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"Salem.....Where a Warm Welcome Awaits You"
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FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT (The following sermon was preached by Pastor Barbara Melosh on December 18th, 2005.)
With these familiar and beloved words, Luke draws us into the mystery and miracle of Christmas. The story of God coming down to us--it begins with an unexpected and scandalous story, just the kind of story to tell about an unexpected and scandalous God—the one who comes to meet us in the most unlikely places. It’s a story about a messenger who comes with astonishing news. It’s a story about the God for whom nothing is impossible, and the young girl who embraces God’s future. Today’s readings from the gospel of Luke take us on a detour from this church year’s focus on the gospel of Mark. There is no nativity scene in Mark--he skips the birth of Jesus altogether, and starts with John the Baptist, as we heard a few weeks ago. The gospel of John starts at the beginning of time—“In the beginning was the Word”—and then he too goes to John the Baptist (as we heard last week). In Matthew, we get the father’s side of this surprising pregnancy—the angel comes to him with the news, and Mary doesn’t say a word. Only Luke puts Mary into the picture, and lets us hear her questions and her joyful response. How do you imagine Mary? How do you picture her as she hears the angel’s strange announcement, and sings her joy that the Lord has chosen her to bear the Holy Child? For centuries, the encounter between the angel Gabriel and Mary has captivated the imaginations of artists. There are thousands of drawings, paintings, and stained glass windows of the Annunciation, including one right here in our sanctuary, the center panel of the first set of windows on your right. Luke supplies the dialogue as we look at these images. When the angel Gabriel appears, he says, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” Her first reaction is surprise and wondering. Luke tells us, “she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.” In a recent translation, it goes “She was thoroughly shaken, wondering what was behind a greeting like that.” And then, of course, the message really gets strange. God’s messenger tells Mary that she will get pregnant and give birth to a son—the promised one who will rule over Israel forever. Mary speaks for the first time then, to ask wonderingly, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The artists capture that reaction through Mary’s expression and posture. In Leonardo da Vinci’s painting, Mary has her hand up in that gesture of surprise that almost seems to say, “stop—I don’t get this.” In another famous painting (Fra Angelica), Mary has her arms crossed over her chest—you can almost hear her gasping in amazement. In some, Mary is reeling backwards—as if the news was almost knocking her over. There’s a 17th century painting that shows this scene almost as a kind of courtship. At the top are two rosy cherubim smiling their approval, as the angel Gabriel on the right presents Mary with a stalk of lilies, like an eager suitor. Mary looks up from her book, startled but still looking serene. In an unusual image done by an artist who is still living, Mary is alone in a darkened room, sitting on a narrow bed and wearing a brown robe. She’s looking toward the other side of the room where there is a column of glowing light, and she’s got her head tilted in an expression of surprise and even skepticism—you can almost imagine her saying, “How can this be?” It’s a question full of wonder, the question of an ordinary person on the edge of a life-changing and world-changing story. Mary was probably very young, 12-14 years old. She was young, dirt poor, pregnant, unmarried, and Jewish. In other words, she was a nobody in the world’s eyes--a nobody in a world of trouble. “How can this be?” she asks, trying to get her mind around the wonder and risk of God. What is she going to say to Joseph? What will the neighbors say? And even more, how can it be that God has chosen her—chosen her to bring the messiah to birth? “How can this be?” It’s the mystery and miracle of Christmas, the God who calls unexpected people into impossible schemes, and fills our world with possibility. And hear the miracle of Mary’s bold response. In a heart beat, Mary turns from everything she has known to take her place in God’s story. “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” In that joyful yes, Mary leaves behind safety, and embraces God’s future. “Here am I.” It’s the response of prophets and disciples over the centuries, the “yes” of people who hear God’s call and join God’s work. You can hear it, in the voices of the Christian Peacemakers’ team. One of them, now held hostage, wrote a few months ago about their dangerous work of witnessing for peace in a war zone. “We are throwing ourselves open to the possibility of God’s grace bringing some rays of light to the shadowy landscape that is Iraq. We are letting ourselves be guided by something that is beyond rational, intellectual analysis.” You can hear it at Salem—last Sunday, if you were at the congregational meeting. We worried together some about our budget—our projected expenses are running way ahead of our projected income. As we talked, two of our long-time members were whispering to each other. And then one of them announced that they were saying yes to God’s work at Salem—pledging to give $5,000, on top of their generous pledge and right in line with their years of generous stewardship here. That’s risky, isn’t it? They might need that money! But if you were there to see their faces, what you saw the joy and freedom of God’s yes. And you can hear yourself say it. For we too are like Mary, ordinary people favored by God and called to God’s work. You say it whenever you are faced with a decision and turn to God to know God’s will for your life. Whenever you find yourself plunged into risk and change, and say yes to a future you had never imagined. When you think God is asking the impossible of you—and you say yes anyway, knowing that with God, nothing is impossible. “Here am I.” Say it with Mary, and be filled with God’s promise. Thanks be to God.
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