Speaker 1: Welcome, and thanks for downloading the podcast. We wanna get you to the sermon as quickly as possible, but we do wanna let you know about our annual advent campaign that has just launched this Sunday. Every year, we try to take some of the generosity that is engendered by this Christmas story and point it toward those who we can help. This year is no different. Our goal is to raise $50,000 on top of what we already do all year to help those in need.
You can head to commons.churchadvent to read all the details about four particular projects that we are focusing on this year and to give if you are able. Have a Merry Christmas, and as you can, extend the generosity of Christ wherever you go. Welcome to the Commons cast. We're glad to have you here. We hope you find something meaningful in our teaching this week.
Head to commons.church for more information.
Speaker 2: We have not met. I'm Bobby, and I am one of the pastors here at Commons. And it's Advent. Hey. Oh.
Welcome to Advent, the beginning of a new Christian year. That's what this stole is about. It highlights the church season in our worship. Advent is all about our preparation for the feast of Christmas. It's four weeks of waiting and wondering, and I love it.
But more on Advent in a moment. Last week, I was out of town for a few days. Jonathan and I were in San Diego with his family celebrating his parents' fiftieth wedding anniversary. It was so great, minus the part where I came home with food poisoning and puked on the airplane. That part was less great, but you know what?
I'll even take the food poisoning to have weekends like this. Let me tell you how great it is for me to be a part of the family that I married into. But how I married into that family is actually pretty weird. It's a strange mystery in my life. When I went to college in 1996, I was in a dorm with Jonathan's older sister, Sarah.
And after college, I moved to San Francisco to work at a church for a few years, and I got to know Jonathan's oldest sister, Nicole, and her family because they live in the Bay Area. After California, I moved to Vancouver, where the third sister, Wendy, lives. And I'd hang out with Wendy almost every week, and we'd talk about boys and jobs and friends. All the while, there was this younger brother of these three fabulous sisters, and long story short, after twenty years of friendship with this family, I married the brother. It genuinely surprised all of us, including me.
I mean, how does a story like that even happen? I thought that I was the worst at dating, all through my twenties and most of my thirties. And then, well, what do you know? It turns out love was there all along. First in friendships and then in partnership.
Isn't life just so weird and wild and mysterious? I mean, sure. That looks like a pretty tame family photo on the steps with a bunch of smiling humans. But the story behind it of me sitting there with those people, that story is something I never saw coming. A mystery I hope I always marvel at.
Today, we're beginning our advent journey to Christmas. And the story of God coming to us in a baby to form a new family with unbreakable bonds of love, that story is a mystery we are invited to marvel at year after year. In our sermon series, we decided to mark our Advent journey with the theme of prayer, but prayer in a way that should be refreshing for you. We called the series Advent Prayers, but it's actually a little stranger than that title. The historical church has held onto five advent prayers with their Latin titles.
So in Latin, the series is called Pentad of Prayers, which just means five prayers. And in Latin, the five prayers go like this. The Fiett mihi, the Magnificat, the Benedictus, the Gloria in Excelsis, and the Nunct Dimitis. Now, why do Latin phrases matter to you in Advent? Well, here's my hot take.
These prayers cover everything. The fiat mihi prayer is personal when Mary consents to give birth. And the magnificat prayer is political, when she sings about God's justice to bring down rulers from thrones. And the Benedictus prayer is familial. When Zechariah and Elizabeth are called to parenthood in their old age, and the Gloria prayer is cosmic.
When the angels sing about peace on earth, and the nunc deminis prayer faces death. When Simon sees the boy Jesus in the temple and says, my work here is done. Our hope is that if prayer has been distant from you for a long time, Advent can return you to the practice. And if prayer has always been close by, you might sense a new invitation to pray in this season of long nights and cold days. So today, we are unpacking the Fiat Mihi, and I'll spell it for you if you're taking notes.
It's f I a t, and the next word is m I h I. And it's the may it be to me prayer of Mary. And I'm calling this sermon, who's ready for a mystery? And we will talk about the case of Mary, troubled by an angel, secret identities, and dark turns to light turns to dark. But before we dive in, please join me in prayer.
Loving God, we all bring something different to the season of Advent. Some of us are tired. Some of us are lonely. Some of us are broken in body or mind or spirit. And I love that you get all of that.
You who put on human flesh and lived as we live. And so in Advent, the themes of waiting and wondering and considering the mystery are here to welcome us just the way we are. May we sense your approach through this baby in our imaginations yet to be born, but coming to a world in need of love and peace and hope, coming to meet us in the places of our longing and our need. So, spirit, you are here, and we give thanks. Amen.
So our Christian calendar says that with Advent, a new year is here. But our calendar calendar says we're like a month away. Right? And I gotta know, how many of you are making a mad dash to accomplish a goal you set out to reach in 2019? Anybody?
Nobody? Well, I do have a goal. I am racing to achieve. Thankfully, I have some accountability because I'm tackling the goal with my friend, Lindy. And together, we are working on a reading challenge from the podcast Reading Women.
And, Lindy and I are so committed to this challenge that we send each other Snapchat updates. And this is the only thing I use Snapchat for, a book club. Maybe because I'm over 40, but more likely because I am a nerd. So in this challenge, there are 24 genres you need to read from in a year, like a translated book published before 1945, multigenerational family saga, a myth retelling, and so on, all written by women. And for some reason, one of the categories I kept until the end is mystery or thriller by a woman of color.
And mysteries are way outside of my reading wheelhouse. But I finally did some digging, and I chose to read the book, The Unquiet Dead by Asma Zahanit Khan. The book is personal and political, and it is much darker than I expected. And you guys, I am into it. Now, I won't dive into what the book is about because this is not a book report sermon, though I would slay a book report sermon.
What I will say is that the mystery genre has a lot to offer us as we step into the story of Mary. Being surprised by an angel and headed for the greatest mystery of her life. According to people who know a lot more about mysteries than me, all mysteries need a detective, a secret, and a dark turn. And we are going to find all of that in the mystery of Mary and her may it be to me prayer. So in church tradition, the scene of Mary and the angel is known as the annunciation, the announcement.
And we pick it up in Luke chapter one verse 26. In the sixth month of Elizabeth's pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin's name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, greetings, you who are highly favored. The Lord is with you.
So in the case of Mary, let's take a look at her story within the story. The timeline tells us that Mary's pregnancy will happen alongside Elizabeth's pregnancy, Elizabeth being the mother of John the Baptist. And both pregnancies are announced by an angel. And Jewish readers would know that Elizabeth and Zechariah's annunciation is a new Samson story that goes all the way back to the book of Judges. And both babies are set apart, but where Samson like colors all outside the lines, John makes a clear way for the Messiah.
And I love this about our sacred stories. They don't involve perfect people in perfect times and places. Again and again, God comes to us through real people. Sometimes, God even uses messy people, like Samson. Other times, they are faithful and good, like Elizabeth and Zechariah.
Maybe we never really know why God chooses some people to play a certain part. But in the case of Mary, being good and faithful doesn't make her an obvious choice. I mean, let's consider where Mary is located or where she isn't for that matter. Mary isn't in Rome where all important decisions are made. Mary isn't even in Jerusalem where her Jewish faith is centered.
Mary is in Galilee. Galilee. Nobody cares about Galilee. Galilee is backwoods. And over the centuries, many have tried to crack the case of Mary.
Like, why would God choose her? And there are all kinds of theories and theologies about that question. There is even a work called the Protoevangelium of James, written in a hundred and forty CE, which says Mary was devoted to the Lord since infancy. And that she passed her time in the temple with daily conversations with angels. I mean, the story is apocryphal.
But that doesn't mean it isn't important. Because for two thousand years, Mary has been what we need her to be. We know very little from the scriptures about this young woman, and our imaginations have run wild with that scarcity for centuries. Even I have moments, thanks to my Catholic upbringing, where Mary meets me and tells me something of God's tender nature. Mary is who we need her to be.
And it turns out, she is who God needs to. God loves a story you don't expect, a mystery you cannot unravel. And you know why that matters to you and to me? Because life is not what you'd expect. You know that.
I mean, it's likely that you didn't expect a piece of your family to fall apart, or your mental health to be such a slog. You didn't expect that the person you trust the most would tear you in two, and your body would turn against you? You didn't expect that your faith foundation would crumble, and your sense of home and safety could just evaporate? The case for Mary is that she's not what you'd expect. That's the point.
And just like Mary, whose annunciation came after Elizabeth's, whose annunciation came after Samson's mother's angel visit. Your unexpected life fits in God's story too. And the case for you is that God is perfectly happy to deal in the unexpected. I'm not saying God did any of the unexpected things to you. I'm just saying God will reach into the heart of anything that is broken and weak and ignored and say, hey, don't worry.
I can use that. God is thrilled even to trouble us with healing like that. So back to the text. Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said 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. Ancient Israel took the presence of angels for granted. Angels turn up all over the place in deserts. They deliver holy messages and assure people that God is involved in human life.
But what about you? In your life, do angels turn up in your story? Deliver you words from heaven? Assure you of God's presence? Maybe they do.
But if you're like me, you haven't noticed them. In Genesis eighteen, three men appear to Abraham and Sarah. And Abraham and Sarah prepare a meal for them, and later, it is noted that these figures who look like men are angels. And in Hebrews 13, the writer says that by showing hospitality to one another, we could be entertaining angels unaware. So these texts express something familiar about angels.
Angels can even look like us. Whatever their form, they deliver news that we need to hear. But news that comes out of nowhere, revelation you didn't see coming, it's not easy to absorb announcements like that. We're told that Mary is troubled, and the Greek verb for her agitation is, is a combination of two words. Means through or to the limit, And terrazzo means trouble or stir up.
And one study explains that the verb involves intensely going back and forth between inner thoughts and emotions. Big news is disorienting. When something shifts in your world and you get news that you aren't expecting, you're not supposed to make sense of it right away. Be gentle with yourself. The verb here is too strong for us to imagine Mary's fear is just gone in a flash.
And even as her eyes adjust to this heavenly being and her heart beats so fast, she can feel it in her fingertips, and she tries really hard to hear what is being said to her, even in the confusion to make sense of this address, assurance comes. Assurance comes. There are blessings for Mary in her fear, and blessings are in your fear too. Pronounced favor in the wake of news you didn't see coming says, blessed are those who are afraid. Blessed are those who aren't prepared.
Blessed are those who don't even know themselves that well. Being troubled by an angel or a message or a mystery doesn't mean God is far away. It may even mean God is finally drawing near. So the angel says to Mary, this son of yours will be the son of the most high. God will give the child the throne of David, and Jesus will reign over Jacob's descendants forever.
This is a kingdom that will never end. Now, this verse is packed with ancestral identities. And recently, my niece was putting together the importance of where we come from. She's four. And my niece said to my sister, I know you grew in agave.
That's what she calls my mom, her grandma. And agave grew in grandma Georgie. That's my grandma, her great grandma. But who did grandma Georgie grow in? Even a four year old wants to know where we come from.
She has a sense why that matters. Sometimes we're super aware of that, and other times we're way less reverent of our roots. And when we look at the ancestral identities in the angel's words to Mary, it's helpful to remember the words come from an ancient world view that saw existence in three tiers. And we call this the three tiered universe. So heaven is above.
God most high dwells there. And the world below, where we live. And the underworld is beneath us, where we fear we will go when we die. Now, the great wars of the last century caused that worldview to collapse. And Diana Butler Bass, in her great book, Grounded, says, we now live in a theologically flattened world.
She writes, we have found that the ranks of saints and angels seem to have thinned, and no deity will be sending miracles to fix the mess that we are in. But the disappearance of our certainty in the face of such human tragedy doesn't erase where we come from. We come from this three tiered universe. Three tiers are written all over the scriptures. But we have not outgrown this Christmas story.
No way. Christmas reveals the secret that our encounter with the divine, that God is not far off and above and distant, but God is so near. How will this be, Mary asked the angel, since I am a virgin? The angel answered, the Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the most high will overshadow you. So the holy one will be born, will be called the son of God.
Even Elizabeth, your relative, is going to have a child in her old age. And she who has said to be unable to conceive is in her sixth month, for no word from God will ever fail. Now, in Greek, Mary's question is just seven words. Seven words of protest. And frankly, I think the angel sidesteps her question.
Mary says, how can this be? And the angel says, God will do something to make it so. Then the angel throws in some words about shadows and relatives, and a final platitude, no word from God will fail. I mean, we're aware here, aren't we, of the kind of burden the angel is placing on Mary. There's no way that she will dodge the social stigma that is sewn on her la pel.
We're talking an unwed mother in the first century. Humiliation and pain are placed on Mary in this scene. So when we cozy up to a neat and tidy toy manger, we actually miss the fullness of this tale. Advent does not prepare us for gift wrapped presents or gingerbread lattes, though it is perfectly fine if you enjoy those things. Advent prepares us for unanswered questions and burdens too heavy to carry, and a path so solitary sometimes, you feel you could just break apart.
It's not easy to crack the advent mystery, but mystery makes you think. Mystery involves your imagination. Mystery wakes you up. So let's be glad that these words from an angel to Mary aren't easy to parse. It shouldn't be easy to make sense of a God who wraps divine light in dark days and proceeds to shine love on us all.
Shouldn't it be manageable to understand all the links that these ancient stories reveal to our modern times? It certainly does nothing to our pain and our struggle to offer basic answers when we are broken by hard times. No. In Advent, we return to mystery. So it's okay if you don't understand where things are at with you and God right now.
No problem. Count it a mystery and keep going. God will meet you up ahead. God always does. We come from these sacred identities, these ancient ways of being with God in the world.
Yes. The law, the prophets, the scriptures are true, But what is also true is that God is found in the world and in a womb. And we actually have a say in how we want our lives to go from here. Now, this story does not end with a booming voice from heaven. It doesn't finish with this flutter of a thousand angels' wings.
It's just the voice of a girl who says yes to God. I am the Lord's servant, Mary answered. May your word to me be fulfilled. Then the angel left her. In mystery novels, there's a moment in the narrative known as the dark turn.
And the dark turn happens when the hero breaks or abandons the rules in pursuit of the secret or the truth. Now, more typically, the point of a mystery is to reveal something about our darker side, the darker side of our human nature. But that's not the kind of mystery we're in here. Or is it? Up until this point, when the angel arrives to greet Mary, the world has known many a brutal empire, many a violent nation, many a corrupt king.
Even right here, Mary sits in a rough time. Rome is the rule. Their emperor is God. And religious minorities like the Jewish people are kicked around and used and ignored. So we could say that the juxtaposition with this vulnerable baby does reveal something of our dark nature.
And here, our hero Mary breaks from society's submission to violent empires. Mary says, yes to God. Yes to something new. Yes to something risky. Yes to charting a path of the divine in the world.
It's one that starts with just a baby. A baby about to grow in this young, poor, unwed mother. A nobody, really. But one who's captured the imagination of God for a world where power and violence do not have the last word. Oh, you're scared?
I'm sure Mary was scared too. Oh, you feel weak? I know Mary felt weak too. Oh, you want a different world for the kids in your life? Mary wants that as well.
In Mary's own words, she says, I am God's servant. May it be to me if you have said, may it be to me. A more stripped down translation of that prayer is just let me. Let me be the one to birth this baby. Let me be the one to risk my life for love.
Let me be the one whose small, faithful actions put real change in a world of great need. And after the angel leaves her, the room where Mary sits does not fill with heavenly light, but that is okay. The dark solitary part is holy too. And soon, she will head out into the night alone, into a world that doesn't yet know her secret. She'll set out to find her cousin Elizabeth.
She'll find comfort in the company of those who know how special these babies will grow to be. What a cast of characters assembled to change the world. And in my new love of mystery novels, I'm struck by how everyone plays a part. Each character moves the story forward, or tangles up the plot, or gets lost along the way. The complexity, the twists, and the turns, that's what makes mystery so good.
And there's a doctrine in Christian tradition known as the sacred mysteries. And a basic definition is that sacred mysteries are beliefs that are common knowledge but are hard to explain. And back in the fourth century, the sacraments were held as sacred mysteries. The power of the Eucharist and baptism has always been hard to explain. What could be so special about a sip of wine, a piece of bread, a little water in a basin?
But here's what I know about sacraments and ancient stories and holy church seasons like Advent. These rituals remind us what it means to be alive. It means that we're involved with the divine, that we don't have it all figured out, even as darkness turns to light and then goes dark again. God keeps coming to us through angels, the scriptures, novels and friends, sisters, poems, lovers and pets, silence, meditation, celebration and song. And like Mary, we live with sacred mystery when we say, let me.
Let me be a part of what God is doing even if I don't understand it. Let me hold something of the divine in my scrawny little arms. Let me glimpse God's nearness in places I don't expect. I mean, who's ready for mystery? Because the marvels of Advent, they really are here for us all.
Please join me in prayer. Loving God, may it be to me, May it be to me. May it be to me. Even though we don't understand, even when what is right and good scares us, even when we can't see how the story will end? Jesus, will you approach us in our very real lives as your angel approached Mary?
We might not expect the messenger, but we can trust that the message is beautiful and kind hearted and true. So spirit of the living God, present with us now. Enter the places of our pain and confusion, and heal us of all that harms us. Amen.