Fourth Sunday of Advent, December 20, 2020

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Gospel: Luke 1:26–38

Theme: Listening to and accepting God's plans for me

Luke 1:26–38

In the sixth month, the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a town of Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David, and the virgin’s name was Mary.

And coming to her, he said, “Hail, favored one! The Lord is with you.” But she was greatly troubled at what was said and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.

Then the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus.

“He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father, and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.”

But Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?” And the angel said to her in reply, “The holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God.

“And behold, Elizabeth, your relative, has also conceived a son in her old age, and this is the sixth month for her who was called barren; for nothing will be impossible for God.” Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.

Music Meditations

Opening Prayer

From the prayer from the liturgy for the Fourth Sunday of Advent:

In the psalms of David
in the words of the prophets
In the dreams of Joseph,
your promise is spoken, eternal God,
and takes flesh at last
In the womb of the Virgin.
May Emmanuel find welcome in our hearts.
take flesh in our lives, and be for all peoples
the welcome advent of redemption and grace.
We ask this through him whose coming is certain
whose Day draws near:
your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit
One God, for ever and ever.

Companions for the Journey

Adapted from a sermon N.G. delivered at Stanford’s University Public Worship in 2008 (with a little help from Walter Burghardt, S.J.):

Can it be that Christmas is almost upon us? Where did Advent go? It seems that Christmas comes while we are busy doing other things: baking cookies to leave on people’s doorsteps, writing cards, shopping—mostly online these days, trimming trees, creating a sense of nostalgia about what Christmas ought to be but can’t be this year (and maybe never was…). And becoming a family happens, too, often while we are not paying attention: while we are trying to decide how to adapt our Christmas traditions to ones that are safe, or attending the kindergartner’s Christmas Sing via zoom, or patching up boo-boo’s or listening to our pre-teen talk about how mean the other kids are. That’s how family happens. That’s how becoming a family happens except most of the time we are not thinking about it, we are simply going about the business of living and loving. And a marriage happens that way and also divorce it seems, while we do the dishes or do lunch or make love or make money, or hang drapes or hang lives—or don’t do any of those things. That’s when and how marriages happen and how divorces happen, and sometimes we don’t even know it. Life is what happens when we are making other plans.

It is also true that that is the way God happens—as we go about doing other things. Look at Luke’s story of a Hebrew maiden in Galilee: As she swept the floor or washed clothes or baked bread, (somehow I don’t think she spent her days praying at a pri dieu while servants did the heavy lifting), as she busied herself about the task of putting together the pieces of her future, into the midst of her dreaming and planning for her new life comes God disguised as an angel (which is almost always how God comes—in disguise—and turns her future upside down.

When I was young, I believed that Mary serenely acquiesced to what was being asked of her—she had no fears, no doubts; after all, she was being given the great honor of carrying God. Who could say no to that? Well, a closer reading of this gospel passage has Luke portraying Mary as unsettled and perplexed by this unannounced visit. Catholic tradition has had much to say about the confusion and hesitation that Mary experiences when the angel first makes its announcement. (”She was much perplexed and pondered what sort of greeting this might be… ‘How can this be, since I am a virgin?’”)

As a result, Christian artists have tended to focus on Mary’s surprise at the moment the angel approaches her. In many Renaissance Annunciations, Mary holds up her hand, palm outward, as if to tell the angel to slow down; in Botticelli’s sublime Cestello Annunciation—probably my favorite painting of all time—Mary’s knees buckle and her eyes drift closed, as if she is about to faint. In a Donatello sculpture from about 1430, Mary’s body twists away from the angel even as she turns her face toward him. In an even more dramatic Ghiberti relief from 1407, the Virgin holds up an arm protectively, as if she expects the angel to strike her. A Memling Annunciation from the 1480’s, like Botticelli’s, portrays a fainting Virgin; however, in this one, she has a couple of smaller angels conveniently at hand to help keep her steady.

One more look at the passage shows that “she was greatly troubled” at Gabriel’s announcement. And “she pondered what sort of greeting this might be.” The angel quickly has to reassure her, “do not be afraid.” How could she not be afraid? In her tiny village, where everyone knows everyone else and many people are related to one another, everyone knows that she and the man who is already her legal husband have not yet begun to live together. And all of them can count to nine. What will they say about her, what kinds of nasty looks will they cast her way when her precious child is born too soon?

The angel did not lay out a blueprint for Mary—telling her in great detail what the scenario would be. So the key words here are not obedience, but courage and trust. It is the same for us. At least in my life, no angel appeared at my graduation from a tiny women’s college in New Haven with a little outline mapping out future events. Life unfolded, day by day, year by year, crisis by crisis and joy by joy, until this very moment, when the road ahead is still not any too clear. There are still options to be weighed, choices to be made, and where the spirit will lead I, personally, do not have a clue. As I look back, I see that often I had to trust in God when the way was murky or painful, I had to have the courage to make difficult choices when an easier way presented itself. Sometimes I had that courage, and other times, unlike Mary, I hedged my bets, choosing a safer route.

The bottom line is this: when God called Mary, when God asks you and me: “Will you?”, he reveals very little: the basic call, the bare bones. His invitation does not include a vita, a biography, a script; and so it calls for an unbelievable faith, trust beyond imagining, your hand in God’s. He does not promise a rose garden. He only promises that whatever the garden, Eden or Gethsemane, He will be there, faithful through all your infidelities.

Given the open-ended nature of the request, given the fact that Mary lived in a society where unmarried women who fetched up pregnant were often stoned, given the fact that she and Joseph did not make this decision together (I would have loved to be a fly on the wall for that first discussion between the two of them), it is almost unbelievable that she responded that way the Luke says she did. “Be it done unto me according to your word”

Mary lived out that “yes” through the hardship of eking out a living in a land beset with political and economic woes, through the normal problems and joys of being a parent, through witnessing the difficulties of her son’s unpredictable career. She lived out that “yes” as she stood at the foot of the cross one terrible Friday afternoon, as she huddled in fear with the remnant of Jesus’ followers in that upper room after he died, as she went wherever life and the early church community took her. Her yes had to be said once, and repeated in her heart over and over. She, actually, was Jesus’ first disciple. According to St Augustine, DOING THE WILL OF JESUS IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN BEING THE MOTHER OF JESUS. So it was with Mary herself.

So it is with us. Through the changes and adjustments, through wonderment and success, through sorrow and loss, through uncertainty, and often failure, we learn that doing the will of Jesus is easy when it is what we want, less so when it is something we do not choose to have happen. “Be it done according to your word” is harder to say when God’s word and my wishes don’t always line up perfectly. We are asked to give birth to the word of God in our everyday lives. The question: Will you follow me? Will you bring the Word of God into a broken and troubled world?

Saying yes, or “let it be” will change our lives, break our hearts, and move us closer to the Kingdom of God’s love.

That is how God happens.

Weekly Memorization

Taken from the gospel for today’s session…

Let it be done to me according to your word

Living the Good News

What action can you take in the next week as a response to today’s reading and discussion?

Keep a private journal of your prayer/actions responses this week. Feel free to use the personal reflection questions or the meditations which follow:

Reflection Questions

  • What are some real-life attention-getters that we sometimes do not recognize as a visitation of the Holy Spirit?
  • When have you most felt favored by God?
  • Has your life turned out exactly as you have planned it? Is that good or bad?
  • Who reveals to you the mysterious presence of God in human flesh?
  • When have you experienced God dwelling with you in difficult circumstances?
  • Is God asking you to do or agree to something that seems impossible? Has it happened in the past? What was your answer? What will it be now?
  • When has doing God’s will been easy? When has it been hard?
  • In what sense am I available to God’s spirit in me? What holds me back?
    (Fears, prejudices, greed, need to control the results; need for success, jealousy, resentments, excessive self-doubts, perfectionism (Mother Teresa: “Jesus did not call us to be perfect, He called us to be faithful”), sheer laziness)
    What holds me back?
  • To which people in my life have I been anointed to bring glad tidings? What are those messages?
  • How do I deal with sudden changes in my life? What is my first reaction? How do I adjust to those changes? Can I imagine Mary going through the same process?
  • Doing the will of Jesus is more important than being the mother of Jesus. In my own life, it might be easier to do God's will when it is what I want, less so when is something I did not want to have happen. Doing the will of God is easier when it is something we want to do or expected to do anyway. Doing the will of God is much harder when it takes us out of our comfort zone. But when God happens in all part of our lives, our job is to say yes, not as an act of a blind faith, but as an act of the will. How did Mary deal with the unknown? How do we?
  • When God called Mary, when God asks you and me: "Will you?", he reveals very little: the basic call, the bare bones. His invitation does not include a vita, a biography, a script; and so it calls for an unbelievable faith, trust beyond imagining, our hand in God's. Was this situation much easier for Mary than it would be for us? Why or why not?

Meditations

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Imagination:

A young girl, sheltered, waiting in Galilee, waiting for her life to begin. She is a virgin, untouched, still almost a child. Waiting. A marriage is planned for some time in the future. A contract has been made, a formal betrothal. He is older, stable, kind. They will never be rich; he is only a carpenter, after all. But life will be predictable, safe. Joseph will care for her. Until then, she works at home, and dreams of the future. Life will be good. She knows that.

Gradually, she is aware of wind, a slight noise, something is in the room with her. “Hello, Mary.” She hears her name on the merest breath of a sound. And with that greeting, her life changes forever.

Can you imagine that conversation between Mary and her parents? How does she explain things to Joseph? In her tiny village, where everyone knows everyone else and many people are related to one another, everyone knows that she and the man who is already her legal husband have not yet begun to live together. But all of them can count to nine. What will they say about her, what kinds of nasty looks will they cast her way when her precious child is born too soon? What makes her decide to visit her cousin Elizabeth so far away? What is the trip like? How does Elizabeth greet her? Does Mary’s response surprise you?

Go over the words of the Magnificat and savor the way in which Mary feels God’s presence in her life and in the world. Open yourself up to whatever God is calling you to this day. Contemplate how God is present to you, when, like Mary, you don’t get what you want, but get, instead, what God wants for you. Practice acceptance. Practice faith. Practice hope.

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions:

This meditation is based on the events just after the Annunciation in the gospel of Luke; the visitation of Mary to her cousin Elizabeth:

It is striking that Mary, newly pregnant, hurries to the side of her cousin Elizabeth, to offer companionship and whatever help Elizabeth might need. Henry Nouwen said:

I find the meeting of these two women very moving, because Elizabeth and Mary came together and allowed each other to wait. Mary’s visit made Elizabeth aware of what she was waiting for. The child leapt for joy in her. Mary affirmed Elizabeth’s waiting. And then Elizabeth said to Mary: “Blessed is she who believed that the promise made her by the Lord would be fulfilled.” And Mary responded: “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord.” These two women created space for each other to wait. They affirmed for each other that something was happening worth waiting for. Here we see a model for the Christian community. It is a community of support, celebration, and affirmation in which we can life up what has already begun in us. The visit of Elizabeth and Mary is one of the Bible’s most beautiful expressions of what it means to form community, to be together, gathered around a promise, affirming what is happening among us.

—Henri Nouwen, The Path of Waiting, p 23-24

Have you ever looked upon marriage, upon friendship and community as a way to wait together for what is to come? Sometimes all that is needed when someone is troubled or frightened is to be present, to sit with another in his or her sadness or fear and simply to be there for that person. However, there are times when we get so wrapped up in our own obligations, busyness or problems that we miss the cues that tell us we are needed. Have you ever known anyone who just seemed to come alive in the service to others? Did that person’s energy inspire you to exert yourself a little more? Is there a friend or someone in your family you can count on when you need companionship, especially while you are in transitional moments of your life? Do you count God or any of the saints as companions in such times? Speak to Jesus about your need for him in good times and in bad.

Poetic Reflection:

A discussion on the poem “Annunciation” by the late Stanford Professor Denise Levertov, adapted from Poetry Magazine:

Levertov asks us to slow down, to take a second look, to ponder for a moment what this eternal moment was like for Mary. Levertov invites us to notice. To notice Mary and her courage, her willing consent, her freedom offered to the glory of God. And as we do this, Levertov asks us one more thing: to take seriously that we might also experience an annunciation. Not just like this, of course, and yet something like this. Certainly, as she says, there have been other annunciations, some, where the recipient accepts openly; some happen where the recipient accepts in a sullen spirit, still others, where there have been outright refusals. And this observation both heightens the beauty, boldness, and courage of Mary’s response as well as invites us to wonder if we might do the same. Invites, us, indeed, to do the same: to be open to the movement of God, to receive with courage and joy, mingled of course with a holy terror at the presence of God, and in this way to participate in the movement of the Spirit:

“Annunciation”

We know the scene: the room, variously furnished, 
almost always a lectern, a book; always
the tall lily.
Arrived on solemn grandeur of great wings,
the angelic ambassador, standing or hovering,
whom she acknowledges, a guest.

But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions
courage.
The engendering Spirit
did not enter her without consent.
God waited.

She was free
to accept or to refuse, choice
integral to humanness.

Aren’t there annunciations
of one sort or another
in most lives?
Some unwillingly
undertake great destinies,
enact them in sullen pride,
uncomprehending.
More often
those moments
when roads of light and storm
open from darkness in a man or woman,
are turned away from

in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair
and with relief.
Ordinary lives continue.
God does not smite them.
But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.

She had been a child who played, ate, slept
like any other child–but unlike others,
wept only for pity, laughed
in joy not triumph.
Compassion and intelligence
fused in her, indivisible.

Called to a destiny more momentous
than any in all of Time,
she did not quail,
only asked
a simple, ‘How can this be?’
and gravely, courteously,
took to heart the angel’s reply,
the astounding ministry she was offered:

to bear in her womb
Infinite weight and lightness; to carry
in hidden, finite inwardness,
nine months of Eternity; to contain
in slender vase of being,
the sum of power–
in narrow flesh,
the sum of light.
Then bring to birth,
push out into air, a Man-child
needing, like any other,
milk and love–

but who was God.

This was the moment no one speaks of,
when she could still refuse.

A breath unbreathed,
Spirit,
suspended,
waiting.

She did not cry, ‘I cannot. I am not worthy,’
Nor, ‘I have not the strength.’
She did not submit with gritted teeth,
raging, coerced.
Bravest of all humans,
consent illumined her.
The room filled with its light,
the lily glowed in it,
and the iridescent wings.
Consent,
courage unparalleled,
opened her utterly.

Artistic Meditation:

Pick an artistic depiction or two on the subject of the Annunciation (Fra Angelico, Boticelli, da Vinci, Caravaggio, Murillo, Donatello, for example) or use this one:

General Guidelines for viewing artistic representation of the Annunciation:

Each artist who has rendered a painting of the Annunciation (and there are many) has offered his or her unique interpretation, both artistically and religiously, of this sacred mystery. Keep in mind that each artist may also use details such as dress and physical surroundings which more closely match the culture from which he or she is coming rather than the actual biblical time and place. This is, in some ways, not true to scripture, but it is true to the understanding that biblical narratives are not just period pieces, or good stories, but can be interpreted through the filters of our own experience and should offer meaning for us and hope for us in the time and place in which we find ourselves. In that sense, they are timeless.

There are several artistic conventions surrounding religious/biblical art:

  1. Birds are a symbol of the spiritual; a dove is a symbol of the Holy Spirit
  2. The angel Gabriel, either aloft or on the ground, is usually portrayed in human form, beautiful and young; some robes can be said to be priestly and flowing, others ethereal. Gabriel often is seen with a lily, which is the symbol of his official task as a herald. Occasionally he is portrayed with a scepter, sometimes with the words “Ave Maria, gratia plena” on or around it. In any event, his affect would portray his origin from on high, his attitude toward for Mary, and the content of his message.
  3. Mary is almost always shown with a halo, or even a crown to reflect her holiness. The style and elegance of the halo/crown (gold with jewels or a simple wreath of flowers) is deliberate. It is significant when she is not painted with a halo or crown. If she is bareheaded, then it implies a sense of privacy or intimacy, as women throughout much of history did not go out in public with their heads uncovered.
  4. Olive branches or olive wreaths are a sign of peace
  5. The colors used by the artist for the clothing, and for the background carry a message as well.
  6. Sometimes there are other scenes, some peopled with saints, biblical personages, or significant architectural details which are seen in the distance or in the background. For example, Fra Angelico’s painting is set in the Dominican convent of St. Mark, and a Dominican, St Peter Martyr, stands to the left.

Questions for Art Reflection on the Annunciation:

Where does this seem to be taking place? Describe the room or surroundings. Is the space indoors or out, public or private? What do you think the author is trying to convey? Are there other people in the vicinity? Does the angel lay out a blueprint for her future? Is God asking me right now to do something that seems impossible?

What do you notice about the posture of Mary? (Is she serenely listening? Is she brooding? Is she repulsed? Are her knees buckling in trepidation? What is the position of her arm or arms? What is her facial expression? What does that suggest to you? Do you get a sense of the artist’s interpretation of Mary’s personality, her response to God’s message, or her possible answer? How would I react in similar circumstances? Who reveals to me the mysterious presence of God in my life? Have I ever been faced with a very frightening situation and been assured that God was with me as I went forward?

Closing Prayer

Take some time to offer personal prayers for yourself or others, if you wish to…

By Thomas Merton:
You have trusted no town
With the news behind your eyes
You have drowned Gabriel’s word in thoughts like seas
And turned toward the stone mountain
To the treeless places.
Virgin of God, why are your clothes like sail?