The sermon study guide is here.
Luke 1:26-38
November 26/27, 2011 • Portage First UMC
When I was growing up, one thing you could count on every year about this time was the church Christmas pageant, the annual re-enactment of the first Christmas. It usually involves children in bathrobes playing the various parts, and of course, the coveted part, at least for the girls, is Mary. I mean, let’s be honest, there aren’t a lot of parts for girls in the Christmas story, though often we have Wise Girls and Shepherd Girls, but in the story as it’s told, there’s really only one part for a girl, and that’s Mary. Besides that, Mary has the starring role. Well, of course, there’s Jesus, but he’s usually played by a doll, so the next best part is Mary. So how many of you, at some point in your life, played Mary in a Christmas pageant? Okay, how many of you wanted to play Mary but didn’t get to?
In my last church, we had a living Nativity, and every December, on the coldest and worst weather day of the month, we would stand outside and present the story of the first Christmas. Through the years, we had dense fog, blustery wind, sub-zero temperatures and even rain; yeah, it was a good time! One year, we had a young lady who desperately wanted to play Mary. She was engaged to be married the next summer, and she argued long and loud this was the last year she could authentically play Mary. She was engaged, just like Mary. She was young, just like Mary. She was not with child—she made that quite clear. Jil wanted to play Mary. I think she ended up as a shepherd instead. We want to be Mary because she has the starring role, but the question I want to ask today is this: did Mary want to be Mary?
Today is the first Sunday of Advent, a period of four weeks set aside to prepare our hearts and minds to celebrate Jesus’ birthday. And so during these four weeks, we are going on a journey together—not a literal journey, though if you want to actually stand in many of the places we’re going to talk about, you can come with us to the Holy Land next June. No, for the next four weeks, we’re going to journey through the Christmas story as we take a closer look at the places and the people who were part of Jesus’ birth. And where else would we start but with Mary in her hometown of Nazareth? Today, we want to see what her life and the way she responded to God can teach us about ourselves and our relationship with Jesus.
We know from historical records Nazareth was an insignificant place. The Talmud, a Hebrew commentary on Scripture, lists sixty-three villages in Galilee, the northern part of Israel, and the first-century Jewish historian Josephus lists forty-five villages in Galilee. Nazareth doesn’t make either list. Its population, in the first century, is estimated between 100 and 400, though it may have been smaller. It’s a dinky little town people passed by without thinking about (Hamilton, The Journey, pg. 15). I know towns like that. I grew up in a town like that. Sedalia, Indiana—population 150 if you count the cats and dogs. No one really noticed Sedalia or knew where it was unless I made reference to some other larger city. I would tell people it was halfway between Lafayette and Kokomo, or I would mention the railroad tracks that forced people to either slow down or lose their car’s undercarriage. Then people would have a vague recollection of Sedalia, but still not really remember it. Nazareth was like that. If you wanted people to know where Nazareth was, you would tell them it was close to Sepphoris, a wealthy town of about 30,000—slightly smaller than Portage. [VIDEO: SEPPHORIS] Culture, shopping, luxury houses—that was Sepphoris, and everyone knew where that was. It’s even possible Mary’s family might have worked for a wealthy family in Sepphoris. But Nazareth? In the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, when a man named Nathanael found out Jesus was from Nazareth, he asked, “Can anything good come from [Nazareth]?” (John 1:46).
Archaeology has confirmed Nazareth was a place of poverty. This was the place you lived if you couldn’t afford to live somewhere else. In fact, many of the so-called houses were simply caves that had a front room built onto them. [VIDEO: CAVE HOMES] If you go to the Holy Land, you’ll find caves are not unusual. Soft limestone caves are everywhere, and in the first century, it was the least expensive form of housing. If you needed another room, for instance, you just chipped away at the walls and carved out additional space. So Nazareth was a place of poverty, though the name comes from the Hebrew word “netzer,” which means “branch” or “shoot.” It’s a name that refers to a promise in the Old Testament. The prophet Isaiah had told the people that, one day, “a shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch [netzer] will bear fruit. The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirit of counsel and of might, the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the Lord” (Isaiah 11:1-2). That promise was understood to predict the Savior, the Messiah. In fact, in many of your Bibles, you will find the word “Branch” capitalized, as if it’s a name. That’s an interpretation; there are no capital letters in the original Hebrew, but the point is this: “the branch,” for many centuries, had been understood to be the savior, the one God would send to save the people. So this town, “Branch-Town,” Nazareth, expressed the hope that God might do something amazing to help and rescue the people. We’ve prayed their prayer, haven’t we? “God, into the mess of my situation, into the muck of my life, I need you to move. I need you to do something amazing, something I wouldn’t expect. I need you to turn things upside down.” We have our Nazareth—the place of our hopes and dreams, the place where we most need God to work. Nazareth—the lowly place it seemed God had forgotten was just the place God was about to work.
Living within this town, perhaps in a limestone cave, was a young woman named Miriam—Mary in English (Card, Luke: The Gospel of Amazement, pg. 39). Luke says she was “a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph” (1:27). We think of “pledged to be married” as the equivalent of “engagement,” but it was really much more than that. It was betrothal, which was a legally binding agreement between two families. During the year-long betrothal, the couple did not live together or consummate their marriage until after the formal ceremony, but betrothal could only be broken by death or divorce. A charge of adultery could be leveled against an unfaithful person even during betrothal. This was serious business, and it wouldn’t have been unusual for Mary to have no choice or say in the matter. Marriages were often arranged. Maybe in Mary’s case, it was to try to get her out of this poverty-stricken town. Joseph was from Bethlehem, and while he was not wealthy, he had a decent job. Luke doesn’t tell us how old Mary was, but since the custom was for betrothal to took place soon after a girl entered puberty, it’s likely Mary was in her early teens, perhaps as young as 13 (Liefeld 830; Hamilton 21). Now, let that sink in for a moment.
So Mary, 13 years old, living in a poor excuse for a town, is visited by an angel named Gabriel. Tradition has two locations for this visitation; both times I’ve been to Nazareth, we’ve been taken to the [VIDEO: MARY’S WELL] Church of the Annunciation, which is located over the ancient city springs. This tradition claims Mary was getting water for her family when Gabriel appeared, and so this church is built over the top of the ancient springs, a spring which is still running today. Roman Catholics believe Mary was at home when Gabriel appeared, but all that isn’t as important as what he says to her. “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus” (1:30-31). The word translated “favor” is the Greek word charis, which is better translated “grace.” Mary is “highly favored” or “full of grace.” What does that mean? Well, grace is getting what we don’t deserve. Charis contains the idea of getting an undeserved gift. In the Old Testament, the word is hesed, and it’s a hard word to translate. One author has said hesed is “when the one who owes you nothing gives you everything.” Hesed, charis, grace—when we get what we don’t deserve. Kindness to the unkind. Compassion to the heartless. Love to the unloveable. Grace is what God was up to at Christmas. Grace filled Mary, and the baby who was going to be born would be one who would talk to tax collectors, sinners, prostitutes, the unloved, the sick and dying—the least, the last and the lost. This baby would give grace to those who thought God had forgotten them. His acts of grace would change the world, for grace not only changes the person who gives it, but also the person who receives it. Mary is full of grace. She’s just the sort of person to give birth to and raise the one who would change the world. That’s what Gabriel tells her. So how does she respond to such news? What do you say when you are “greatly troubled” (1:29), when your world has been turned upside down?
SONG: What Sort of Song?
“How will this be?” Mary asks (1:34). Now, if you’ve read the first part of Luke 1, you know this isn’t the first appearance Gabriel makes in the Gospel. Six months before this, he appeared to an old priest named Zechariah, and told him that he and his wife, Elizabeth, would have a baby who would prepare the way for the savior. This old childless couple had given up hope of ever having a baby (cf. 1:7), which was extremely difficult in a culture where children were considered to be a sign of God’s blessing. This righteous husband and wife were “very old” and had put up with people’s questions and nosiness and whispers for many years. So when Gabriel tells Zechariah he’s going to have a son, Zechariah asks, “How can I be sure of this?” (1:18). And for his question, he is made mute for nine months. Now, on the surface, Zechariah and Mary seem to ask similar questions, yet Mary is not punished for her question. What’s the difference here? It’s what they were asking for, and it tells us about Mary’s character. Zechariah is asking for confirmation. Prove it to me. I have to be certain about this. I imagine he’s not wanting to get Elizabeth’s hopes up if this isn’t really going to come true. Besides, he’s old and so is she. There aren’t any people their age having babies. He wants confirmation. He wants God to prove himself. Mary, on the other hand, never asks for a sign. Rather than confirmation, she asks for information. Even at 13, she knows how babies are made, and she also knows it’s not possible, humanly speaking, for her to be pregnant. She’s a virgin. She’s remained pure, stayed true to Joseph. “How can this be?” Mary doesn’t question the words of the angel. She doesn’t say, “Yeah, right, whatever.” She just wants a little bit of information, and once she is reminded that God’s power is greater than human wisdom, she’s ready to move ahead. “May your word to me be fulfilled,” she says (1:38). Mary is obedient to this messenger from God (Liefeld 831; Wright, Luke for Everyone, pg. 12; Card 39).
So…why Mary? Why Nazareth? And why does this story matter to us, over 2,000 years later? Sometimes, we treat this story as just a nice thing to read by a fireplace or next to a Christmas tree, as if it’s just a quaint story from the past—but it’s far more than that. Bishop Tom Wright reminds us, “Mary is…the supreme example of what always happens when God is at work by grace through human beings. God’s power from outside, and the indwelling spirit within, together result in things being done which would have been unthinkable any other way” (Wright 11). “To become obedient to [God’s] call always means becoming a slave to the impossible” (Card 40). Mary reminds us God can and will do great things in and through us when we allow him to work, when we respond as she did, “May your word to me be fulfilled” (1:38). The first thing we learn from Mary and from her hometown of Nazareth is that nothing is ever insignificant in God’s eyes. In fact, throughout the Biblical story, God often chooses to use the things that seem insignificant to the world: the small, the humble, the broken, the ones the world would never expect. Now, it’s not that those people and those places have nothing to lose. Mary, quite honestly, could have lost her life. She could be accused of adultery, and the penalty for adultery was death by stoning. At the very least, she was going to have to endure the whispers and the stares of small town life. A pregnant girl who isn’t yet married, whose fiancĂ© lives, in fact, many days’ journey away, wasn’t going to go unnoticed. It was also risky in those days because many women died in childbirth (Hamilton 29). As a young teenager, Mary’s life was not going to be easy from here on out. So did Mary want to be Mary? She was blessed by God, but that blessing didn’t mean a life of ease and luxury. That blessing meant a life of risk, of giving herself away. And yet there was the promise that her life, which might have to that point seemed so insignificant, so unimportant, was about to take on world-changing significance. Paul wrote this to the church at Corinth: “Take a good look, friends, at who you were when you got called into this life. I don't see many of ‘the brightest and the best’ among you, not many influential, not many from high-society families. Isn't it obvious that God deliberately chose men and women that the culture overlooks and exploits and abuses, chose these ‘nobodies’ to expose the hollow pretensions of the ‘somebodies’?” (1 Corinthians 1:26-28, Message). A heart yielded to God never results in an insignificant life. Mary, Nazareth, you and me—God chooses the least likely to accomplish his most important work (Hamilton 21).
That leads us, then, to what Mary’s story asks us: how will you respond to God’s invitation, to God’s call to join him in changing the world? I highly doubt any of us will be asked to do what Mary did, to give birth to Son of God; that, it seems, was and is a once-in-history event. But God still invites us to come along on his mission. It is still our task and our calling to make God known in this world. Mary’s calling was what we call the “incarnation,” a word that simply means God became flesh and blood. And we still are called to live that incarnation—to make Jesus present to this world, to all around us, to anyone we can. And so the invitation is still real: will we participate in God’s mission—not just for the season of Advent, because Mary’s response was not just for the next nine months. If you’re a parent, you know that having a child is a lifelong commitment. No matter how old they get, they’re still you’re children. We know from the Gospels how Mary worried about Jesus all through his ministry and how she was there at the cross, watching him die. She didn’t just say “yes” for a season—she said “yes” for a life. Are we willing to respond as she did when God calls us?
I want to suggest three ways to respond, all of which correspond with our values here at Portage First. The first is, if you haven’t already, get involved in a small group—take part in intentional faith development. During this season of the year, as I said, we can become overly familiar with the story, so one of the reasons I’m doing this series is to hopefully put some new life and new meaning into this ancient story that is at the center of who we are. But you will grow even more if you’re participating with others in studying and sharing and learning. Small groups start this week; I cannot encourage you enough to plug in to one, to get involved and use this season to grow your faith. You can still sign up today.
Second, find a place to serve this season, to engage in risk-taking mission and service. Jesus said he came not to be served but to serve, and when you hear the words of Mary to Gabriel—“I am the Lord’s servant”—you have to think he saw that demonstrated all the time when he was growing up. Mary had the heart of a servant; so did her son, and so should all of his followers. Find a place to serve this Advent season, whether that’s giving up of your time and your comfort to ring bells for the Salvation Army, or inviting someone who is alone over for Christmas dinner, or helping out at a homeless shelter, or the food pantry, or shoveling snow for that elderly neighbor—the possibilities are literally endless. But here’s the catch: serving means doing something, getting your hands dirty, not just writing a check. What can you do to make a positive difference in the life of someone else this Advent? How can you join Mary in saying, “I am the Lord’s servant”?
And then the third suggestion—just so you don’t think there are no opportunities to give this season, I want to invite you to, above and beyond your regular giving, participate in our Advent Conspiracy offering with your extravagant generosity. As we’ve done the last couple of years, the offering taken at our Christmas Candlelight services will be given away. It won’t be used for the church or for the pastors or anything like that. Half of it is going to provide clean water wells in a community in Africa where one of our members, Lauren Falk, is working. Thirty thousand people in the world die every week from unsafe drinking water; 27,000 of those are children under the age of five. Many of the diseases are preventable if they just had something we take for granted—clean drinking water (charitywater.org). And we can do something about that. The other half of the offering will again go to provide meals for children here in Portage through the “Feed My Lambs” program. That money will provide a box of food every weekend of the school year for children who would otherwise go without, and that makes a huge difference in their lives and in their academic achievement—which, ultimately, makes a difference in their future, in breaking the cycle of poverty. What I’ve asked the last couple of years is for each of us to consider either reducing what we buy and giving the rest to the offering or giving an amount equal to what we spend on ourselves toward the offering. Undoubtedly, many of us either began or continued our Christmas shopping this past weekend. Consumerism rules the roost when it comes to Christmas, and we give gifts to each other like it’s our birthday. But it’s not. It’s Jesus’ birthday, and what he wants for Christmas is for us to care about the least, the last and the lost. As Pastor Mike Slaughter puts it, “The idol of consumerism is one of the hardest to topple. John Wesley identified the wallet as the last thing to be converted in a person’s life” (Christmas Is Not Your Birthday, pg. 5). Even with our money, can we say, “I am the Lord’s servant”? If we’re willing to do what we can, God will do what we can’t. He’ll take what we give and make a lasting difference in the world around us (cf. Slaughter 14). So we can give; even today, there’s a place to give at the Connection Center for the Advent Conspiracy—a conspiracy to change the world. And then during Christmas Candlelight, everything we give will go to that conspiracy.
“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary said. “May your word to me be fulfilled” (1:38). And, as Gabriel promised, the word from God did not fail. So, the question comes back to us: who wants to be Mary this Advent season? Not just for a few moments in a pageant, but who wants to be so sold out to God that we’re willing to trust he can use insignificant us to accomplish great things in the world? Who wants to be Mary? If you’re ready and willing to follow her example and go where God leads you, I invite you say her prayer along with me. Let’s pray. “I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be fulfilled.”