Posts Tagged ‘birth’

Open to possibility, Mary’s “yes” to God

December 23, 2023

Advent 4 – 2024

Luke 1:26-38

Marian Free

In the name of God who gives us courage to face life’s challenges and who through them brings new things to birth. Amen.

When I told my mother that I was expecting a third child her first reaction was to ask: “Was it planned?” It was not that she was not happy for me, but she wanted to be able to support me if I’d been caught off guard and if my life-plans had been turned upside down by this turn of events. She knew that an unexpected pregnancy would bring with it all kinds of anxieties like – can I/we afford another child? will I/we need a new car? how will this impact on my/our older children? will it make a difference to my/our career? what will other people think? 

Those are the questions and then there are the realities. Even if a pregnancy is planned or greeted with joy it comes with significant discomfort – morning sickness, swollen ankles, and the discomfort of another body inhabiting one’s own. After the birth, there are the sleepless nights, the nappies, and the constant demands not to mention the multitude of accessories that go with infancy.  My pregnancy was planned, as was the new car, but for many people news of pregnancy is not a joyful experience, rather a time of confusion and fear. I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like to know that you are carrying a child and to know that it is the last thing that you want.

Luke’s brief account of the Annunciation carries none of the emotion that one might expect to accompany such momentous news. It is a highly romanticised depiction of an event which seriously understates the terror that an angel would inspire and which ignores the possibility that Mary might have experienced any disquiet at such an unexpected announcement.  Remember, Mary is young and unmarried, far from ready to take on the responsibility of pregnancy and motherhood.  She lives in a culture in which she could be stoned for adultery and, out of the blue, an angel pops by with some shocking, incomprehensible news. “You are favoured by God and by the way, God will demonstrate how favoured you are by making you pregnant in a culture that could stone you to death for being pregnant outside marriage.”  

Note that Mary is not offered a choice, she is simply told how things are. The angel goes on to tell Mary what her son will be, but he gives her no suggestions as to how she might manage the situation – how to break the news to her parents – let alone to Joseph, how to face her neighbours’ contempt and judgment and above all, how she is to manage as a single mother.

From now on Mary’s life will be irrevocably changed (possibly for the worse) and Luke expects us to believe that she simply bowed her head and said: “OK whatever God wants”. I wonder how many women, let alone girls, you know who would be so unperturbed by the angel’s perplexing and terrifying announcement?

While Luke’s account does tell us something about Mary’s humble submission to God’s will, might it not also be challenging us to consider how we respond to interruptions to our plans, asking us to think about how we might adjust, adapt, and even see God’s hand in life-altering events, especially those that at first glance appear to be calamitous. I’m thinking of devastating diagnoses, destructive natural disasters, traumatic ends to relationships, loss of a child, termination of a job, or any number of things for which we do not (cannot) plan, but which dramatically alter our life’s trajectory.

When we receive unwelcome news we usually go through a number of stages – disbelief then fear or anger, and then acceptance or resistance. In my experience, people of faith almost always choose acceptance. No matter how awful the circumstances, we find strength in the knowledge that God is with us and will give us the courage to carry on. We know too that the God who created the universe out of nothing and who brings life from death, is able to transform tragedy into possibility, and “to conceive hope in the midst of every tragic loss.”[1] In retrospect we can see the seeds of new birth in what appeared to be the death of all our hopes and dreams. As our lives take on a completely different direction, we grow in ways that we had never imagined and which, had we continued on our previous trajectory, would have been impossible.

Let me be plain, we do not have a fickle God who inflicts pain and sends disasters to shock us out of our selfish ways, rather God is a very real presence in times of upheaval. God stands with and beside us, ready to pick us up and to walk with us even through the valley of death. Circumstances may force us to radically re-evaluate our lives, which as a consequence of illness or loss are irrevocably change. But, if we are open to the Holy Spirit, we may witness God bringing to birth something completely new and unexpected, that would not have come to fruition without the tragedy that preceded it..

When the angel appeared to Mary, her world was turned upside down. Her initial terror turned to confusion and finally to acceptance. It is her acceptance that life is not going to be the way she planned that opens her to the possibility that the alternative (with God’s help) might be OK, and frees her to get on with the business of living.

Ultimately, we are not in control.  We cannot plan our lives to the last detail.  When things do not go as expect, we have a choice. We can resist change and rail against God and the universe, or we simply bow our heads and, like Mary say “Yes”, put our lives into the hands of the living God, and believie against all evidence to the contrary that our present pain and confusion will bring to birth something new and life-giving. Our “yes” to life’s circumstances, however awful, mirrors Mary’s “yes” to the angel’s awesome news and allows God to bring to birth new possibilities for ourselves and, in some cases, for the world.

Love

            Margaret Wesley (Rector Parish of Ashgrove)

This Christmas, may love be born in you,

As he was in Bethlehem,

To parents unprepared for such a gift

(Since, who could be?)

May love find you unprepared yet willing 

To receive its smiles and tears,

Its painful truths and gentle silences,

Its gifts and sacrifices.

This Christmas, may love be

The awkward guest at your table,

And in the New Year may it take your hand

And lead you into the street to dance with your neighbours.


[1] I am grateful to Dr M.  Craig Barnes for introducing another perspective. https://nationalpres.org/sermons/how-can-this-be/

Change and disruption

November 13, 2021

 

Pentecost 25 – 2021

Mark 13:1-11

Marian Free

 

In the name of the God of our past, present and future. Amen.

Given that that the Bible was written by men in a patriarchal world, a world in which men and women had clearly defined roles and in which pregnancy and childbirth would have been entirely the province of women, it is extraordinary that there are more than a few occasions on which images of pregnancy, childbirth and mothering are used for God and for the journey of faith. Sometimes they are used to describe God’s intimate love and care. They evoke God’s promises – the barren woman will bear seven-fold (Is 54), God’s love – I took them up in my arms (Hos 11), God’s comfort – as a mother comforts her child, God’s compassion – can a mother forget her nursing child and God’s protection – I will be as a bear robbed of her cubs (2 Sam 17).

 

At other times, as today, the pain and the violence of childbirth is used to bring to mind the trauma and disruption that can precede change. This is exemplified in the Song of Hannah (echoed in the Song of Mary) that speaks of upheaval – the bows of the mighty are broken, the powerful are brought down, the poor are raised from the dust and the lowly are lifted up.

 

In our scene from this morning’s gospel the disciples were no doubt expecting Jesus to join them in their admiration of the Temple – after all it was the centre of their faith, the place in which sacrifices were offered to God and to which faithful Jews came for the major festivals of their faith. They must have been completely taken aback by Jesus’ response that not one stone would remain upon another. It would have been completely impossible for them to imagine that within decades of Jesus’ death a new expression of their ancient faith would have been brought to birth and that many of the things that they now considered sacred would not only have been destroyed but would have lost their meaning. How could they conceive that the anointed one, the one for whom they had waited for so long would be the cause of a deep rupture between all that they had known and the future that he was initiating?

 

 

Many of us like the disciples resist change. When everything is going smoothly it is difficult to imagine that there can be any benefit in letting of of the comfortable and familiar. Worse, as our reading suggests, change can be violent and destructive and there are times when the old must be destroyed to allow room for the new to emerge. It can be difficult to see new possibilities while the old structures and the old ways of doing things remain in place and it is often only with hindsight that we can see the benefits that accrued from what had appeared to be a catastrophic event. (Who, for example, would have imagined that a rag-tag bunch of foolish and non-comprehending disciples would have transformed not only their faith, but the whole world along with it? Who could have predicted that anything good could have come out of a pandemic? Yet a bunch of uneducated men and women spread the gospel to the world. And the pandemic has shown us how we can connect without being face-to-face.)

Today’s gospel is a timely reminder that nothing lasts for ever and that even the greatest of edifices can fall. It is also a caution against holding too tightly to the past and of failing to be open to the opportunities offered by the future. 

We are, all of us, on the threshold of change, myself to a future that is not yet fleshed out and you to the adventure of a new period of ministry. It will not be the sort of catastrophic change that our gospel refers to and it will be experienced differently by all of us. At the same time, the future is full of potential and I am confident that any trepidation that we might feel will be more than balanced by a sense of anticipation and excitement as to what that future might hold.

You will have forgotten the disruption that occurred when I (the first woman to have the cure of this Parish) burst on the scene and I am certain that you now take for granted the many changes that have occurred over the last 14 years. There will be a great many things that you will remember as always having been here, or always having been done in a particular way. That will not be true. This is not the Parish I came to 14 years ago. Stalwarts have gone to God and many new faces have joined us. New groups have formed and some have fallen by the wayside. There have been subtle changes to the way we do liturgy and there have been numerous physical changes to both the church and grounds and now we take it for granted that this is how it should be.

That doesn’t mean that this is how it should stay. In the past few weeks, I have become increasingly convinced that the Holy Spirit is present in the timing of this handover, that this is absolutely the right time for another person to take the Parish on the next stage of your journey and that God has wonderful things in store for all of us.

We, like the disciples, are on a journey of discovery, always on the move, always trying to be open to the Spirit and the will of God. No one knows where the road will take us, but we continually leave the past and present behind us to step out in faith, following Jesus, confident that we will  be asked to do more than we are capable of and that we will never be abandoned to face the journey alone.

 

May God bless us all in whatever lies ahead.