Advent 2
December 8, 2024
William G. Carter
But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, ‘Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.’ Mary said to the angel, ‘How can this be, since I am a virgin?’ The angel said to her, ‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.’
A few years ago, I visited the Philadelphia Museum of Art with one of my adult children. We climbed the Rocky steps, paid our admission fee, and proceeded to be overwhelmed. There’s so much to take in: paintings, sculptures, photographs, tapestries, and suits of armor.
But I was there to see one particular piece. It’s a painting by Henry Ossawa Tanner. I had first seen it on a postcard. On a previous visit, it was unavailable for viewing. This time, I made sure it was there. I pitched the case to my daughter. She said, “Sure, let’s find it.” Grabbing a map, we located the painting – in a gallery at the far end of the building. We took a brisk walk. Suddenly, there it was.
Tanner painted our Bible story. It’s called the Annunciation, a portrayal of the Angel Gabriel announcing to Mary that she would bear a son. The painting is large, about six feet wide by five feet tall. As I expected, it stopped us in our tracks.
Gabriel is portrayed as a shaft of light, burning with energy. If you didn’t know the story or the connection to it, the angel would be unrecognizable. By contrast, Mary sits on the edge of her bed. There’s no halo around her head. The young woman wears a peasant’s tunic, a little rumpled. Her head tilts to the left. For me, what makes the painting is the look on her face. Without speaking a word, she says, “What am I getting myself into?”
Now, angels announce. That’s what they do. They appear to declare what God is going to do. Last week, we heard of the angel telling the old priest Zechariah, “Your prayers are answered. Your wife will bear a son.” Today, we hear of the same angel visiting the young maiden, Mary. Gabriel says, “You are also going to bear a son – and you weren’t even praying for this.”
No wonder Henry Ossawa Tanner captures the unspoken response from the young girl, “What am I getting myself into?” The Gospel of Luke says she was perplexed. That’s the polite translation. The more accurate translation would be to say she was totally blown away.
Now, let’s give Gabriel some credit. He doesn’t roll out the news all at once. He comes with a joyful greeting, kind of like a “Good morning!” or a “Happy day!” It’s the same greeting Jesus offers to the women outside the Easter tomb,[1] kind of a mix between “Howdy” and “Hallelujah.” Gabriel says, “It’s a great day!”
Then he goes on: “You are blessed. You are filled with the beauty of God. The Lord be with you!” Rather than say, “and also with you,” she tilts her head, looks at him, and wonders, “What’s this all about? What am I getting myself into?” It’s a good question. She had a lot of good reasons to ask.
Around that time, there was a popular folk tale in Israel. It’s the story of Tobit, a legend that didn’t get into the Bible. The book of Tobit tells about a young woman who was about to be married. On the verge of her wedding night, a jealous angel appears and strikes down her bridegroom. In that popular legend, this happened seven times to seven different bridegrooms. The bride, a woman named Sarah, got tired of an angel appearing before her wedding. If Mary knew the story (and a lot of people knew it), she wouldn’t be too happy about an angel appearing.
She was promised to Joseph. In that time, the marriage would have been arranged by her father. She would live with her parents for a year after the betrothal, until the day would come when Joseph arrived to take her into his home. And here is an angel, appearing to say, “Hail Mary, full of grace!” What was this about?
We rush too quickly into these stories, reaching for their conclusions, and speeding by the certifiable confusion of this young woman. Why is the angel coming to her? What does the angel have up the holy sleeve? What does all this mean? Because angels do not normally show up, much less show up to say, “You’re full of beauty, you’re full of grace, you’re full of blessing.” Come to think of it, nobody ever shows up out of the blue to say, “You’re full of beauty, you’re full of grace, you’re full of blessing.” Not unless they want something!
My teacher Fred Craddock tells of sitting in a diner late one night. He ordered a hot dog and a Coke. While he waits, the door blusters open and an old man takes a seat at the counter. The waitress knows him. She puts down a cup of coffee in front of the man and he says, “You almost done for the night?” The waitress nods toward Fred, as if to say, “He’s my last customer.” The cook brings out the hot dog, she delivers it with the Coke.
The old man says, “Are you closing up soon?” She nods yes. He says, “How about if I walk you home.” She says, “You are not going to walk me home.” He says, “I’m happy to do it.” She said, “No, you will not. If I let you walk me home, soon I will be great with child.” At that, Fred looked up from his hot dog.
The old man said, “What do you mean?” The waitress said, “Haven’t you heard about Sarah?” Sarah who? She said, “Sarah in the Bible.” What about her? “She was old like me, and she conceived a baby.” How did that happen? And the waitress said, “She believed in the man upstairs.” He said, “Well, I could still walk you home.”
The waitress said, “You will not walk me home. Haven’t you heard about Hannah?” Hannah who? “Hannah in the Bible. She could not have a baby, but then she conceived and bore a son.” He said, “How did that happen?” Again: “She believed in the man upstairs.” The man at the counter sat quietly, then said, “I can still walk you home.” At this point, Fred said he had forgotten about his hot dog.
Then the waitress said, “You will not walk me home. I suppose you have heard about Elizabeth.” Elizabeth who? “Elizabeth in the Bible. She was old like me, but she conceived and had a baby.” He said, “How did that happen?” She said, “She believed in the man upstairs.”
He took a slug from his coffee, winked at her, then said, “Well, if I were a woman, I wouldn’t believe in a man upstairs.” Whew, the stories you hear when you step out of church.
Now, no amount of sweet talking will do. Yet it sounds like that is exactly what the angel does. Listen to what the angel sings:
You are going to have a son, Mary.
He is going to be great. He will be the greatest.
People will know him as the Son of the Most High God.
He is going to be king. His kingdom will be forever.
He will sit on his ancestor David’s throne. He will rule over Jacob’s people forever.
With this, she looks at the angel Gabriel and says, “How can this be?” She has a point. The biology does not add up. She is still living in her parent’s house. Her future husband has not come for her yet. The town of Nazareth will not look with favor upon a young woman who becomes pregnant out of wedlock, especially if she has not yet joined with her future husband. It’s not what you do in a Middle Eastern village, where cultural values are reinforced by shame.
And, as you and I know, the angel Gabriel has left a few details out of his announcement. He has not mentioned that Mary’s future son will not only do a lot of good, but he will also face a lot of trouble because of the good that he does. The angel doesn’t tell her the boy will run afoul of the religious authorities. Or that the Roman empire would execute him as a criminal. There is no mention that her son will be betrayed, arrested, abused, whipped, or crucified. That got left out of the Christmas carol; it usually does.
The reason for that is we tend to sing the conclusions, not the stories. Everything Gabriel tells her will be true. Jesus will be the greatest, the Son of the Most High God, the king who rules forever. Yet the angel sings of the end of the story, not the story itself. And we cannot blame him for this. Angels are eternal. They live with God who resides concurrently in past, present, and future, all at the same time.
So, the angel knows ahead of time how the end of the story will turn out. Mary, young Mary, bound to her time and place, can only ask, “How can this be?” It is too big to take in, too enormous to comprehend. In the grand screen of eternity, she cannot see that the whole announcement is about grace.
What is grace? It’s the news that God so loved the world that God sent Jesus into the world. Today we hear about Gabriel coming to Mary. We hear about Mary hearing the news of what’s coming to her – and to the world. Yet the story is not about Gabriel or Mary. It’s about God: God who believes we are redeemable, God who affirms we are forgivable, God who thinks all of us are worthy of love, mercy, justice, and peace.
Gabriel’s Christmas carol today is all about God who decrees the conclusion: that Jesus will be great and will rule over all, that he will rule forever. And it’s about God who is willing to work with us, through us, and in spite of us to accomplish his will by sending us Jesus, first in person, and then through his Holy Spirit.
This is the Gospel, the work of God that reveals the heart of God. And it’s so much to take in. It’s no wonder that Mary asked, “How can this be?” Or that we wonder what we’re getting ourselves into by believing all of it. But this is what I’m telling you today: it’s all Good News. Everything that God is going in Jesus is blessed good news. It’s full of grace. And so are we. Not because of who we are, but because, as Jesus tells us, “God is kind, even to the ungrateful and the wicked.”[2]
That, as they say, is something to sing about.
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