Mary Was a Radical

“We are all meant to be mothers of God … for God is always needing to be born” – Meister Eckheart, 13^th century German philosopher, theologian and mystic.

Imagine a picture or image you have seen of Mary.  Chances are you are picturing a demure woman with downcast eyes and a serene expression.  Likely she is draped in blue or white with a gentle illumination around her head.  Now I want you to take this picture and tear it into little pieces so that we can consider Mary with new eyes, fresh eyes. 

We often present a very wrong picture of Mary a picture that portrays her as passive, blindly obedient and her YES to God as something sweet, small and feeble.

I recently heard an interview with a woman who is in currently in divinity school.  One of her classes, from a womanist perspective, suggested that one might apply a hermeneutic[1] of suspicion when reading scripture.  Why would we consider scripture with suspicion?  We might consider the layer after layer of understanding and misunderstanding that has distorted the stories.  We might consider the message we read with modern eyes might not be the message received in a culture 2000 years ago.  We might consider that scripture was written by men, for men and about men with women and women’s experience being pointedly excluded. 

Let’s look at the story:

²⁶ In the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, ²⁷ to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. ²⁸ The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”

²⁹ Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be.³⁰ But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. ³¹ You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. ³² He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David,³³ and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever; his kingdom will never end.”

³⁴ “How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?”

³⁵ The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most Highwill overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called^[b] the Son of God. ³⁶ Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be unable to conceive is in her sixth month. ³⁷ For no word from God will ever fail.”

³⁸ “I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.” Then the angel left her.

One thing to note that the pattern of this encounter follows a traditional call narrative that follows the same arc as the call narrative to Moses as well as to Isaiah when they were called by God to speak and act prophetically.[2]  This would have been recognized by those who first heard and responded to this passage.

Mary’s responses to the Angel Gabriel are not powerful and confident, she says yes to God, but you can hear the reticence in her response.  We are told she is troubled and by his words, she questions how his prediction is even possible and her acceptance does not sound like those of excitement “I am the Lord’s servant, May your word to me be fulfilled”

Mary reminds us of what it looks like and sounds like when God shows up in your life – unannounced, unexpected, unplanned and maybe even unwanted.  The annunciation to Mary helps us remember that God becoming human should always unsettle and upset.

With her YES to God Mary faced an uncertain future.  Her yes meant that she would find herself pregnant and unmarried in an ancient culture where coercive control of female sexuality was a primary measure of masculine honor.  She could expect shaming, retribution or even stoning  as her pregnancy came to the awareness of her family and community. 

I want to take us past the lectionary, because I don’t think you get the full measure of Mary’s story if you end here. The angel, as part of his proclamation, told Mary that “Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be unable to conceive is in her sixth month. ³⁷ For no word from God will ever fail.”

So Mary goes to another woman, an older, wiser family member who has also experienced a miraculous conception.  Elizabeth greets mary with honor and in doing so overturns social expectations.  Mary is an unmarried pregnant girl, she could expect social judgment, shame ostracism from her older kinswoman, instead she receives honor and praise. 

³⁹ At that time Mary got ready and hurried to a town in the hill country of Judea, ⁴⁰ where she entered Zechariah’s home and greeted Elizabeth. ⁴¹ When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the baby leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. ⁴² In a loud voice she exclaimed: “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! ⁴³ But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? ⁴⁴ As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. ⁴⁵ Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!”

Mary needs community, relationship, guidance.  It isn’t the angel that gives her strength and confidence and power, it is Elizabeth that inspires Mary to step into a place where she can voice the Magnificat.

I am about to read Mary’s song, the first advent hymn, the first Christmas carol and it is full of defiance and protest and fire.  This is a protest song calling passionately for justice.  This is a dangerous passage, so dangerous that on at least three different occasions it was banned from being sung recited or displayed:

During the British colonial rule of India it was prohibited from being sung in church.  The caste system had been exploited by the British presence as a way to control the population and the Magnificat challenged that system.

The Magnificat was banned in Argentina in the 1970’s after the Mothers of the Disappeared used it to call for nonviolent resistance to the ruling military junta.

During the 1980’s the government of of Guatemala banned its public recitation. 

Here is the Magnificat:

⁴⁶ And Mary said:

“My soul glorifies the Lord
⁴⁷     and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
⁴⁸ for he has been mindful
    of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
⁴⁹     for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
    holy is his name.
⁵⁰ His mercy extends to those who fear him,
    from generation to generation.
⁵¹ He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
    he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
⁵² He has brought down rulers from their thrones
    but has lifted up the humble.
⁵³ He has filled the hungry with good things
    but has sent the rich away empty.
⁵⁴ He has helped his servant Israel,
    remembering to be merciful
⁵⁵ to Abraham and his descendants forever,
    just as he promised our ancestors.”

⁵⁶ Mary stayed with Elizabeth for about three months and then returned home.

Just like Mary, sometimes we are called to wait and allow for God to grow in us.  Sometimes it’s hard not to be worried that fruition is not RIGHT NOW!  Sometimes this is serene waiting and sometimes it is patient angry waiting. 

Perhaps there’s something here that we should look into.  The Magnificat hasn’t been banned, we can speak it, post it, sing it.  But maybe it is just rattled off without thought or passion.  What we sometimes do is give it a totally ‘spiritual meaning’ and in doing so cut it off at the knees.  The tendency to spiritualize problems in this world right here, right now is a constant temptation faced by religious people.  It can actually be a way of not having to deal with them.  It is easy to pray for the sick and the poor and then head to our warm beds in our warm houses with our bellies full of food.  It is also easy to write sermons about the injustices of the world and then be unwilling to put effort and energy into fixing the very real problems that are rife within our own communities.  Because of this we must all build our own capacity to sing for justice as Mary did, sing in preparation for doing, for action. 

I have brought a “Modern Magnificat” written by Fred Kaan[3] that is sung to the tune of O Tannenbaum (Oh Christmas Tree) so that we can practice raising our voices for justice:

Sing we a song of high revolt;

make great the Lord, his name exalt!

Sing we the song that Mary sang

of God at war with human wrong.

Sing we of him who deeply cares

and still with us our burden bears.

He who with strength the proud disowns,

brings down the mighty from their thrones.

By him the poor are lifted up;

he satisfies with bread and cup

the hungry ones of many lands;

the rich must go with empty hands.

He calls us to revolt and fight

with him for what is just and right,

to sing and live Magnificat

in crowded street and council flat.

In these passages Mary has gone from young girl to prophet, from Mary to mother of God. This is the transition from Advent to Christmas.  Mary’s story moves us all from who we think we are to who God has called us to be.

Reverend Carolyn Sharp says “Don’t envision Mary as the radiant woman peacefully composing the Magnificat.  Instead see her as a girl who sings defiantly to her God through tears, fists clenched against an unknown future.  When we do this Mary’s courageous song of praise becomes a radical resource for those seeking to honor the holy amid the suffering and conflicts of real life.”

So I end as I began, with Meister Eckhart’s words:  “We are all meant to be mothers of God, for God is always needing to be born.”

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[1] Definition of Hermeneutic:  a method or principle of interpretation  

·       a philosophical hermeneutic

[2] Call narrative:  Greeting 28, startled reaction 29, exhortation not to fear 30, divine commission 31-33, objection 34, reassurances 35, offer of confirming signs 36-37

[3] Fred Kaan (1929-2009) was a prolific hymn writer and it was only after I gave this sermon that I realized he has eight hymns in Community of Christ Sings including two of my favorites:  210 The Love of God and 309 Put Peace into Each Other’s Hands.  He was born in Holland and lived through the Nazi occupation, seeing three of his grandparents die from starvation in this time.  His family was part of the Dutch resistance and sheltered a young Jewish woman in their home for two and a half years.  After the war he became an ardent pacifist and entered the ministry, these influences can be seen in his beautifully worded hymns.

Peace Be With You

As I sat down to write this talk, a talk centered on a message of peace, my kids were all occupied and I was ready to dedicate some uninterrupted time to hashing out my thoughts.  It was at just that moment that I heard a crash, a splash and a wail from the other room.  I ran to the kitchen to find that Stephan, age 3, had pushed Emily, age 1 ½ off her chair and then dumped an entire gallon of milk over her head.  I really should be asked to share my thoughts on a topic I am expert in: chaos, rather than one I have so little experience in: peace.  

John 20: 19-31

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.”  After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side.  Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.  Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you.  As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”  When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.  If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, came not with them when Jesus came.  So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.”  But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

A week later his disciples were again in the house and Thomas was with them.  Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.”  Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands.  Reach out your hand and put it in my side.  Do not doubt but believe.”  Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me?  Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

The message of Jesus before ascending to his father was not one of guilt or shame, but:

Peace be with you.

The message of Jesus after experiencing betrayal and derision  was not of anger or retribution against those who had wronged him, but:

Peace be with you.

The message of Jesus when facing both those who believed and those who doubted was not of judgment or ridicule, but:

Peace be with you

Three times in two visits Jesus offered peace.  Personally, I find it more difficult than it should be to take him at his word.  It is easy to be critical of ourselves and others, to fall into patterns of guilt or anger,  of judgment.and censure.

I  grew up seeing a painting of Christ in red robes knocking on a door with no doorknob.  The lesson along with the painting goes something like this  “ Jesus is always there ready to enter our lives, but we must be the one to open the door.  We do this by having faith, by following the commandments, by repenting.”  In contrast, both times Jesus came to the disciples the door was shut against him, even so he entered and spoke of peace.

He came willingly to those who believed and those who doubted.  He didn’t withhold blessings from Thomas who said “Unless I feel the wounds in his body, I will not believe.”  Instead, he came to Thomas and offered his body as a living testimony of God.  He followed this by saying that those who come to believe without that physical evidence are also blessed.  He doesn’t say they are more blessed, just that they are also blessed.  

There are times in my life when I have been able to simply say “I believe!”  and times when I say “I can’t believe unless I feel the nail prints in his hands and the wounds in his side.”  

My third born child was born healthy and strong.  It wasn’t until she was a several weeks old we suspected there was anything wrong.  At three months old she was diagnosed with a condition called Spinal Muscular Atrophy, which we were told was terminal.  There was no treatment, no medication, no cure and babies diagnosed with this condition usually died before their first birthday.   

The news was devastating in a way I had never known before, and yet in the midst of that deep, deep grief, I felt God with me.  I felt his presence so strong that it was almost as if I turned around fast enough, I might see him.  The poem Footprints in the Sand resonated deeply with me.  I knew there were angels thick in my daughter’s presence and since I was always with her, in my presence as well.  

It was a difficult, yet beautiful four years.

Not long after she died, I realized that the feeling of being carried had receded and I was left in an ordinary space once again. It was that much more difficult to be back in that ordinary space, having experienced God so close.

Many years later, We conceived another daughter, Tabitha.  Through prenatal testing we learned that she would have the same genetic defect that Taleah had and we would once again be faced with the youthful death of a daughter.  As before, I was devastated, but the bright spot was the anticipation of that tangible  closeness with God  I just assumed would accompany her, as it had Taleah.  

Tabitha was born and yet that exquisite feeling of God ever present did not return.

I wanted it, I needed it, but it wasn’t there.  I had heard enough times that “If the communication between God and you is not working, you know exactly whose side the problem is on.”  So I looked for the deficiency in myself.  I prayed more, I read scriptures more, I obeyed more and nothing changed, in fact I became more and more frustrated that I couldn’t break through.  It was like I had cotton in my ears and everything that might have possibly been God came through sounding more like the grown ups in Charlie Brown cartoons.

It was as if  I was following a clearly marked path and people told me just follow the path, this  path and you’ll get there. For a long while I followed the path, proud of my progress, satisfied with my journey, excited for what lay ahead.  Until one day,  I turned a corner and found  that my way was blocked by a  wall.  The wall was thick, the wall was high, the wall was solid.  I explored the wall and found no hidden opening, no secret door.    I saw other people walk easily through the wall and so I also tried walking through it.  Unlike those before me, I ran right into the solid, impenetrable surface.  I backed up and tried again … and again.  Each attempt left me bruised, injured and discouraged.  I tried many times and in many ways.  

Eventually I was exhausted, broken with the effort.  I felt empty and alone.  With deep despair, I stepped off the path,  faced the void and asked the question I hadn’t been able to bring myself to consider:  “What if there is no God.”

The void is a dark and lonely place.  It is cold and disorienting.  I felt lost and off balance.  Even so, I began to walk. My thinking shifts from actions only being worthwhile as a means to an eternal reward to actions being worthwhile in enhancing THIS experience and the experiences of those I share life with.  It is worthwhile to meditate because it brings peace.  It is worthwhile to offer food because people are hungry, it is worthwhile to develop relationships because it creates support.  I discovered, to my amazement, that God is also in the void.  

A candle shines brightest in the darkness.  We can stand together with others who hold candles just like ours and enjoy the brightness of a well lit room, but how much difference does one candle among many make.  It isn’t until we step into the darkness and seek out those who are in need that we learn how beautiful that light really is.  Finding those in the darkness is not about insisting they find light in the same way that we did, it is about sharing our light and allowing them to discover their own.  

It is okay to say, as Thomas said:  “Unless I see the marks of the nails in his hands and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”  I put my fingers in the marks of the nails by reaching out to others.  I test the evidence of Jesus Christ by caring for others in times of need.  I thrust my hand in his side by joining with a community of faith.  

So let me end by repeating what Jesus said:

Peace be with you.

Peace be with you.

Peace be with you