The Annunciation

The feast of the Annunciation marks the visit of the angel Gabriel to the Virgin Mary, during which he told her that she would be the mother of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. It is celebrated on 25 March most years, how ever this year it is transferred to 31 March.

More importantly, since it occurs 9 months before the birth of Jesus on Christmas Day, the Annunciation marks the actual incarnation of Jesus Christ - the moment that Jesus was conceived and that the Son of God became the son of the Virgin.

The festival has been celebrated since the 5th century AD.

The festival celebrates two things:
God's action in entering the human world as Jesus in order to save humanity
Humanity's willing acceptance of God's action in Mary's freely given acceptance of the task of being the Mother of God

The Annunciation and the liturgy
The story of the Annunciation has produced three important liturgical texts, the Ave Maria, the Angelus, and the Magnificat.
The angel's greeting to Mary, which is traditionally translated as "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee," (in Latin Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum) is the opening of the Ave Maria, and a part of the Rosary prayers.
The Angelus consists of three Ave Marias, together with some additional material. It is said three times a day in some Churches.
The Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55) is the poem with which Mary responds to the Annunciation and celebrates the power of God.

Political implications of the Annunciation
Some feminist theologians find the story of the Assumption portrays women as unacceptably submissive and as colluding with the idea that "women's only claim to fame is the capacity to have babies." They interpret Mary's behaviour as demonstrating passive subordination to male power. Simone de Beauvoir wrote:
For the first time in human history the mother kneels before her son: she freely accepts her inferiority. This is the supreme masculine victory, consummated in the cult of the Virgin.
Other writers have a different interpretation. They don't see Mary as powerless before God, but instead as a woman who makes a free choice to accept God's task for her - a task she could have refused. Mary's acceptance of the role of servant is not, they teach, demeaning, and they point out that Jesus also regarded himself as a servant. And taking up the example of the disciples, they see Mary, through her act of faith, exercising her right to believe what she wants and to cooperate with God in his plan of salvation - a plan that he cannot carry out without her.
Other writers suggest that the story of the Annunciation emphasises the status of women, since in the Incarnation God enlists the help of a woman to create a child of vast importance, and gives men no part to play in this important work.
And in the Magnificat itself, Mary becomes the herald of Salvation, and takes Christianity into the spheres of politics and justice as the first spokesperson for the marginalised people who were the focus of Jesus, and are now the focus of Christians and the Church.

The Bible story of the Annunciation
The story is told in Luke's Gospel, 1: 26-38.
In the sixth month, 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 favoured! The Lord is with you."
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 favour with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end."
"How will this be," Mary asked the angel, "since I am a virgin?"
The angel answered, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to 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 was said to be barren is in her sixth month. For nothing is impossible with God."
"I am the Lord's servant," Mary answered. "May it be to me as you have said." Then the angel left her.

The Second Sunday of Easter

Acts 2:14a, 22-32; Psalm 16; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20:19-31

The journey to Easter is one filled with questioning and reconciliation as we follow the narrative that brings us to the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. These stories provide many examples of what God would have us do and be through the living example of his son, Jesus. We even experience through Jesus the mystery of belief complete with its companions: questioning, doubt, and obedience.

The mystery and complexity of belief is woven throughout scripture. They are at the heart of what it means to be Christian, making the stories of mystery and belief essential for our own understanding of faith and challenging our ability to share that part of ourselves with everyone we encounter in obedience.

Aside from the miracle of creation, for which there were no witnesses, most of the stories in scripture invite us into believing through the relationships of others. Take for example the mystery shrouding Mary’s conception or the miracle for Elizabeth both as she recognizes the child Mary bears to be Jesus and as her own unborn child leaps – already going ahead, announcing Jesus. Or consider the miracle of Lazarus or the widow’s child being raised up from death. Or the healing of the lepers, the blind, or people otherwise afflicted. Or the faith of the Syrophoenician woman that her child could be healed if only Jesus would acknowledge her. Or the Samaritan woman at the well whose only task was to draw water but gained new life instead.

All of these are fine examples of what we might want to explain away with reasoning, but in reality they require our belief – a much greater task. Just ask Thomas, who, unlike the rest of the apostles, was not given the opportunity to see Jesus when he first appeared showing them his wounds and acknowledging their disbelief and wonder. Or ask the two apostles in the gospel of Mark who traveled on a road and ate with Jesus before they recognized their teacher. And what about “the disciple whom Jesus loved” who went into the tomb following Peter and saw and believed? Thomas had been known for so much more, but somehow all anyone remembers him for now is being the one who doubted.

What would people say about you? What do you need to “see” to believe? And do people you encounter know by your actions what you believe?

The gospel reading encourages us to be faithful and believe, to trust. There is a temptation then to say that doubting is bad and belief is good, but I would challenge that perspective. Certainly we encounter doubt every day in our lives. But the presence of trust allows us to process information so that even when we cannot see, we can believe. We seldom have unequivocal proof of anything. So how can we ever be certain?

Doubt and faith are not opposites. The opposite of faith in God is not doubt, but believing in something or someone else. The faith journey is filled with doubt, and maybe doubt needs to be present before belief or faith can be realized. Times of questioning can actually lead to deeper relationship with God and reveal new aspects of understanding what we believe. Periods of questioning open our minds to imagine infinite possibilities with God.

When left on our own, we cannot imagine how God would love us, let alone forgive us. Faced with the grandeur of the universe, we wonder at God’s concern over us as little specks in this diverse creative process. We doubt the usefulness of our gifts in a world where it seems there is so much to do. Our doubt becomes the barrier to the fullness of believing and faithfulness. It becomes the stumbling block rather than the passage to a better understanding of our faith.

But when we allow doubt to be a gift from God that opens us up to deeper levels of understanding and closer relationship to God and all God created, we appreciate that faith and doubt are our companions. They coexist, allowing us to see the many paradoxes of God in Christ: human and divine; with us and transcendent; dead and risen, present in the bread and wine. The Easter experience of resurrection challenges any box we might use to confine the God of infinite possibilities. The gospel uses Thomas to demonstrate that God cannot fit into any box and invites us into the imaginative and creative power of God still loose in the world.

Some 2000 years later, Christians all over the world believe, because we know and experience the realness of the stories of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. It would certainly have been nice to have been there and known Jesus – to see. Today we are given ample opportunities to see the face of God all around us. We only need to believe, and then we will see.

Jesus calls those who do not need to see to believe “blessed.” And then he commissions us by saying, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” He said this to the gathered disciples and then sent them into the world breathing the Holy Spirit upon them.

The First Letter of Peter reminds us, “Although you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, for you are receiving the outcome of your faith, the salvation of souls.”

We are tempted to believe that these readings are about faith and doubt, but we must not forget the rest of the story – the commissioning. Blessed are we who believe without seeing and receive the Holy Spirit. Blessed are we who rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, sharing these gifts with everyone we encounter. Together with the apostles we are captured by God’s living presence, imagining the infinite possibilities in creating a world that believes even without seeing.

Our faith in Christ, and his resurrection allows us to live as witnesses to the rich diversity of creation as God continues to be present in all that is around us. We rejoice in receiving the power of the Holy Spirit, applying God’s abundant love in ways that bring the fullness of God’s glory, in the presence of the Kingdom, here and now, through our actions.

In this season of Easter let us all come together as companions in resurrection, approaching our doubts as an invitation on our faith journey to believe without seeing.

Easter Day

We come together this Easter Day to celebrate. Christ is risen, and we affirm: "The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!" We know that this is a happy day, a day to put on our best clothes, a day to plan a wonderful meal, a day to come to church with the whole family, a day to sing glad hymns. But the people we encounter at the tomb in today's Gospel didn't know that. They weren't having springtime thoughts about flowers coming from the dead earth, or caterpillars turning into butterflies. The thought of eggshells cracking open for baby chicks, or of those prolific little bunnies as signs of new life, did not enter their minds. That's because they were still in the middle of the story.

Mary Magdalene was the first one at the tomb that Sunday morning, according to the Gospel. It was dark when she arrived. She didn't come to check and see if Jesus' body was still there. She came, we can only suppose, to grieve. Probably she wasn't sleeping well. After all, the whole world had come crashing down around her head. She had centred all her hope and trust and love in Jesus Christ, and now he had been cruelly executed. When she arrived at the tomb she found that the stone that sealed the tomb had been rolled away. Running to two of his friends, she said, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him."

Enter Peter and "the other disciple" into the story. (Most people think that this other disciple is John, since he is referred to as "the one whom Jesus loved.") Peter and John ran to the tomb. They saw the linens, and apparently had some notion about what had gone on, but all they did, at least in this Gospel (John), was go back home. We still don't know a great deal about what their thoughts were, except that John, at least, "saw and believed." Peter and John seem to have "cameo parts" in the story. It tells us much more about Mary Magdalene than about these two disciples.

After Peter and John had gone home, Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. She still thought that someone had taken away the body, and she didn't know where to find it. No wonder the angels asked, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She was asked the same question by Jesus, whom she at first took to be the gardener. She didn't recognize Jesus, the very one she was looking for, because her mind was fixed on finding a dead body. Not until Jesus spoke to her, called her by name, did she know him. At last she had found her Lord. She had come to the tomb with grief in her heart, but her weeping had been turned into joy.

And now here we are, nearly 2,000 years later. We come to church today to celebrate the Resurrection. And, yes, we are dressed up and we are singing those glad hymns, and very probably we will have a good lunch in a little while. But really, aren't we like Mary Magdalene in many ways? Don't we, too, carry around a lifetime of grief in our souls? Perhaps it is the loss of loved ones that causes us grief. Perhaps it is the frustrations and disappointments we have suffered in our lives. Perhaps it is the weight of our own sins, the bad choices we have made in our lives. Perhaps we bear the wounds of pain inflicted by others. Perhaps physical ailments weigh us down. Yes, we believe that Christ is risen. We know we have cause for great joy this Easter Day. But the grief is there, too. However, like Mary, we have a Friend who understands, a Friend who calls us by name. Today, as we celebrate the Resurrection, we can put down our grief at the feet of Jesus, and when he calls our name, we can answer, "Rabbouni! Teacher!"

And finally, look at what Mary did next. Following the Lord's command, she went to the disciples and said: "I have seen the Lord." And she told them everything that Jesus had said to her.

We who gather in this place also see the Lord today. Do we recognize him? We hear him call us by name. Jesus is made known to us as we read the Holy Scriptures, as we receive the Body and Blood, and as we enjoy the presence of our brothers and sisters. And, like Mary, we are called to share with others the Good News of God in Jesus Christ. At the end of this liturgy, we will be dismissed to go forth. Perhaps we need a special form of the dismissal today: "Go in peace and tell the world that you have seen the Lord. Alleluia! Alleluia!"

Ezekiel 37.1-14

Many of us hearing today’s Old Testament reading from Ezekiel – that rich and vivid story about the valley of dry bones – instantly remember the words of a song learned in childhood. These words:

The toe bone connected to the foot bone,
The foot bone connected to the ankle bone,
The ankle bone connected to the leg bone,
The leg bone connected to the knee bone,
The knee bone connected to the thigh bone,
The thigh bone connected to the hip bone,
The hip bone connected to the back bone,
The back bone connected to the shoulder bone,
The shoulder bone connected to the neck bone,
The neck bone connected to the head bone,

Less easy to recall, however, are the song’s opening words:

God called Ezekiel one morning,
“Go down and prophesy.”
Ezekiel taught the Zion the powers of God,
And the bones begin to rise.
We’re going to walk around with-a dry bones.
Why don’t you rise and hear the word of the Lord?

The words, of course, come from an old spiritual. There can be little wonder why it emerged out of the experience of African Americans in the southern United States. It welled up from the midst of a people trapped in that dark period of history when legalised slavery still prevailed – when whites stole the labour of captive Africans, who as slaves, mostly embraced the Christian religion of those who enslaved them.

It is easy to understand why those who had, against their wills, been removed to North America found in the stirring words of Ezekiel great cause for hope – easy to understand how they translated that imagery into a song that could help them walk as human beings in the cotton fields of oppression. They understood, like no others, the experience of Ezekiel’s people.

The Israelites of old were also a people enslaved by foreign masters. They had been forcibly removed from their native land into exile, far from their beloved home and accustomed ways, compelled to toil in the service of a conquering nation. Though alive, they felt like they were dead. They were a people without hope. Like a nation of dry bones, they cried out in their misery as all enslaved people must.

In today’s Old Testament lesson, we hear the prophet Ezekiel sharing in vivid detail how God carried him in a vision to a valley full of dry bones – bones symbolic of the rotted bodies of a subjugated people. Then, as the prophet watched in astonishment, the bones were covered with muscle and flesh, and once more encased in skin. They were alive again!

Then Ezekiel prophesied as God instructed him. He told the people of Israel, enslaved in exile, that this vision was God’s way of saying that their lives, all but dead from depression, distress and despair, would have breath put back in them and flesh and muscle returned to their bones. They would be a nation reborn. For those slaves of old, those Israelites separated from home and in bondage, Ezekiel’s vision gave new hope as they dreamed of a time when they would once again be free and whole and could return to their beloved Jerusalem.

There is little wonder why African American slaves embraced this story from the Old Testament as their own. And despite their misery, as they suffered cruel injustice, they gained the same hope as the ancient Israelites. They knew that God gave them a reason to live despite the fact that they were enslaved; a reason to live despite the fact that in spirit, emotion and self-esteem they were mere skeletons of the powerful men and women they had been in Africa; a reason to live despite how often they thought their fate was doomed; a reason to live despite how much they felt they were as good as dead.

Despite all this, their faith gave them the hope of hopes, empowering them to sing with joy, happiness, and trust – to sing a truth that they would indeed rise like the dry bones of Ezekiel’s forsaken valley.

But what is the lesson for those of us who live in a day when human slavery is considered unthinkably obscene? For us, not forced into exile or bound in chains, what can we learn?

Above all, we can recall, as our Lenten discipline reminds us, that we, too, are often subjugated by strong powers – the powers of evil – leaving us enslaved in sin: the sin of selfishness; the sin of neglecting those in need; the sin of lying, cheating, and stealing; the sin of greed and prejudice; the sin of ignoring God again and again.

Such spiritual enslavement turns us away from God’s ways and separates us from our Saviour. It leaves us in a land as desolate as Ezekiel’s valley of dry bones – spiritually dead, mere skeletons who have lost our religious muscle and skin of faith.

What hope is there for us who have erred and strayed from God’s way like lost sheep? The hope is that which Ezekiel envisioned. In our own barren valleys of the soul, we can follow them, gaining strength by realizing there is renewal. We can find new life for these dry bones of ours. We can find the will to move beyond spiritual despair and to embrace the hope that lies in a loving and forgiving God – a God who takes our pitiful spiritual skeletons and gives them flesh and muscle, who takes the spiritually dried-out bones of our faith and gives them life in all abundance.

The African slaves, brothers and sisters in Christ, reach out to us in this generation, from a terrible time in the past to take heart from the word of the prophet. They remind us that God treats us the same as those dry bones of Ezekiel, offering us rebirth, again, and again, and again. When we stumble, our Saviour is there, calling us out of the slavery we have created for ourselves into the light of love and forgiveness. They remind us that as we, through self examination and rising up to hear God’s word, find the Lenten valley of our sinful dry bones, we can, through repentance and the grace of God, go walking with lives restored.