More than a Story
THE FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT
2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16 • Canticle 15 • Romans 16:25-27 • Luke 1:26-38
Goldie was a woman gifted in hospitality. She would keep cookie dough in the freezer just in case someone stopped by unexpectedly or in case she didn’t already have a cake on the stand. In her later years as her health declined, she didn’t use the oven anymore but still had a cake stand covered with individually wrapped treats she knew others liked. I often wondered who would find themselves visiting the little house off the dirt road, but I never questioned, never asked. Perhaps it was the hope of a visitor that brought joy enough to prepare herself and the table for another day. There’s always more to a story if we sit with it long enough, read it more closely.
Goldie loved a good fairy tale as much as she loved good food. There’s a predictable structure to fairy tales: a main character has typically already survived some adversity and has gifts that are being underutilized until there’s a clash against the antagonist (clearly representative of evil), and eventually there’s a happily ever after. In some ways, the story of Mary’s role as the mother of Jesus has been shaped into a sort of fairy tale, though with a complicated ending, depending on where we stop. Aren’t there some Cinderella-esque aspects of our tales of Mary? The unlikely lady ending up as the Mother of God? Her daily Galilean garb transformed into yards of royal blue and blood red fabrics, haloed in gold and demurely and serenely depicted through the ages? If we keep the story line simple, maybe it will be easier to grasp. Mary was young, a virgin, and faithfully obedient to God to accept what was asked of her. She had a capable man at her side. Everything was aligned for God’s will to be done. Come back this evening for our joyful conclusion and happily ever after.
As you who strive to walk in faith know, faithful obedience is anything but a fairy tale or a clearly outlined story, at least not on this side of glory. Even our celebration of the Incarnation is not an end in and of itself but another beginning, part of the ongoing story of our relationship with the Almighty. To sanitize or minimize the situation in which Mary found herself and lived her whole life does not help us. God’s in-breaking is always where we are in the fullness of reality.
Mary offered herself, her life, and her service, not to fulfill some fairy tale dream but because she had prepared herself to be faithful, even and especially when it was difficult to do so. Even if it wasn’t supported by the society in which she lived, Mary’s family and her community undoubtedly nurtured her in their tradition and beliefs; she had the gift of faith. Unlike Zechariah, she did not convey cynicism toward God’s will. Sure, she questioned it. What reasonable person wouldn’t? She pondered. And don’t you know she trembled at the enormity of being faced with God’s favor, even as it was her comfort? For those of us who have a hard time accepting a compliment, imagine being told by Gabriel, by the “strength of God,” that you are the favored one, that God is with you, all the while everything else is closing in on why you should be cast out.
All around Mary, the empire breathed heavily in its oppression, and the custom of the time devalued her as a female, let alone as a youth, unwed, and pregnant. She had no power. And yet, she had God’s favor—she who was young, she who was a minority, she who had no experience, she who would have had nothing to lose in history . . . except everything. This encounter gives her a name for all time. This story is recorded in our Holy Scripture. This annunciation gives her both choice and voice in its announcement and invitation if not initiation into her vocation as Theotokos, the God-bearer.
Mary’s story is not a Cinderella story because it’s not about her triumph or rise to fame or happy ending. God’s favor of her did not promise a life of privilege. If we learn anything from how God calls God’s servants, it’s always about what God wills and about our surrender.
Recall our first lesson today.
King David thought all was well and—“Oh, what an oversight! God needs a better abode, a better, more permanent structure to house the holy of holies.” The prophet Nathan agrees, of course; the king should do as he pleases. He’s earned it, and it gives praise to God, doesn’t it? But God sends a message to Nathan, a course correction. God doesn’t need such a thing, and God hasn’t instructed David to do anything outside of what has already been clearly outlined. God gave the king rest and the promise of provision. And God gave the prophet a word to make sure all is clear. God will continue to reveal what needs to be done in God’s time, according to divine will. The king will have to take a seat, and the prophet will have to recant his own words so that God’s Word can be heard, obeyed, and followed faithfully.
The ego of the king contrasts Mary's humility quite sharply, yet the role of servant in God’s kin-dom remains. Dr. Wil Gafney reminds us that at that time servant and slave had the same meaning, that what Mary agrees to is to be God’s woman-slave, even womb-slave. It’s hard for me to hear that in a positive way, and yet . . . faithful obedience to God demands of us our whole selves. A remarkable thing Dr. Gafney points out is that Mary consented to “giving God ownership of her body, ownership slaveholders claimed without consent.”[1] In so many ways, God ignores societal norms and defies expectation. God repeatedly works in unexpected ways, through unlikely people—from kings and maidens, to us and our neighbors.
And in some ways, Mary’s story is a Cinderella story. It’s a story of liberation, a story of defying all odds, all the powers and principalities of the world. It’s a story of the promise of deliverance in the midst of the rubble of this life for those who seemingly have no power, no voice, no choice, no hope for anything different. It’s a story of mutual love because God so loved the world and Mary so loved God. The Holy and Mystery-filled consummation is one that defies our human understanding but holds within it all consent, tenderness, and intimacy—the seed of change, a promise fulfilled, a story to be continued through the ages because of a life that would come to be. It is a critical part of our Christian story.
And because Mary said, “Here am I, . . . let it be with me according to your word,” we move toward our celebration of the Incarnation. Like Mary, may we be ready to receive such news as the goodness it is, even if it terrifies us to our core and surpasses our understanding. Following Mary’s example, may we, too, be ready and willing to offer ourselves in obedience to God’s will or at least be willing to entertain a visit. God has already saved us all, and there is yet work to do for the mighty to be cast down and the lowly lifted. God continues to remember the promise of mercy and persists in love with us. Whoever we are and whatever our gifts, God is working within and among us in wholly unexpected ways, always inviting us to be a gracious host for the holy. How we have prepared ourselves, how we support one another, and how we respond makes all the difference in the roles we fill in the ongoing story of God’s love.
[1] Gafney, Wilda C. “Feast of the Annunciation, March 25.” A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church, Year W ed., Church Publishing, New York, NY, 2021, p. 95.
© 2023 The Rev. Sara Milford
St. Paul’s Episcopal Church – Fayetteville, Arkansas