I'm willing to bet that,
for almost all of you, this is the first time you have heard the whole of the
birth stories of John the Baptist and Jesus read in one sitting.
It is an extraordinary
tale of visitations by angels and miraculous births, of daring dreams
proclaimed has having come true, and of the Holy Spirit, in the words of
another Gospel writer, John, like the wind, blowing wherever it wills.
In reading the Gospels
it is important to remember that they were written, as it were,
“backwards.” They are not the result of
dictation by someone who followed Jesus around, rather they are interpretation
of Jesus’ life and death looking back from a post-Easter perspective. Each
looks back, moreover, from a different reference point.
It is one reason why the
birth stories in Luke and Matthew are so different. Matthew looks back to Jesus birth with the
reference point of Good Friday. This
child was the child born to die for the salvation of the whole world. Some have
called Matthew’s birth, which we will hear next Sunday, the “dark side” of
Christmas.
Luke has an entirely
different reference point for looking back.
It is Pentecost, the experience of the Holy Spirit as the gift poured
out on all flesh, the Spirit that creates a community of followers of the way
of Jesus who become known as “those people who turn the world upside down”
(Acts 17:6).
Here, at the beginning
of his tale, Luke has already begun this theme.
As the Holy Spirit touches the lives of people in this story—Elizabeth,
Zechariah, Mary, Simeon—their world is upended.
Nothing is left the way it was, nor ever will be again.
Perhaps the pivotal line
in the whole story is uttered by the angel Gabriel to Mary, while sending her
to her cousin Elizabeth, for a meeting of two extraordinary women who for all
generations will testify to the world that "nothing will be impossible with
God."
There is something very
important in those words, something that hinges on the English word "with,"
which in Greek is the preposition παρα (para).
In Greek para is the preposition indicating “alongside of,” or
“beside.” So Gabriel does not say
"nothing will be impossible for God," but, "nothing will
be impossible with God or, literally, “alongside of" God.
It is tempting to hear
these stories about the intervention of God in these folks’ lives and
understand them to be examples of the kinds of things that can happen when God
takes over a situation, does things "for," or even "to"
people.
In one sense this is
precisely the God we long for, the God who can do something “for” or “to” us,
when we ask him to do so. We do not necessarily want the kind of uninvited
visitations Zechariah and Mary receive, and the giving of new burdens or
responsibilities they bring.
In his storytelling,
Luke wants us to make it clear that this is not the kind of God we get. We get the God of unexpected visitation. God keeps his own calendar and plays it as
close to his chest as the best card shark.
The unexpected
visitation, however, is not for the purpose of doing something “to” us or “for”
us. It is for the purpose of doing
something “with" us, alongside us.
So strong is this sense of “with” that these stories more than hint that
in order to act in these situations God needs the cooperation of the
human characters.
God needs Mary, needs
her cooperation, needs from her something he does not have—human flesh and
human freedom, the freedom to participate or not, to love or not, to hope or
not.
The world often seems to
us that it is in such a mess that only God can save it. Well, no, actually, Luke says in these
stories. The world is in such a mess
that only God and humanity, the Creator and the creature, can save it together,
by their companionship in faith, hope, and love.
It is this very
cooperation, participation, companionship that God wishes with us, for we are
not fundamentally different from the characters in these stories nor is the
desire of God for us any different than it was for them. The desire is for a partnership of grace,
that can bring new things out of old, change the world, raise us up to sing
Mary's song about herself and her world about ourselves and our world.
From this day all
generations will call me blessed. The
Almighty has done great things for me.
He has scattered the proud and lifted up the lowly.
What does this mean in
our lives today? How does it begin, this working “alongside of” God?
One thing that gets said
over and over again in these stories by the visiting angels is, "Do not be
afraid." The interior conversation
that goes on in each of the characters does not get directly recorded, but in
each one it involves a choice. Shall I
respond with fear or not?
Zechariah chooses fear. We can identify with that, can't we? He is muted, which is not so much a
punishment as it is the natural result of his fear. It is what happens to us as well, is it not,
when we choose to be anxious and afraid?
Does not our anxiety and fear often cause to say “no” to love?
And Zechariah's tongue
is loosed when he dares to cooperate with God.
He writes, “His name is John.”
That represents his conscious choice to be God’s partner in a new
endeavor, upending the world of his privilege and his credentials, his
ancestry, the letting loose of a new power in his life and in the world.
This is one important
thing that the Christmas message is all about—a new partnership formed between
us and God, the result of which is the fulfillment of the message of the
angels: Glory for God, peace for us.
Peace is impossible for
us to bring about on our own, either in our own hearts or in our world. If it were possible we would have done it
long ago. Likewise, peace is impossible
for God to bring about on God's own, again, either in our own hearts or in our
world. If it were possible for God to do
alone, he would have done it long ago.
Peace in our own hearts
and in our world is only possible with God, in the partnership of our
saying “no” to fear and “yes” to hope and a new, different possibility and
allowing God the Holy Spirit to bring to birth in us our own salvation, as she
did in Elizabeth and Mary long ago.
How do we begin? It is in our daily lives as simple as heeding
the words from a favorite Christmas carol.
O hush the noise, and
cease your strife, and hear the angels sing.[1]
[1] From “It came upon a
midnight clear,” words by Edmund H. Sears (1810-1876). Found in The
Hymnal 1982 at # 89 and #90.
No comments:
Post a Comment