December 18, 2011
(Fourth Sunday of Advent)
(From The Lectionary Page)
Holy Transformation
by The Rev. Canon Susan Sommer
In my early morning perusal of faith-based websites earlier this week, I came upon one of the most arresting contemporary images of Mary of Nazareth. She is depicted holding in one hand a home pregnancy test, while her other hand is clapped over her mouth. Her face registers a range of emotions: astonishment, joy, fear, hope.
If you belong to the sisterhood of motherhood even if your baby now has children of his or her own you probably remember that moment when you learned you were pregnant. In that moment in which you learn the news, everything changes. EVERYthing. It may be the best news ever, the long-awaited answer to prayers. It may be news that has exactly the opposite impact. Either way, such knowledge heralds the beginning of a transformed life. It is a holy time, if "holy" can be defined by mystery, and promise, newness, and extraordinary change. When we are great with child, we handle our emotions differently, we eat differently, we breathe differently, we sleep differently, and we certainly walk differently. We are not who we were. And there's no going back.
Our lessons on this fourth Sunday of Advent are about holy transformation. In 2 Samuel, God gives a message to the prophet Nathan to relay to King David. David is at the pinnacle of his success. He has consolidated the Kingdom and established peace throughout the land. He's built himself a fine house of cedar. And now he wants to do the same for God. Forget this business of the Ark of the Covenant residing in a tent. What is THAT? Surely the God of the great King David deserves a more fitting house than a tent! In the verses immediately preceding our reading for today, God says, in essence, "Thanks but no thanks. I've never lived in a house and I don't intend to start now. But let me tell you what I will do." And then follows what is our lesson for today: a reminder of all that God has done and a promise to raise up a house for David -- not a house made of stone or cedar, but of living flesh. God promises David a dynasty which will be established forever.
Imagine how this must have sounded, centuries later, to people whose kingdom had been overthrown by the Babylonians! To people dwelling in Exile, this was a reminder of the most profound hope. Theirs was a God of mystery and promise, newness, and extraordinary change. Today's Old Testament reading actually is the foundation for centuries of longing for the promised Messiah. And yet the message is clear: God alone is the true monarch, the one who transforms all earthly notions of kingly power and influence.
And that is what makes our Gospel passage today so earth shattering. How will the house and kingdom of David be made sure forever? Who will be the source of this dynasty? Who will be God's partner in this enterprise of salvation for all of God's people? Who will bear the Son of the Most High? A young girl living in an obscure town in Galilee. In an act that redefined kingship and power, that put a subversive spin on all earthly notions of royalty, God sent the angel Gabriel to enlist the aid of Mary of Nazareth.
That Mary took a risk in saying yes is an understatement. She was betrothed, meaning that her pregnancy would imply that she had committed adultery. The penalty for that transgression was death by stoning at the hands of ones fiancι and his family. And even if they were merciful, her future would likely be bleak. The engagement would likely be broken off, but her dowry kept by Joseph's family as recompense for his shame. Very few men at that time would choose to marry a woman without a dowry. There was no place in 1st century Jewish society for an unmarried adult woman with or without a child. She could go live with a brother (assuming she had one), but her status and that of her child in that family would be precarious at best. So we cannot underscore enough the risk that this remarkable woman took. She has a great deal to teach the Church about courageously, faithfully, assenting to partnership with God, come whence it may, cost what it will.
But Mary has something else to teach us as well. And it, too, has to do with transformation. It has to do with the way in which we allow God to re-arrange us from the inside out. Anyone who has ever borne a child can attest to how pregnancy physically transforms your body. But the lasting transformation is the one that happens to all parents fathers as well as mothers, adoptive and foster parents as well as biological parents. What gets transformed is that our very lives no longer belong to ourselves alone. We are not who we were. And there is no going back.
When we are serious about inviting Christ into our lives -- when God builds a house within us, in essence -- the whole of our being becomes redefined. Reality for us is transformed apart from, perhaps even in spite of, our own efforts. It is no small thing to invite Christ to dwell within us. He changes our lives. He stretches our contours and makes us perhaps a bit uncomfortable from time to time. His presence in our lives should change the way that we walk. He spreads our ribs and crowds our hearts with his holy presence. We live no longer for ourselves. We are not who we were. And there is no going back.
We begin the final week of Advent, of preparing for the Coming of Christ. Today we hear the story of the Annunciation of Gabriel to Mary. A week from today, we will hear of the birth. We stand today, as it were, with Mary and her home pregnancy test in that awe-filled holy time of expectation, of Already and Not-yet. As Mother Carol put it so beautifully in her sermon last week, The Prince of Peace does not come to us from the outside in, but comes to our awareness from within and among us where He already dwells. May we rejoice in his holy presence, tabernacled within us, and may we say with Mary the ancient words of praise, My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my savior.
