but neither will they have any presents to give or receive. If you don't know them, buy some food and a few gifts and give them to the Marines, or the Salvation Army, or some other charity that believes in me, and they will make the delivery for you.

8. Finally if you want to make a statement about your belief in me or your loyalty to me, then behave like a Christian. Don't do things in secret that you wouldn't do in my presence. That’s an important one, so I’m going to repeat it: Don't do things in secret that you wouldn't do in my presence. Let people know by your actions that you are one of mine.
P.S. And don't forget; I can take care of myself. Just love me and do what I’ve told you to do. I'll take care of all the rest. Check out the list above and get to work; time is short. I'll help you, but the ball is now in your court. And do have a most blessed Christmas with all those whom you love. And please remember – I love you!”
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Will you pray with me? Dear God, today we leave behind the season of Advent and enter the time of the coming of the one whose name we honor and celebrate: the child born in Bethlehem. Help us to set aside the unimportant things that cloud our hearts and minds. Let us, instead, lift up the teachings of Jesus that are somehow easier to understand and practice at this time of the year. Give us the strength to continue these practices at the other times of the year, when they are most needed. And may my words and all of our thoughts be filled with honor and praise to you. Amen.

The Mary we focus on every Advent season had a life that was probably an open book. Most likely, she lived a simple, unremarkable life—a transparent, unhidden existence. Outwardly, there was nothing special or outstanding about her. She was very young—hardly yet a woman.

Yet Mary was chosen among many to a calling unlike any other throughout all of what would become Christendom. And in her being chosen, Mary also chose. Hers could not have been an easy choice.

After Mary chose, her life would now be under tremendous scrutiny because of the choice she made. Upon the announcement of her pregnancy, she could have just as easily been scorned as she was revered—in fact, she probably was scorned by some of her family, her neighbors and her friends.

And she more than likely felt very alone. After the surprise of the annunciation and the visit to her cousin Elizabeth, there are no writings of her experience. There are no stories of other angels following her around. No harp music accompanied her when she traveled into the town. No halo appeared over her head. People did not bow in reverence when she passed by.

They whispered about her, no doubt, and like Elizabeth in her barrenness, Mary suffered a shame of her own—the silent shame of knowing what others suspected about her even when they would not speak it aloud. This is the likely backdrop in the life of an unwed teenager in ancient Israel.

But there is no shame for Mary. We revere her—the young girl who faced a unique responsibility at such a young age that none of us will ever be called upon to fulfill in our lifetimes.

We often speak of Mary’s innocence, her courage and her resilience in taking on this huge role. And yet we don’t often speak of her frailty, he fragility, her vulnerability and how this circumstance came to be. Each year, we take note that the angel asks, and we assume that Mary unwaveringly answers with a resounding “Yes!” without a thought or the slightest pause.

This is so out of the character of human reaction. What about those flashes of indecision we humans are accustomed to? What about those moments of caution—or hesitation—or resistance in accepting such a huge undertaking? To deny the potential for these human moments is to deny the poignant meaning behind the grand event of the birth itself—that God loves us enough—God finds us worthy enough to entrust with us the very message of God’s love for humanity. And God showers this love upon us despite our shortcomings; despite our weaknesses; despite our frailties; despite our fears. Any uncertainty Mary may have felt, even if it lasted for a fraction of a moment, is simply a reflection of one of the many gifts God gave us: the gift we apply every time we are asked to choose.

What of the mysteries that exist in our own lives? Didn’t you know? There are mysteries—multiple mysteries. There are unexplainable events. There are angels who beckon to us, who implore us to take on the various tasks God asks us to do. They beckon us in body, mind or spirit. They call on us to do God’s special work among humankind and among God’s creation.

There could be harps or trumpets; or perhaps only the gentle flapping of wings, or a song of the wind in the trees. There may be a bright, blinding light; or perhaps the slimmest ray of sunshine or even a slight shadow. There may be a booming voice; or a quiet whisper; or a dream that, like a feather, floats gently in our hearts.

Some of us might say, “Well, I’ve never heard anything. I’ve never seen anything like that. And I go through life with my eyes and ears wide open.”

Perhaps in the busy-ness of life, we are not tuned in to the right channel. Perhaps we are not tuned in to what we really should be listening for.
Perhaps in our advanced, multi-media, overly-saturated world, we have become too consumed with distractions that actually blind us to what is staring us right in the face: the face of God, the challenge of God to be better than we are and to do better than we do.

We must not just sit, waiting for a winged angel to appear and tell us what our future holds. We must listen for God every day; for the word is spoken to us, the way made clear. We know the direction we must go and what we are to risk and how we will achieve this thing we are to do. We already know how we should live, how we should treat one another, and what we must sacrifice for the benefit of all.

What keeps us from doing it? What keeps us from our own greatness—the greatness not of fame or notoriety but the greatness of character formed by the choices we make?

It’s very true that even our best choices will not make us popular or renowned. In fact, some of our best choices will land us in trouble. We will slip from popularity because often the right thing to do is unfashionable or seemingly impractical or impossible. This fact may prevent many of us from reaching our potential and cause us to resist God’s voice, holding us back from being able to fulfill our calling. We must resist. Our fear is not enough of a reason not to choose our destiny.

Kathleen Norris says that Mary, though she had questions, made her commitment despite not knowing the outcome. This was the risk she was willing to take. Mary let nothing stop her. She made her choice and lived with its consequences. Sometimes we must take risks when the Spirit is beckoning us to do something out of the ordinary—out of our “ordinary.” We must find a way to allow God’s mystery to lead us, not frighten us away.

We must be willing to say “yes” to God; a “yes” that can help us reach our full potential; a “yes” that can transform us and forever change our lives and our destiny. May we choose to say “yes” and may we continue to follow where God is leading. Amen.