Mary, Mother of God 1998 | Advent 4 | Luke 1: 26-56

Most of you know my wife, Kate. Kate is an outspoken person. Kate is someone with whom you probably do not want to get in an argument. If you don't know her that well, you might be saying, "Why is that? Is she belligerent? Is she pushy?" and the answer to those is no (not usually). The fact is that you don't want to get into a verbal sparring match with Kate because YOU WILL LOSE. I speak from many years of hard-won experience. My experience, I should say, is hard one; I've almost never won an argument. Even, darn it all, when I was RIGHT. Now there's very good reason for this: She's good. She's really, really good. She's smarter than many people I know, and a very skilled debater. Unfortunately, she has only come to appreciate these skills as an adult. As a teenager, she says, she had no inkling of the awesome powers she possesses.

Once, when she was in high school, a friend invited her to try out for the debate team. Her friend, obviously, was aware of Kate's skill, but Kate felt inadequate. She was not given much encouragement as a youngster to shine in a public kind of way, and she doubted her ability to make the grade. So, after some days of agonizing over it, she finally declined.

Now, I see her reticence to go forth and conquer the debate squad to be an event of cosmic proportions. She was given an opportunity to fully realize herself, to "give birth" in a way to her creativity, her power; to bring forth from herself the great gift which God had instilled in her from her birth. And she chickened out. Now, was this fear a moral failing? Not for her, but for those who instilled in her an attitude of self-doubt and fear? Them I do hold responsible.

What would have been the outcome if she had had the courage to say "Yes!" to her friend? She would no doubt have been the shining star of the debate team, she might have gone on to win regional, state, or even national awards. More importantly, she might very well be a lawyer today, and we would be out of debt! But when I start thinking like this, I also need to remind myself that had Kate gone this route, she may well have acquired a larger arsenal of verbal tricks, so that I might NEVER win an argument. I suppose I should count me blessings for that, folks, but it still makes me sad that all of that potential wrapped up in that little teenager was squashed by her own fear. Fear which was instilled in her because, no doubt, people saw how powerful a person Kate was, and were afraid of her.

It is at this time of year that we are reminded of the story of another teenager, who by all rights, should have chickened out. The New Testament tells us that her name was Mary, and that she was visited by an angel, who gave her the opportunity to bring forth from herself something awesome and profound.

"Do not be afraid, Mary," said the angel, "For you have found favor with God. Look, you will conceive and bar a son, and you shall call his name 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 father David."

Now, remember, Mary is just a little girl. She must have jumped out of her skin! Not only because some ghostly apparition was making an appearance in her bedroom, but because she is being told that she, some nameless peasant girl who isn't even married, is going to give birth - and to a King, no less!

Who among us would have blamed her if she had just said, "Uh, you know, that's a bit too much for me. Could you ask someone else?" I mean, who knows, maybe God DID ask someone else first, and they said "I'll pass." Maybe Mary was God's SECOND choice! We'll never know, will we? But the point is that Mary, who had every right to be scared silly, Mary who had every right to "just say NO," didn't. Instead, this little ball of chutzpah said, "I've never even kissed a man. How do you plan to pull it off, anyway?"

And when Gabriel had explained it to her satisfaction, she thought a minute and spoke, "Look, God, I'm your servant. If you want this, I want this."

Notice that God didn't ask anybody else's permission. Not her father's, not her mother's, and not the Mayor's or the King's. God didn't check to see if it would inconvenience anybody, or even ask if it was okay with Joseph. The only one God asked was HER, because her answer was the only one that mattered.

Her father, of course, would have killed her, perhaps literally, for having sex out of wedlock. Her mother, if her mother had believed her, probably would have told her to decline, after all; she was only a peasant girl, and had no right to give herself airs, going around birthing royalty. The King would have killed her, since she posed a threat to is throne, and Joseph, well we know what Joseph wanted to do: break off the engagement.

But God didn't really care what any of them thought. God only cared about one thing: Mary's feelings. "My child is going to be born. Would you like to be his mother?" was all God was asking, and a peasant girl with no pretensions to power, or designs on dominion, against all odds, had the courage to defy her parents, her governmental system and her sociological standing, by simply saying "yes."

"YES!" said this teenager, "I will give birth to God."

Now think about the profundity of this notion. "Yes, I will give birth to God." What nerve! And yet, by her simple act of saying "yes" the die was cast, and giving birth to God is exactly what she did. Centuries after her death, Christians even began calling her "theotokos" or "God-bearer," "God-birther." Quite a profound title for a little peasant girl.

And to some Christians' way of thinking, too profound. Nestorius, a bishop who was later condemned for heresy himself, declared the title heretical, and in the fifth century called the issue before a council of bishops. He thought the title of "God-birther" too presumptuous, and instead suggested "Christokos" or "Christ-birther" instead. Needless to say, the idea was not a hit. The streets teemed with anxiety and rage as the bishops debated. Finally, the council at Ephesus in 431 reached a decision. Mary was to be hailed as "Theotokos," God-birther, the mother of God.

Carol Lynn Pearson in her awesome one-woman play "Mother Wove the Morning" remembers the decision through the eyes of a woman who lived in Ephesus. "You have not heard?" She says,

Oh, you should have been here this morning! When the bishop said the words, oh, I will never forget - "I has been decreed, you may worship Mary as the Mother of God" - oh, we were transported with joy! We kissed the hands of the clergy! In all the city of Ephesus there was singing and dancing! My husband danced like a child! Men need their Mother too, you know. But women, oh, we need her most especially." (Mother Wove the Morning, p. 55)

And why do women need her? One reason certainly has to do with the necessity for women to see themselves reflected in divinity. But another reason, and perhaps one more palatable for Protestants, is that women need her example.

What if Kate, standing on the brink of bringing forth her essential self, of giving birth to her own creativity and divinity, what if she had been told, like Mary was, "Do not be afraid"? What if Kate had been told, "You are not presumptuous; you have found favor with God?" What if Kate had been encouraged that God had something grand in mind for her?

Most of us are a little cowed by greatness. Most of us do not feel like we are worthy of praise, or power. And certainly most of us would be a little daunted by the prospect of giving birth to God. The men in the congregation are probably saying, "well, at least I don't have to worry about THAT one." But that is not true. Childbirth is just one of the very many ways that human beings give birth. Men as well as women are creative beings, and pro-creative beings. Men as well as women bring forth divinity whenever we write a poem, or a play, or a song, or design a building, or guide a child in the way he or she should go. We are all called to give birth to God, every bit as much as Mary was, but it is usually our fear that stops us. "I'm not good enough," "Or I'm not talented enough" or "They'll think I'm being stuck-up or presumptuous," we say. But we are wrong.

In his inaugural speech, South African President Nelson Mandela said, "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you, not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

A little girl in Nazareth nearly 2000 years ago said, "Yes" to God, and in doing so, she gives us the courage to do the same. Can you claim that courage for yourself? Can you claim the right to call yourself, "Theotokos", "God-birther?" I dare you to try.

For a teenage girl has given birth to God. And the world will never be the same again.

Let us pray.

Holy and life-giving God,
You call us everyday to profound and courageous acts
And we fumble with our shirt-tails
and mumble about our inadequacy for the job.
Help us to learn from the example of one little girl,
Who had the courage to say "Yes" to you
Who brought forth from her depths
a light that would spark and enflame the world.
Help us to tend that flame within ourselves
Bringing forth the Christ in our daily lives
In little and profound ways,
Faithful to your call to bring light to the world.
For we ask this in the name of the God
who was carried by us, brought forth from us,
and who shines like a beacon before all nations,
even Jesus Christ. Amen.