A Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, Year C (Luke 1:26-38)

A Rutgers’ student recently asked me why we use blue candles and vestments in our chapel during Advent instead of the traditional purple and pink. First, I explained that there are many traditions, not just one, during Advent. Then I went on to explain that blue is the color of Mary. Using blue at Advent places a stronger emphasis on Jesus’ mother. The student thought a moment and then replied, “That sounds kind of Catholic!” I said, “Well, yes, I guess it is.” 

Mary of Nazareth is both a remarkable and a controversial figure in the Christian faith. Many Protestants have become afraid of even mentioning Mary, worrying that paying too much attention to her might make them seem Popish. As Episcopalians, of course, we have traditionally steered a more centrist course. That’s the Anglican way after all. We mostly try to avoid superstitious excesses when it comes to Mary, but we also know that we cannot just ignore her! She is the mother of Jesus, and, therefore, the Mother of God!

In the beginning of Luke’s Gospel, we hear the remarkable things that God brought about with a particular family, first with Zechariah and Elisabeth, and then with Elisabeth’s cousin, Mary. Soon they would all learn what kind of God was calling them. This God brings life where there has been death. This God speaks words of hope and promise where there has only been despair and pain. God breaks into their lives and invites them to participate in nothing short of the redemption of the world!

God speaks to Zechariah, and his wife, Elisabeth, conceives a son, John, who we would come to know as John the Baptist. And then, of course, the times when God’s will intersected with the life of this young, unmarried girl named Mary.

These encounters have produced some of most powerful and beloved texts in all of holy scripture, and they are the words of and about Mary of Nazareth. Right before this morning’s Gospel, we hear the story of the Annunciation. The angel Gabriel brings Mary a stunning invitation – that she would be part of God’s plan. Gabriel’s words to Mary are still being repeated today, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” Or, in the more traditional translation: “Hail, Mary, full of Grace.”

This is an unforgettable moment, not just for Mary, but for all of us. The mysterious approach of the divine, with impossible news. But Mary doesn’t acquiesce to this news. She is bold enough to question Gabriel, “How can these things be?” There is a dialogue between this young woman and this divine messenger. Mary challenges the messenger and in that way challenges God. Ultimately, Mary consents to God’s plans, not cowed under by fear, or the result of force.  She will does so prayerfully and with her eyes wide opened.

It is in this moment that Mary is truly filled with grace. As one poet has written, in that moment, Mary makes room for God.

And then, in this morning’s Gospel, we hear what we have come to call “The Magnificat”. Again, some of the most beloved words in all of holy scripture.

These are the words Mary proclaimed when she heard the good news of great joy – she would conceive and bear a son, God’s son. God’s plans were surprising, and Mary is amazed. God has cast down the mighty and lifted up the lowly. This humble servant of God would be the one through whom the world would receive our greatest gift, Emmanuel, God with us.

This God chooses the unlikely, the unfavored. This overthrows the powerful and raises up the lowest. This God confounds expectations. And this God turns tables! I wonder if Mary pondered these things in her heart when she heard how her son began to turn tables during his ministry as well, embracing the outcasts. Challenging the authorities. She must have seen the family resemblance!

Of course, God’s promises don’t end with Mary or Jesus. God has heard our cries. God still hears our cries. God has seen the suffering and the struggling that tears lives and nations apart. But it is not through warfare or might that God breaks in to human history. It is through a vulnerable, helpless baby born to a humble and hopeful girl.

“From this day all generations will call me blessed,” how right Mary was! We still speak of her and her faith. She represents to us hope in a world that often seems hopeless. She bears the promise of God’s salvation. It may seem a small thing, Mary’s yes, almost inevitable. But it is in Mary’s yes that we hear the very salvation of the universe being born.

The power of these two encounters has captured the imaginations of Christians and non-Christians alike for centuries. These divine moment have been celebrated in art and music and even dance. There is beauty here, but also great mystery, nothing less than the mystery of human will confronted with divine purpose. This is the burning bush with Moses removing his sandals, the angel wrestling with Jacob and giving him a new name, the still small voice whispering to Elijah and telling him not to fear. God has come near and Mary must respond.

Today we lit the fourth candle of our Advent Wreath, the candle of love. We celebrate the love shared in the Holy Family, but also the love Christ’s birth brings to us. And this love brings light to a world that can seem very dark. The light of these candles is at its brightest so far, and yet it is not quite complete. One more candle waits. On Christmas Eve, when Mary’s consent comes to fruition, when the Christ Child draws his first breath, in remembrance and celebration, churches will light the final candle. The light continues to grow and to spread, calling each and every one of us to examine our hearts.

Mary’s story should leave us asking questions too when God calls us: What will we do? How will we respond? Will we yield our hearts? Will we be caught up in hope and trust rather than doubt and fear? Will we, like Mary, make room for God?

In the words of today’s collect: Purify our conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation, that your Son Jesus Christ, at his coming, may find in us a mansion prepared for himself. Amen.