Sermon, Sunday 13 December, 3 Advent

Our white tree was decorated with footprints:
on one side inscribed with a symbol for a dream or a vision
that we have for our lives/ our church/ our world...
and on the other, a first step we might make to begin to see the
dream into reality.

Given our Nativity Service next week, our theme today was 'joy', as we thought of Mary's response to God.
The sermon was in the form of an adapted monologue told from Mary's point of view...*

Micah 5:2-5[a]
Luke 1:39-45
Luke 1: 46-55 the Magnificat

SERMON ‘Magnificat: a reflective monologue’
Let’s pray:
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts,
be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer, Amen...

Why me? Why me?
I am an old woman now, with what seems to me
several lifetimes' experience behind me,
and I still can’t answer that question properly.
Don’t get me wrong:
I remain convinced that God has a habit of -
raising up the humble and overthrowing the proud.
If nothing else, I’m proof that God uses the most unlikely to fulfil his promise!
I remember the day I met my cousin Elizabeth:
she came rushing from her house to greet me with such joy -
and then, it felt as if I’d turned prophet:
as from out of nowhere, I heard myself singing
a great song of liberation and rejoicing.
But why he chose me in particular – well, you see, that continues to astound me.
I feel so privileged, so undeserving,
and yet, oh, so very glad that I chose to say ‘yes’.

Honestly, though, it was bit of a bolt from the blue.
Who would have thought that in the midst of doing my daily chores -
I was off to the well to fetch some water -
such a momentous thing would happen?
I don’t think I was even doing anything particularly spiritual -
my mind was on many things,
but I can’t say that God was in the midst of my thoughts.
In fact, as I walked along that well-worn path with my water pot,
I was thinking about what marriage to Joseph would be like.
Although the date hadn’t been set, the wedding wouldn’t be too far away -
relatives on either side were busy negotiating, and were nearly done.

There’d never been any doubt about the match -
our families had known each other for years,
and this match had been spoken of for years..
but you know what it’s like:
everyone loves to make a song and dance about this kinds of thing;
it was our custom.
I was looking forward to the wedding day.
The whole village would be there and distant relatives as well.
There would be feasting and music,
dancing and banter,
laughter and, yes, tears.
While moving into a different stage of life,
I was leaving the ones I’d grown up with...
a happy-sad day.
But, I was happy with the prospect of marrying Joseph –
my parents had made a wise choice,
even wiser than I thought, as events transpired.
He was good, sensitive and gentle, hardworking and widely respected.
True, he was a bit older than me, but then I valued someone of
maturity and experience.
I was just a slip of a girl, barely a woman,
and I needed someone to help me grow up
and deal with the responsibilities that would come with
being a wife and, hopefully, a mother.
And then came that life-changing encounter.

Everything I had planned, hoped and dreamed about
was shattered by the angel's message.
God had noticed ... me?
But, I was just a lass - of no importance.
I wasn’t anything that special...
And while I had my family responsibilities -
like fetching the water and generally mucking in...
well, suddenly it seemed I was about to have even greater responsibility thrust upon me:
Suddenly it seemed that the whole course of my nation's destiny,
no, of the world even, hung upon my response to the angel’s question.

It was a terrifying choice.
Saying 'No' was nigh unthinkable when I was in the presence
of the angel of the Lord of Hosts.
But saying 'Yes' might mean
the end of any marriage,
the loss of a husband,
the certain loss of my reputation and any respect in the village.
What would my parents say?
And how could I begin to parent the Messiah, Emmanuel?
I was totally inexperienced and largely unprepared for motherhood.
It was an awesome responsibility.
God was taking an enormous risk.
I mean, really - I’m not so sure that this was actually such a good plan...
In any case, how could I conceive  and bear a son without a man?

All those thoughts raced through my head as I heard Gabriel's words.
But it was as if God had already pre-empted me -
headed my reasons and rationalisations off at the pass.
He got it: he knew and understood my quandary.
Now I know that seems a silly thing to say, for God knows everything,
even our deepest unspoken thoughts,
but as you can imagine, I was pretty confused.
What clinched it for me was the announcement about Elizabeth's pregnancy.
Now in her sixth month, she was a woman who had despaired
of ever having a child - and yet, her she was... pregnant!
A miracle!
My defences crumbled.
I surrendered to the divine purpose.
God had sought me out.
He would fulfil his promise to his people.
And he would do this, through me...
but it still was my choice.
I chose ‘yes’.

Little did I know then what that 'yes' implied.
Sure, I could foresee the scandal,
hear the gossip,
the pain in my family,
...Joseph's disbelief and rejection.
But as far as Joseph was concerned,
God turned that round, I did not lose him,
although the wedding was a very muted affair.
I was thrilled to visit Elizabeth, to share in her joy and she in mine.
She understood, but strangely, so did the child in her womb -
it was positively leaping about for joy in there.

I was blessed indeed...
However, even though I was truly blessed,
that didn't shield me from danger, or distress, or unexpected joy.
For I didn't foresee the weary road to Bethlehem in my last week of pregnancy;
the birth in the stable;
the angels, the shepherds, and the coming of the wise men.
I was heartened and overjoyed by Simeon's blessing on Jesus in the temple,
but disturbed by his prophetic words:
'A sword would pierce my heart.'
That was unnerving, but, I thought it was fulfilled when we
fled to Egypt and heard of the slaughter of the babes of Bethlehem.
But no, it was not what he’d meant...
he was seeing far further into the future than that,
when my son was no longer a baby, but a grown man...
on a Friday grown dark with shame and blood and pain.
Simeon’s words, and the words of long-ago prophets
ringing out the words of salvation and promised fulfilment
as my son hung bruised and bleeding from the Cross.
I would have given everything to have taken his place -
spared him that pain -
avoided that death...
as he hung there, giving everything for the world.
His agony, my agony, as I watched.

My ‘yes’ to God ending in this - surely, it couldn't be?
But this was not an ending: it was to be a new beginning.
It did not end here on a cross...
My steps led me, one morning, to a garden:
to an empty tomb and new life - resurrection.
While night had fallen,
nevertheless, the sun had also risen...

But all of that was a long time ago, and for now, I ponder that baby -
so small,
tiny,
vulnerable.
God’s fragile gift for the world.
And I am Mary, blessed among women:
'For he that is mighty has magnified me 
and holy is his name.'   Amen.

*I've lost the original version of this, so can't attribute where needed...