What’s New?
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger Gaines-Cirelli at St. Matthew’s United Methodist Church December 18, 2011, the fourth Sunday of Advent.
Text: Luke 1:26-38
What’s new? I often use that phrase when I greet a friend—often in a rather casual way, like, “what’s happened in your life since the last time we talked?” But new things are never really casual or trivial. We may treat them that way, but they never are. We are changing and screwing up and meeting new people and being encountered by new ideas and facing new challenges every day. Some of these things we may be more aware of than others. I mean, it’s kinda hard to miss a broken leg or an impending deadline, or a new relationship or a challenging diagnosis. It’s easier to trivialize a new insight or an overwhelming sense of nostalgia or an unexplainable sense of renewed vigor. But new things always bring new opportunities for growth. So I’ve come to a point in my life where I try to be aware of these things in my own life, as often as possible. I find carving out some space for prayer and contemplation is helpful in this quest for awareness. And I’ve also started trying to be more aware of the response I get when I ask the question: “What’s new?”…because the answer is always important, even if the person doesn’t seem to think so.
Many of us have heard this story from the Gospel so many times over the years; it may be hard for us to hear anything new. But I want us to consider—perhaps for the umpteenth time—what we can learn about our God and about our own relationship with God through this extraordinary story. And the story, as we well know, focuses on a girl named Mary.
Why did God choose Mary to bear this new life? What had she done to deserve it? We don’t know what Mary did before God’s messenger Gabriel came to bring her this news. But we do know a bit about Mary’s response. Perhaps we’ve heard this story so many times that we don’t even think about the possibility that Mary could have said “NO.” I mean, Mary was not like Elizabeth or those other women in the Bible who had been praying and longing for a child. Mary wasn’t even married yet. However, when given the news by Gabriel of this new opportunity Mary says, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Mary couldn’t have known all that would transpire; though she surely must have imagined that her acceptance of this baby would mean losing Joseph, her betrothed, and that saying “Yes” to this pregnancy would mean being shunned from her community. And even though tradition tells us that Joseph did go through with the marriage and did care for the child they named Jesus, we would do well to remember that receiving this new life from God meant hardship for Mary for the rest of her life. When we look back on the totality of this story, I wonder whether Mary ever asked herself, “What have I done to deserve this? Why me?”
But even in the midst of all the potential hardship and heartache, Mary’s response is full of joy and gratitude and deep faith. Luke records Mary’s song of praise—a song we call the “Magnificat.” She sings: “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestor, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.” (Luke 1:46-55)
Mary’s song acknowledges that God is doing something new in and through her own life (and we know that the new thing God was doing in and through Mary changed everything)—but in many ways, what God is doing is nothing new. Our God has a habit of doing extraordinary things through unlikely people. King David wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth and wasn’t the obvious choice for that role—he was the youngest of his brothers and a shepherd. And we know from the rest of David’s story that he was far from perfect (adulterer and murderer just to hit the highlights…). David was an unlikely hero in God’s story. But God has a tendency, a penchant if you will, for the unexpected, for turning things upside down and around so that the world might see things in a new way, so that we might begin to see and understand that what is most powerful just might be the small thing, the simple thing, the least expected… Mary’s song and story highlights the way God works: the powerful are brought down and the lowly are lifted up. Those who are hungry and seeking are filled—and the rich, comfortable folk with full bellies are sent away empty. God comes into the world, is literally born into the world, by a lowly housekeeper. The creator of the universe, the Word without whom no thing was made, begins life as a human creature in the womb of this poor nothing of a teen-aged girl. What we learn today is that our God, historically and consistently, has chosen to work in the world among lowly handmaids and barren women. God has chosen to work in the world among those whom society has deemed weak and silent and worthless. This is what we learn of our God today.
My guess is that, while much has changed in our world since the time of Mary, the way God comes into the world remains pretty much the same. Now this doesn’t mean that you have to be poor or a social outcast or of some oppressed class in order for God to come into your life and work through you. But perhaps in a culture that values strength and control and wealth and confidence, in a culture that prizes “having it all together” and being “at the top of your game,” the part of the old story that will sound radical and new is that God works in the world not through that part of us that swaggers and struts through life, confident and self-sufficient, but rather that God is most present in those empty places that need to be filled in the quiet places that can’t find the words. Perhaps part of the message for all of us is that God has a habit of coming to us in ways and places that we don’t expect—in the broken places, the fragmented places, the places that are weak and insecure and vulnerable to intrusions of the Spirit… So in the place that feels like a weakness in your life, how is God trying to do a new thing? What are you being asked to learn, to receive, to offer? In the broken places in your life, how can your faithful, loving response bring about healing or new life for someone in the world? How is God trying to use what is or has been difficult for you as a resource or a gift for those around you? Do you have something to teach? To share? How might your own experience of vulnerability or need be directed by the Spirit toward a new ministry or relationship?
Mary was vulnerable in many ways. She was, after all, just an ordinary human being. She was just a woman preparing to be a mother for the first time. But in her vulnerability, she became strong. Because she was open to God—she received God—who came to her when she least expected such a visit. She was open and allowed herself to be filled. Mary’s “Here am I” resounds through the ages: Here am I. I’m just me, but here I am. Make all things new through me. Use me.
The Incarnation of God as Jesus began in this way. It began with a young woman who said yes to God. It began with subversion. With the lowly exalted and the powerful brought low. The lowly Mary was exalted as the bearer of God. The powerful God was brought low into the fleshly life of the world. Mary’s “yes”—even in the face of loss and suffering and hardship—made room for this reversal to happen. Her acceptance of the child changed the course of history forever. We, like Mary, are called to be bearers of God’s new life in the world. I don’t know what this might mean for each of you. But I trust that God’s messengers will visit you to help you figure it out. What is certain, however, is that because of Mary, we are assured that we, in all our imperfection and brokenness, are worthy and probable participants in God’s wild and wonderful work in the world. Because of Mary, we know that God chooses to use ordinary folks—even the lowest folks on the social totem pole—to be bearers of God’s life in the world.
We’re only one week away from the birth of Jesus Christ. So…what’s new with you?
