Mary’s Story, Mary’s Song

The power of stories and the meaning that they can carry goes unrecognized by some people and denied by others. But I personally believe that the stories that we tell carry persuasive assumptions about the way things work , and what is, and what is not, important. Even those that are not intended to be real tell us, in their own way, what is possible.

I know for sure that if you want to explain or describe something a story is a very good way to do it. Sometimes it is the best way if you have a good story that really fits with the rest of the narrative, but, believe me, you can’t always count on that happening. Sometimes you just get lucky, sometimes you have a stroke of illumination, sometimes it doesn’t work out at all. Anyway, teaching or explanation is just one of the many ways that people use stories. I would go so far as to say that a lot of our lives is occupied with telling stories and listening to them. The stories that are so prevalent in our lives are not just ways to pass the time or entertain. They have meaning and power. They tell us something about the things we take for granted and why we live our lives the way we do. Stories shape our lives and add meaning, direction, energy, and inspiration to them. A Danish author who wrote under the name of Isak Dinesen said: “All sorrows can be borne if you put them into a story of tell a story about them.” (Out of Africa)

We live by stories. We recite creeds, we believe in principles, but we live by stories. Sadly, not all of the stories that shape our lives are positive. One of the most prevalent narratives in American culture is that our success or failure is measured by those things that we collect and own. We are surrounded by by this story, it’s particularly evident this time of year, but it is present all the time. We are kind of trapped; the way things are set up economically now, whether or not some people will have enough work and money to sustain life depends on a healthy economy. And a healthy economy depends to a large extent on the rest of us buying stuff we don’t need! The economy runs almost entirely on advertising, the purpose of which is to convince us to buy things we don’t need. If we really needed them, we wouldn’t have to be told to want them. We just would. But we don’t really need all the stuff. We learn from a very young age that to be a successful person is to be an active consumer. We are captivated and fascinated by the material world because the value of consumerism is presented as self-evident. For reference look at all the advertisements on TV of happy families being happy because they are out in stores getting more stuff. I have noticed this year especially all the commercials about video games like WI which tell you that if you buy it your family will begin to like being together even if they don’t now. The challenge for the manufactures is always that their stories are not true and that’s why they have to work hard and advertise a lot to get each new generation to believe in them. Now, I enjoy many creature comforts and I would not, for one minute, try to tell you that I am immune to the power of this story, but I have to say that I still find it bewildering that so many people think that shopping and buying are fun activities and the successful and happy person is the one with the most stuff. We know in our hearts and with our souls that it isn’t true. We learn, by trial and error if by no other way, that the sustaining meaning of life is not found in the story of good consumerism. Fortunately there are better stories that help us define what it is to be successful. We are a hard working people, and we believe in fairness and in charity. There certainly are stories that contribute good to our culture. But for good or for ill, stories give shape to our identities as Americans.

Family stories, oh, boy! The family stories. In family life, once upon a time at the dinner table, and now more likely, in the car on the way to somewhere, family stories are told and retold and, somehow, they get woven together, and create a family history. This family history, to those who have a sentimental leaning, is always positive and nourishes each member of the family with a sense of security and value which becomes a platform from which to launch individual lives. That does not always happen. Individual family members do learn who they are through their interactions in the family. In a perfect world, everyone would learn that they are precious and capable and entirely loveable. In our broken world, some people learn that they are not smart, or reliable, likeable, or sane, let alone loveable. There are triumphant family stories for the family as a whole and for the individuals in it and there are tragic family stories for the family and for the individuals. A really healthy family would be one where all the stories are told ….out loud…..and then could be tested for reality and fairness. That does not always happen. But for good, or for ill, stories give shape to our identities as members of a family and an individuals.

Churches have stories. I was fortunate enough to have the job of collecting an oral history of a small church in central Illinois. I conducted individual interviews of about 50 members of the church, some of whom had been members for life, and some of whom were relatively new. The interviews were collected on cassette tape (I am very grateful that video was not quite as prevalent then!) and I was surprised and happy that people were willing to take part and, really, eager to share the stories of their church. I was prepared to find a certain commonality to the themes. I was completely unprepared for the unified vision of the church and it’s role in the community that emerged from the interviews. All of these people knew the same stories. Some of them were stories of accomplishment. Some were stories of discord. Some were stories of hardships overcome. Together they created a web of meaning and understanding of who they were as a church and what that meant in the community. Sometimes they shed light on longstanding rifts that no one could quite explain. For good or for ill, stories give shape to our identities as a church.

All of these stories which bind us depend on someone wanting to tell it again and someone else being willing to listen again. Usually this is not a problem, especially at the holidays. Talking about this, the late and much missed Fred Rogers, said: “I like to compare the holiday season with the way a child listens to a favorite story. The pleasure is in the familiar way the story begins, the anticipation of familiar turns it takes, the familiar moments of suspense, and the familiar climax and ending.” This is so sweetly true but there is a danger also, in the familiarity of the Christmas season. Most of us have known the story of Christmas for so long and we have learned the way to respond. We know that it is beautiful and charming and has a baby and nurturing animals. It is tranquil and tame. I am glad we are familiar with it because in this weary world we need it so much. At the same time our familiarity with the story robs us of the recognition that the news that God is coming in the flesh is pretty shocking!

Mary, the Mother of Jesus lived by stories also. Unfortunately we don’t know much about the flesh and blood girl and woman, but we know that she grew up in a group which was very much held together by a shared oral tradition. Most likely she was born into a family of very devout Jews. Their shared history, which they knew by heart, gave them heart in the succession of troubles which was their lot. When Mary was born, their land was occupied by Romans, but , of course, earlier, the Babylonians, Assyrians, Persians, and Greeks had earlier fought over, occupied, and lost to each other this same land. I did a little quick research on the historical time Mary was born into. There were, it seems, three economic classes, the rich, the poor, and the destitute. I think we can assume that Mary’s family would have been poor but not destitute. As rural people in Galilee they would have lived in a family house of stone and mud-brick. Mary would have worked at grinding wheat and barley, cooking, spinning wool and taking care of the family chickens and, maybe, a donkey. Their lives, like the lives of all rural people would have been governed by the seasons and by their religious observances. Galilee was an isolated outpost not visited by many outsiders. The lives of the Jews living there was hard, but self-contained and, in it’s way, sustaining. They all shared and believed in the same stories. They believed that they were the chosen people of God, that God meant for the land they lived on to belong to them only, and that since it did not, God would send a messiah to restore to them their rightful heritage.

There was nothing that we know of that would have made Mary stand out in this setting. If she was devout, she would have just blended in with all the other devout young women. If she lived in a society where men counted for more, she and her mother and aunts and sisters at least had many stories in their sacred writings which showed women acting decisively and courageously on behalf of their people. There is plenty of reason to think that they not only knew these stories but that these stories suggested something about their own power to them. If it was customary for women to defer to their fathers, uncles, and brothers in public it was understood that, if God willed it, women could also bring about change. Big change.

Sarah preserved the lineage for Israel when Abraham was indecisive. Rebekah saw that Jacob, not Esau, was to be the carrier of the promise and she made it happen. Hannah set the stage for Samuel to be the first King of Israel by dedicating him to the temple when he was born. A personal favorite of mine, Judith, frustrated by her generals lack of success, made an end run around them and lopped off their enemy’s head herself. (You will have to look in the Apocrypha, or in the Catholic bible for that story and please feel free to make what you will out of the fact that I like it so much!) Mary was, no doubt, a devout and obedient 15 year old when she was engaged by her parents to Joseph. But as part of her culture she had many stories of powerful women which had to have shaped her sense of the possible.

This is, I admit, conjecture because we don’t really know much about Mary directly from the Bible . Thank goodness Luke preserved and wrote down some traditions about her because she doesn’t appear often in the other gospels. Mark and John skip the birth narrative altogether. In John, Mary appears at the wedding at Cana and not again until the Crucifixion. In Mark, she is only mentioned when she and her other sons and daughters come to get Jesus because they are worried about him and when she does, Jesus seems indifferent to her. In Matthew’s story of the birth the angel appears to Joseph and Mary remains mute throughout the gospel. I think we can assume she was present at the birth but she is as silent as the snow. For his part, Paul thinks it’s worth remembering that God’s Son was “born of a woman,”, but he fails to mention that woman’s name!

Luke remembers Mary’s name and his Mary does not keep silent in our churches. She gets one Sunday anyway and she has something to say.

I would love to have heard this whole story, the entire birth story, from Mary’s lips. The announcement, the fear of disgrace, the wonder at the sight of the angel; the long, unexpected and very poorly timed trek to Bethlehem and then the glorious night. I would love to have heard from her lips just how perfect that baby was in the way that new mothers go on. But of course, we can only imagine it and anyway, I am getting ahead of today’s lesson. ( You will have to come back on Christmas Eve to hear the whole story!) During the reading of the scripture today I read The Annunciation. There we met the Mary we are accustomed to knowing. She was young and inexperienced, barely more than a child. Along with the rest of her community she is waiting for and hoping for the coming of a savior. Her engagement is more than an engagement, really. It was as binding as marriage although there were no marital relations. To have an engagement broken off by the intended groom would have been horribly disgraceful. Matthew tells us that Joseph considered that very thing. To be fair, we have to look at it from his point of view. To find yourself with a young pregnant fiance with whom you have not had relations is more than a little bit of a personal and social problem. He probably felt betrayed and He faced terrible disgrace. But an angel appeared to Joseph and told him not to worry about it. It took courage for Joseph to agree . Just as an aside, his agreement was critical because he, not Mary, was from the House of David and the Messiah (according to prophecy) was to come from the House of David.

In the Annunciation passage Mary is obedient, puzzled, and she must have been a little troubled. She had to be thinking: “Why couldn’t that angel have made a more public appearance?” Maybe some flashes of light and an announcement at the public well, something to take away the ugly stares of the women in the village. Maybe her parents thought it was a good time for an out of town visit to see her cousin Elizabeth. And Elizabeth, who knows something about miracle births, greets her with joy and affirmation. She believes her! She feels in her own body the truth of Mary’s story.

And Mary breaks into this song:

‘My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour, for he has looked with favour 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 ancestors,to Abraham and to his descendants for ever.’ (Luke 1: 46-55)

It is interesting to me that Mary’s song came after the reassurance of Elizabeth. Angelic assurances are always nice, but we need each other. We can get along, if we must, on the assurances of God, but what a joy it is to find it also in the love and respect of those flesh and blood people around us. So it is after Elizabeth embraces her that Mary finds her voice and sings.

And what a song it is! We call it, quite rightly, “The Magnificat” She tells of her Savior who has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Lowliness. The Greek behind our English work is not talking simply about humility, but about poverty. Mary is dirt-poor, with child, and without husband. She is in a mess, but she sings! Why? Because she knows that wretched and poor and lowly as she is, God is raising her up. She knows that she is being used for God’s purpose like Sarah, and Hannah, and Rebekah. Her story is now part of the larger story of unlikely candidates to be the bearers of God’s future.

And Mary sings a song not only about her own salvation but the salvation of all the poor, wretched, and despised. She sings a song of freedom for all who in their trouble still believe that God will make a way out of “no way”. Mary prophesies about a way that is coming out of the wilderness and a power that will scatter the proud thoughts of those who love their power even at the expense of others. She prophesies that the hungry will be filled and the rich relieved of some of their riches.

When Mary sings her song of faith it’s kind of difficult for us to imagine it. How do we imagine that song from our places of power and prestige in the world? But maybe, who knows? Maybe that is what makes us the the unlikely partners for God in this enterprise of grace entering our lives and our world. We have power, status and wealth. Some of us have only loosely formed ideas of faith. Maybe we don’t believe anymore in the promise of a savior. This makes us unlikely by the standards of Mary’s song just as Mary was unlikely by the standards of her community. What is the criteria anyway? Maybe the criteria is being open to things of faith; maybe just being open has the power to include us in the story.

We cannot keep God at arm’s length and expect to be at God’s side. We cannot put conditions, ours or others, on who God would choose to communicate with and expect to hear God’s voice. Being open to faith simply means placing ourselves in God’s presence and among God’s people. It means cultivating an attitude of listening through God’s word, through God’s people, through dreams, through nature, through art or music or drama. We simply cannot place limits on the ways God might come into our or anyone’s life. We don’t know specifically what qualified Mary to be Jesus’ mother. Maybe she was just open to God’s’ intervention in whatever way it happened and that is how she found her place in the sacred story.

When we celebrate the story year after year, we do so in the hope that we will find our place in it. We want to find that this story is not about “remember when” but “still today”. Still today God finds unlikely people who are open. Still today God plants a seed of promise. Still today God fulfills that promise in our lives. Still today.

Pause in these days of expectancy and consider: if you feel like an unlikely bearer of God’s grace it may only mean that you have fulfilled the necessary criteria. It seems to me that God positively loves the unlikely. I can tell you for sure that you have a place in this story if you are open to possibility not limited to our expectations but envisioned by our Creator and creative God.

Will you pray with me please?

God who brings the unexpected gift to the unlikely receiver, be near to us now as we wait for that which we can barely name and yet hope for. Turn our ear and eyes and will toward you. Surprise us with your nearness that we may delight in your coming. Amen.

 

First Congregational United Church of Christ

December 19, 2010

4th Sunday in Advent