“To a Woman Named Mary”

Fourth Sunday of Advent

Sunday, December 21, 2008

2 Samuel 7: 1-11, 16

Psalm 89: 1-4, 19-26

Romans 16: 25-27

Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favour 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.

Today’s suggested reading from Luke chapter 1 recounts the story of the angel’s proclamation, to Mary, that she was about to become pregnant and give birth to Christ.  This passage, which is often referred to as the ‘annunciation’, has been the source of a tremendous amount of theological reflection over the ages, as well as the inspiration for a countless number of artistic, poetic and musical explorations by Christians for the past two thousand years.

It is a fascinating passage, made all the more fascinating by the way that Mary chose to respond.  “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”  Confronted with the enigmatic, potentially frightening, possibly humiliating news that she was going to become pregnant, even though she was neither married nor sexually active – the young woman who we simply know as Mary chose to respond with a bold obedience, and with a courageous faith.

Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.

And with those words, the Christmas story kicks into high gear.

As we all know, there is a great deal of debate, these days, about the nature of Mary’s conception and pregnancy.   Rather than enter into those debates, however, it is important for us to ponder the message that lies at the heart of this narrative.  Regardless of how literal or how metaphorical one chooses to interpret this passage, there is a message that that lies at its very heart that has been pondered for the entire history of the Christian faith, and that has a very significant implication for every one of our lives, even today.

In the first one thousand years of the Christian Church, for example, there were a number of large gatherings which have come to be known as the ‘Ecumenical Councils’, and which sought to draw together Christian theologians and leaders from different parts of the world in order to address and resolve differences of understanding in relation to the claims of the Christian faith.  There are seven of those councils which have come to be regarded as of particular significance in the history of Christian thought.  It was from those ecumenical councils that we have received most of the most important doctrines and creeds of our faith.

The experience of Mary was a focus in many of those great councils of the Church – because our ancestors in faith knew that our understanding of Mary’s experience relates directly to our understanding of the child that was born to her.  In 431, for example, at the Council of Ephesus, which was the third of those seven great Ecumenical Councils, one of the significant issues that was debated was whether Mary could legitimately be called the ‘theotokos’.  This word ‘theotokos’ can be quite literally translated as the “God bearer”, or the “one who gives birth to God”.  These debates emerged largely in response to the work and teachings of the Archbishop of Constantinople, a theologian named Nestorius, who questioned whether it would be better simply to refer to Mary as the Christokos, or Mother of Christ.  At issue, of course, was the question of the relationship between the human and divine natures of Christ – an issue which would finally be fully addressed at the Council of Chalcedon in 451 – and how those two natures could co-exist in the confines of the womb.  How, Nestorius asked, could we possibly call a human being the mother of God?

While we may think that such a claim seems overly bold, and that a debate about such a notion might seem rather arid and semantic, the implications of this title are profound.  After all, if Jesus is the second person of a triune God, a Trinity – as we claim – then by implication, we must, at some level, agree that Mary was the ‘theotokos’, the God-bearer.  Mary gave birth to God.

It is quite a claim.

But this claim did not end with those ancient councils.  It is not uncommon – even in the writings of reformers such as John Calvin and Martin Luther – to find references to Mary, the mother of God.  She has been, throughout the ages of the church, held up as a powerful example of obedience and of faith.  Unfortunately, our seemingly perpetual fascination with debates about her sexual activities sometimes blinds us to the powerful example that she presents to us as a model and an example of courageous Christian spirituality. 

Those of us in the Reformed tradition, particularly since the Enlightenment with its dismissive attitude towards the supernatural and miraculous, tend to be somewhat reluctant in calling Mary the theotokos, the God-bearer.  And yet, not only do we often forget that the seven Ecumenical Councils are a profound part of our own spiritual heritage; and not only do we overlook the fact that to profess our faith in the God who is revealed as a Trinity is to profess, at some level, our agreement with the claim that Mary was, in fact, theotokos; but it is worthwhile for us to realize that the example that she has left us is worthy of our contemplation, regardless of how we view her.

Primarily because of the elevated role that she plays in Roman Catholic and Orthodox spirituality, most of us in the Reformed tradition do not tend to pay much attention to the actions and the example of Mary.  However, our legitimate reluctance to elevate any person or thing into a place of veneration and worship has led us to a significant degree of reticence when people start focusing too much on Mary. 

The unfortunate consequence of this disregard of Mary’s experience and example is that we miss one of the greatest and most powerful images of what it means to be a Christian.

We only come to realize this powerful example when we consider what she did, and what occurred within her.

To put it quite simply, Mary allowed Christ to be born in her.  She allowed Christ to grow in her.  Her life was the source of Christ’s presence in this world.   It is humbling – and quite moving – to truly contemplate the fact that the way that God chose to enter into this world was through a human being. 

And, in this, there is a powerful example for every one of us to ponder. 

As Christians, every one of us is called to follow Mary’s example.  We are called to allow Christ to come into this world through us.  We are called to allow the love of God to come to life within us.

There are many passages in the Bible which hold up this example.  In Galatians, we read, “I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live but it is Christ who lives in me.”  In Ephesians, we read, “I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.”

In these, and in so many other passages, it becomes clear that our calling, as Christians, is not simply to acquiesce to some external idea that Jesus is a good moral teacher, or even that he is the Son of God – but rather, our calling is to allow his life to be found in us, his love to grow in us, his work to be accomplished in us.

Such a notion might seem grand; it might seem fantastic and far-fetched; it might, at times, even seem frightening.   Who are we to think that God’s love might enter the world through us?   Who are we to think that we might be vessels or channels of the divine? Who are we to think that God may actually have placed each one of us in this world – in our homes, our workplaces, our church – so that God’s love can enter into those places, in this world, yet again?

It is, in fact, only when we realize how grand, how fantastic, and even how frightening such an idea actually is, that we begin to realize the courage that lay at the very heart of Mary’s response.  The idea that God’s son would be born in her, the idea that the promised Messiah was about to come to life in her would have seemed just as grand, as strange, as fantastic and as frightening to Mary as it would seem to any one of us.  And yet, how did she respond?

Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.

May it be our prayer, as we prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus, at Christmas, that we will have the courage, the faith and the boldness of Mary, so that the living Christ, the love of God, might again enter this world and come to life -- in us.

 

Amen.