Fourth Sunday of Advent
Far too often in our world we see images of people mourning tragic events, acts of terrorism, natural disasters, local tragedies and dark events. Usually in mourning these events we find people lighting candles that emphasize that light has more right to exist in our world than darkness. This is also the message of our Advent wreath as we light the last of four candles on the wreath. These candles will eventually be extinguished and so it will be up to us, disciples of Christ, to remind the world that light has more right to exist in our world than darkness.
The first reading on this last Sunday of Advent comes from the second Book of Samuel. It tells the story of King David who after having spent a great deal of his life battling Israel’s enemies is finally given rest from his duty. It was possibly the best days in the life of David. He was the King of Israel. His nation was united and at peace. David was enjoying a time of rest, after all the problems that he had been forced to endure. For David, the period was a time to meditate and reflect on the blessings and the grace of God. As David meditated on the Lord and the Law, a dream was born in his heart. He wanted to build God a permanent dwelling place.
As a sign of gratitude for God’s blessings David wanted to build a house to the Lord. But God did not want it. Settling down says the prophet Nathan is not characteristic of Israel’s God. The God of Israel is a free, exodus God, who prefers to move among his people, pitching his tent were he pleases. God desires not to dwell in a house of Cedar but in the human heart.
At first glance, what David wants to do seems well intentioned. God has done so much for him, why shouldn't he do something for God? But God does not want David focusing on a grand and glorious building project. But God was concerned about something else. A temple was a sign that God was present, that God had sanctioned and specially blessed this nation, this dynasty, and this political structure. A temple was a way of laying claim to God's blessing, and sanction, and presence, a way of saying, "God is here, in this place, smiling on us." It was also exclusionary—a way of saying God is here but not there.
There are certain biblical stories that have become so familiar to us, and whose message seems so obvious to us that they have lost their ability to sock us or leave us in awe. I can think of the Sermon on the Mount, especially the Beatitudes and our Lord’s teaching regarding anger and forgiveness. Today’s gospel is one of those stories. In some ways the entire story surrounding our Lord’s birth have either been so romanticized or have become so familiar that we are not longer left spell bound by them. When they are told our initial reaction is to say I know the story well. But as we hear these stories read to us in the Liturgy in the coming days try to listen to them with fresh ears. If we do so what we will discover is just how awesome God is.
Our gospel for today opens with these words: “The Angel Gabriel was sent from God to a town of Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man name Joseph, of the house of David and the virgin’s name was Mary.” The region of Galilee was on the fringes of the Roman Empire, both geographically and politically. The region was something of a backwater as well as a troublesome place. Many revolutionary movements started in Galilee. To the Roman government and the religious hierarchy in Jerusalem, the people in Galilee were suspect. They struggled for freedom and were cruelly oppressed.
Nazareth was not any better. Biblical Scholars estimate that anywhere from two to four hundred people lived there in Jesus’ day. Those from Nazareth lived in a backwater of a backwater. The seemingly insignificance of the town led Nathanael to ask, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” The fact that the word of God would be spoken in an out of the way place and take root in an unknown girl would have seemed like a joke.
We live in a world that places a high premium on the extraordinary, but God’s choice of Nazareth and Mary is a reminder that God sees great value in the ordinary and seemingly simple. The choice of Mary and Nazareth reveals a theme that is common in the scriptures: the reversal of expectations, the little giving rise to the great, the tiny and insignificant as being the place where God’s presence is revealed.
Gabriel says to Mary: “Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you.” Matthew tells us that Mary was troubled by Gabriel’s greeting and wondered what it all meant. Mary was living quietly in a village of Galilee, far from the movers and shakers of her world, and yet she is the recipient of some amazing and stunning words from God! When Gabriel announces his incredible news Mary’s reaction isn’t just meek submission. She doubts. She questions. Faith is not the absence of doubt or even questioning.
When Gabriel tells Mary that she will bear a son, Mary asks, “How can his be?” Her response is understandable. Mary had every reason to be troubled; she was living in a society where a child out of wedlock would have been considered a serious dishonor. But Mary’s words are also a plea. She was asking Gabriel to help her understand how she is to live under the weight of the way in which God’s favor will be expressed in her life.
My friends, how often have that question been put to God; “How can this be?” It is a question posed by anyone who has tried to live out the demands of faith, wondered how they could possibly live up to what God requires. The question is posed by people who have been blindsided by events we never expected – a twist on life’s path that we never saw coming, for better or for worse.
To Gabriel’s startling message Mary says “Behold I am the handmaid of the Lord, let it be done to me according to your word.” Mary would discover that faith in the words of Pope Benedict is “not a triumphal march but a journey marked daily by suffering and love, trials and faithfulness.” We should not make the mistake of thinking that Mary’s ‘fiat’ at the annunciation meant she fully understood the significance of her son’s life. She must have reasserted that ‘Yes’ on many occasions. Did she have any idea as to what her yes would entail concretely? That by saying yes to Gabriel the implications would be profound; things like birth in stable, massacre of the innocents, having to flee to Egypt to protect her Son, could she have known that by saying yes she was agreeing to unspeakable sorrow by having to stand at the foot of the cross and watch her Son endure unimaginable suffering. But at the key moment Mary said yes. Not knowing it all, she said yes.
Pope Benedict in his reflection on Mary’s encounter with Gabriel says that it is important to focus on the final sentence in Luke’s telling of the story. It ends with these stark words: “Then the angel departed from her.” He says, “The great hour of Mary’s encounter with God’s messenger–in which her whole life is changed–comes to an end, and she remains there alone, with a task that truly surpasses all human capacity.” It’s a haunting image: a girl with the burden of history on her slender shoulders, asked to believe a message that seemed utterly impossible. Gabriel drops a spiritual bomb and then just leaves. It would be Gabriel’s greeting that would strengthen Mary, and to which she would have to return constantly: “The Lord is with you.”
My friends, Mary’s example encourages us to trust, to inspire us to hope, to offer us the faith-filled reassurance that our lives are not lived in isolation. To all who might feel alone or lonely, to all who might feel helpless or hopeless, to those who might be worried or frightened about the future, Gabriel’s reassuring words are meant for us: “The Lord is with you.”
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A number of Biblical Commentaries and other works were consulted in developing this homily. Works include Fr. Robert Barron, Diane Bergant, Homiletic and Pastoral Review, Preacher Exchange, Liturgy@ Slu.edu and other sources.
