Let it be with me according to your Word.
Advent. A time of waiting. A time to prepare. We have
identified at least two prayers this Advent to give some sort of shape to our
waiting and our preparations: Come, Lord Jesus. And then this from
Maggie Ross: Lord, give us mercy to bear your mercy. This Fourth Sunday
in Advent suggests to us another prayer from that moment in time that makes
Advent possible. This, of course, is the Annunciation-when the Angel Gabriel
appears, or perhaps better, is suddenly perceived to be with a young woman
named Mary.
My new favorite portrait of this moment is a sixteenth
century painting by Lorenzo Lotto that shows God in the clouds sending Gabriel
into Mary’s kitchen, with a clearly alarmed cat dashing away from the angel,
and Mary, with her back to Gabe, who is on one knee with a lily seeming to make
a proposal, as Mary seems to appeal to the viewer, her hands palms-up facing
us, perhaps inviting us into the experience of the very surprising holiness
that has taken hold of the entire scene! So that the angel is not only
proposing to Mary, but also to the viewer, you, me, all of us who dare to hope,
pray, prepare, and wait for the arrival of Christ in our lives. [i]
I suspect Lorenzo Lotto’s scene is closer to what it must
have been like than the traditional placid, quiet, orderly depictions with
which we are all too familiar. This is the moment. This is the starting point.
For without Mary’s response, we would not be here at all. For indeed, she was
asked, not commanded, to participate in the most extraordinary way to exceed
all human expectations. After being invited to bear a child of God, God
incarnate, she becomes, as our Orthodox siblings call her, the Theotokos, the
Mother of God, and calmly replies, “Let it be with me according to your
word.” [ii]
Maggie Ross, reflecting on the Annunciation, writes that she
suddenly realizes “…that the bread made God and the God made bread with which
we live so intimately in the Eucharist was possible only because of her response,
her acceptance; that the Sacrament is the earthly and tangible culmination of
her saying, “yes.” Let be with me according to your Word. [iii]
To sit with this story, we need not only let go of our own
very real human expectations, but also to let go of any and all concepts we
have of God and try to begin to understand God’s concept of us – who, and what,
and how we are meant “to be.” We may recall that night when Nicodemus went to
see Jesus in the dark of night, only to be told of his need to be “born again,”
or “born from above.” Poor Nic cries out, as Mary does at first, “How shall
this be?” Just as John the baptizer’s father Zechariah cries out, “How
shall this be?” Just as Abraham’s and Sarah’s laughter when they learned
that he, age one hundred, and she in her nineties, would have a son!
“How shall this be?” it turns out, is a central
dimension of faith and just what God’s concept of us is all about. As we read
in Hebrews, “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction
of things not seen.” [iv]
It turns out it’s those things that are ‘unseen’ which are most central
to faith. Surely, Mary never saw, let alone imagined, what she was being asked
to do: to bear Christ to the world. Do we begin to understand that what God
asks of Mary is what God asks of us all? That we are to bear Christ to the
world in all we say and all we do.
This leads Maggie Ross to conclude, “This is the answer
to Nicodemus: that in order bear the Word of God, to enter the Kingdom, we must
indeed be born from the Spirit, not for the second time in the womb of our
natural mothers, but continuously in the love of the Mother of God that brought
forth her Son, and at the same time, like her, to bear him as well. Mary, then,
is my mother in this second birth, just as she is Nicodemus’s mother.” [v]
Mary becomes the Mother of us all.
Mary then rushes to see her cousin Elizabeth, who in her
advanced age became the surprising and surprised mother of John the baptizer.
Elizabeth understands. What ensues is one of the very first song texts of our
tradition which we call the Magnificat, or Song of Mary. The Greek text is
unclear as to whether Mary or Elizabeth made this pronouncement, but it is so vitally
important to understanding who and what we are meant to be that we read it
twice on this Fourth Sunday of Advent. It is so central to what it means to be
a follower of Christ, that every household is expected to read it every evening
as appointed in our Prayer Book for Evening Prayer. It is a revolutionary creed
really. It speaks to turning the world right-side-up again: it speaks of
scattering the proud, casting down the mighty, lifting up the lowly, filling
the hungry, and sending the rich away empty. All of which is wrapped in
repeated mention of God’s everlasting mercy! As Jesus asserts in the
Beatitudes, “Blessed are the merciful!”
One wag once suggested that the Beatitudes are attitudes of
being, what it means to be a follower of Jesus Christ: merciful, peacemakers,
righteous, pure in heart, the salt of the earth, the light of the world. [vi]
Long ago I heard a French hymn by the poet, Didier Rimaud. It’s called Les
Arbres dans la Mer – Trees in the Sea. It is based on Jesus teaching his
followers how with just a tiny bit of faith as small as a mustard seed, one can
plant trees in the sea, help the blind to see, the lame to walk, and set prisoners
set free. The English text of the poem goes something like this:
1
Look! The Virgin has a child,
A man is born of God,
Heaven is among us,
the people are no longer alone!
It would take only a bit of faith
and you would see trees in the sea
Beggars who are kings
The powerful overthrown,
Wealth is shared!
2
Look! Water turns into wine,
Wine becomes blood,
Loaves multiply,
People are no longer hungry!
It would take only a bit of faith
and you would see trees in the sea
Deserts full of flowers
Harvests in winter
Granaries are overflowing!
3
Look! the lame can walk
the blind see the light of day
the deaf are delivered
the people are no longer in pain!
It would take only a bit of faith
and you would see the trees in the
sea
Executioners without work
Rusty handcuffs
Prisons are useless!
4
Look! The cross is empty and bare,
Your graves are pierced,
and the man stands
the people are no longer afraid!
It would take only a bit of faith
and you would see the trees in the
sea
Guns buried
Armies discarded
Mountains dancing!
I believe this is the vision Mary and Elizabeth mean to share
with us every day. This is what it means to take that first step into God’s
kingdom. I believe were we to read the Magnificat, the Song of Mary, at
least once a day, this vision can become not just a part of us, a part of our
Community of Love, but a reality for all the world. For this we wait. For this
we prepare. This is Advent.
It all begins when we join with Mary and say, “Let it be with
me according to your Word.”
Lord, give us mercy to bear your mercy.
Come, Lord Jesus, come…
[iii]
Ross, Maggie, The Fire of Your Life (Paulist Press, New York:1983) p.19.