2
Sam. 7: 11-11,16 Nathan tells David that
God is not concerned with a house for himself; he will make of David a great
nation.
Roms.
16: 25-27 Glory to God who reveals
himself.
Luke 1: 47-55 Annunciation
O Key of David, and sceptre of the House of Israel;
that opens and no one shuts, and shuts, and no one opens;
come and bring the prisoner out of the prison-house,
the one who sits in darkness and the shadow of death.
I
wonder what you’re looking forward to this Christmas … That might seem a somewhat insensitive thing
to ask because, for many, it seems that Christmas has been ruined and, for some, this pandemic has been ruinous.
But, in a way, that’s what makes the question ‘what are you looking
forward to’ even more important.
The words I used to begin this sermon were taken from today’s Antiphon sung before and after the Magnificat at Evening Prayer. They’re part of what are called the seven ‘Great ‘O’’s, affirmations of hope and faith taken from the Old Testament concerning times when Israel – the people of Israel – were experiencing terrible suffering, and we can use them to express our own hopes and longings at this time. And whilst all of them emerged at times of profound need none are simply expressions of any superficial hope – they touch into some of the most profound desires human beings have: we desire Wisdom, an enlightened Leader, a Sign, Key, Enlightener, King – and the final desire provides the focus for the most important of all, which has become a popular Advent hymn, ‘O come, O come, Emmanuel’. So, again, I wonder what you long for this Christmas? For Christians it has to be ‘for Christ’. For Christ to come with the gift of Wisdom; for Christ my Leader whom I desire to recognise by the Signs he offers; for Christ who can enlighten everyone us and whom all nations will acclaim as their King.
Today’s antiphon uses the symbol of Christ as the ‘key’ for which we long, the key which will unlock the ‘prison-house’ in which we dwell. That metaphor has particular relevance at a time when many must feel as if they are imprisoned in their homes, and our longing must be that they will turn to Christ who is the key to their freedom. No, he won’t let them roam freely and risk the health of themselves or others! We long for the key that will release us from our fears, the key that will give me the freedom I need which will give me more than can comes from watching endless, mindless game shows or entertainment programmes on TV; more life than can be found via the internet. So, today, we cry – ‘release me from my prison!’
ANNUNCIATION
Today’s
gospel reading also reminds us of another longing – Mary’s longing to do God’s
will. We’re
reminded of the confusion that can accompany our longings and the trust and
faith we need to have when we express those longings to God.
You may have noticed that in the long opening chapter to St. Luke’s gospel he records not just one but two annunciations. The familiar one we’ve just heard and, a few verses beforehand, an angelic annunciation to a man, Zachariah, concerning the birth of another boy, your heavenly Patron, St. John the Forerunner. But there’s a great difference between the two, for Zachariah heard the angel, doubted the message and was struck dumb whereas Mary questioned the angel – she didn’t doubt what she heard but wanted clarification: ‘how can this be?’
It’s
clear that Mary had long desired to do God’s will – isn’t that what we all desire? But she could never have anticipated what
that might involve. Becoming the
God-bearer! How can that be? I’m too young, old, the wrong gender,
nationality, social class and so on. But
her response, in the end, is another reminder during this pandemic how we all need
to recall that Jesus invites us to join with Mary and pray: ‘thy will be done’. That’s what Mary placed her trust in after she
pondered the angelic visitation - "nothing is impossible to God". She did not respond with scepticism or
cynicism: she simply asked for clarification.
And because she listened with trust she was able to "speak" –
give birth to – the Word of God promised from the beginning of time.
NEW
BEGINNINGS
We
stand at the threshold of the Mystery to which she gave birth; the threshold of
a future about which she knew nothing for certain. We also stand on the threshold of an
uncertain future; next month the UK will ‘go it alone’ when new possibilities
are said to be on the horizon. It’s the
month when vaccines might gradually allow ‘normal life’ to start again; the
month of new beginnings. Mary, too,
lived in just a world full of uncertainties – her country occupied by foreign
troops and an alien military government and, no doubt, all the ‘natural’ disasters that can occur. But, in the midst of all
that, she did what people of faith have always done. She sought to remain faithful to God and, in
doing so, the Word of God came to her and formed in her. And that Word, we believe, holds the key to
life in all its fullness, the key to a deep sense of inner freedom from all
that binds us.
When I was a child, and long before I became a Christian, both my parent’s mothers’ lived with us. Each day one of them would excuse herself from watching television in the evening and go to her room to read and pray. Now, with the wisdom of the years, I know why she did that – and any of us can encounter the Word of Life, the Word of God, by reading the bible each day. And, like Mary, spending time in meditating on the Word. That can make all the difference.
CHRISTMAS
As we approach, once again, the days of Christmas this crisis is providing an
opportunity to consider how much the trappings of the season have blinded us to
the gift they are meant to celebrate.
Certainly, the virus can have a more profound effect than the bodily
sickness it brings – it can imprison us.
But we have the key to our freedom – Christ, the key which was
prophesied would unlock the way to life.
And others can have that gift as
well, if they would ask for another gift - faith in him this Christmas. He is the perfect gift and every one of us
has the seed of that gift within us, the seed of new life, just as Mary had the
seed of God within her womb. As a man I
can never know the wonder, the joy, the pain and all that comes to a woman who
is pregnant with child, but that doesn’t mean I cannot know what it’s like to
be pregnant with Life. Regardless of our
age, gender, ethnicity or disability we can all know what it’s like to be pregnant with Christ. To have faith, trust and hope that comes with
a great “Yes!” to being released from the shackles of death as we stand on the
verge, again, of that amazing thing we call life.
MARY’S
YES
Today’s
gospel reading invites us to step back from the frenzy of these days and
reflect on what it is we’re about to celebrate.
We might have a deep and understandable sense of loss that we can’t
meet with families and friends. And
we might find ourselves succumbing to nostalgic feelings of loss as we know we won’t
be able to enjoy many of the trappings of the season – not least that we can’t sing
carols. So it’s important to recall
that our first Reading from the second book of the prophet Samuel reminds us
that God is not to be found in any particular, familiar place – whether that be
in a grand Temple or traditional festivities.
We may not be able to celebrate in the ways we would like, ways with which
we are familiar and ways which can be so re-assuring. But – God is where we are, travelling with us
through life’s wildernesses. In Jesus
God offers us the key to life and we can Jesus wherever we are.
CONCLUSION
At
times like this I often turn to the poets for help. Today I’ll leave you with a poem by Malcolm
Guite who, until August, was chaplain to Girton College, Cambridge. He has
written a series based on the Great ‘O’s, and this is the one he wrote for today:
Even in the
darkness where I sit
And huddle in the midst of misery
I can remember freedom, but forget
That every lock must answer to a key,
That each dark clasp, sharp and intricate,
Must find a counter-clasp to meet its guard,
Particular, exact and intimate,
The clutch and catch that meshes with its ward.
I cry out for the key I threw away
That turned and over turned with certain touch
And with the lovely lifting of a latch
Opened my darkness to the light of day.
O come again, come quickly, set me free
Cut to the quick to fit, the master key.
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