The Rev. Jo Nygard Owens: Mary’s Words
Guide us, O God,
by your Word and Spirit,
that in your light we may see light,
in your truth find wisdom,
and in your will discover your peace,
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
I don’t know about you, but I have a bit of liturgical whiplash this morning. Friday night the Cathedral offered their yearly Gospel Christmas service with music that filled every nook and cranny of this building. Yesterday morning the Nave was filled with the giggles of children during our Family Christmas service. And last night the beauty of Christmas Lessons and Carols music and candlelight transported us to the wonder and awe of that first Christmas night. Following all of those services, I greeted attendees with a hearty “Merry Christmas!” as they departed.
And here we are this morning, firmly back in the Advent space due to a quirk of the calendar. Even though it may seem a bit jarring to come to church Sunday morning when it’s Advent, only to return this evening for Christmas Eve, there is something lovely about the two seasons smooshing together–smooshing being the correct theological term for when two separate liturgical seasons collide on one day.
This morning we wait and ponder with Mary, seeking wisdom from her words. This evening we will wonder and rejoice at the birth of a vulnerable baby who came as God-with-us to change the world.
But isn’t this smooshing a bit of what we find in Mary’s story? In a few short verses she moves from “How can this be?” to “Here am I”. The jump between these two phrases is immense, and I wonder how did Mary do it?
“How can this be?” Mary questions after the angel Gabriel’s announcement. “How can this be?”
I don’t know about you, but these are words that I have spoken again and again each time I read the news. When I see images of rubble piles in Gaza that represent thousands of lives lost and hear that Christmas was canceled in the Holy Land. When the war in Ukraine has dragged on for years, and countless struggles around the world are going on everyday without our media reporting on them.
How can this be?
Artist Kelly Latimore wonders the same thing. Latimore is an iconographer, painting the images of saints for others to reflect upon, and we even have a collection of his icons titled “Look for the Helpers” for viewing on the 7th floor.1 Latimore’s most recent icon, released last week, is titled “Christ in the Rubble.” Through his process of holy pondering, Latimore wanted to create more dialogue around the war taking place in Gaza.
At the top of the image are buildings that have been bombed. Some are aflame, others are falling down. Below the buildings are layer upon layer of rubble from the destruction wrought over the last few months. Nestled in among the rubble at the bottom of the painting are Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus. There is worry in Mary’s eyes as she stares at her baby—not the serenity, love and joy we typically picture. Joseph is staring out at the viewer with resignation, weariness, and pleading. And at the very top of the painting, somewhat dampened by smoke from a burning building, is the star that guides the way.
Latimore hopes this image will invite dialogue. He wonders, “How can we shape a culture of Christianity where love truly has no boundaries? How do we create a world where our poor, homeless, refugee, Palestinian Savior – born to a teenage mother and later condemned to death – would be cherished had he been born today.”2
How can this be, indeed.
Maybe you are saying “How can this be?” in your own life. Perhaps you are asking where God is in the midst of a situation that feels unmanageable and hopeless. The angel Gabriel tells Mary that God’s power will be with her. Mary is not alone and you are not alone. God is present with Mary and present with you as well.
Mary doesn’t stay in the hopeless place of “how can it be?” With the angel’s reassurance that she is not alone, Mary moves to a place of hope. Don’t get me wrong, we are not conflating hope with optimism—the cheery thought that everything will work out fine—nor with optimism’s lesser half, toxic positivity.
Now I love a silver lining, and as my friends know I can reframe just about any situation into a positive. But even I know that not all situations can or need to be reframed. So how does hope fit in when the reality of life isn’t a Hallmark card?
This is where I turn to my friend, Presbyterian pastor and writer MaryAnn McKibben Dana for help. In her book, Hope: A User’s Manual, she explores what hope is, what it isn’t, and how we access it. It is not overoptimism or toxic positivity.
Instead, she says, “Hope is wrapped up in what we make real. Hope isn’t what we think. Hope isn’t what we feel. Hope isn’t even what we imagine is possible. Hope is what we do in the face of suffering, pain, and injustice. Hope is what we do in the face of depression’s dull weight or grief’s harsh sting. Hope is what we do.”3
Hope says, “Yes. These are the circumstances. They are difficult, AND there may be something more.” Hope says, “yes, and…”4
You see, MaryAnn wrote another book titled God, Improv and the Art of Living where she introduces improv concepts such as “yes, and…” and how they are helpful in living faithful lives. She says, “The truth is, we’re not in control of our lives, and the unforeseen happens. Plans fall through. People get sick. Marriages end. The plant closes down. Loved ones die. Our job as improvisers is to use our resources to put together a life in the wake of things—maybe not the life we had planned, but a good life, a life with dignity, fashioned out of what’s on hand.”
Yes, the unforeseen has happened, and God will be with you to refashion your life.
I doubt giving birth to the savior of the world was on Mary’s bingo card. I imagine it was the last thing she expected to hear. When she woke up the morning of Gabriel’s visit, Mary most likely had plans to live her life as usual. Draw water, make food, do chores, care for siblings, talk with her friends. Instead, her whole world—and ours—was turned on its head.
But isn’t that how God works? Turning our world on its head?
A highschool classmate of mine, Andrea Lytle Peet, had her world turned on its head. By 2013, she had run a marathon and done 9 triathlons, including a 70.3-mile half Ironman. In May 2014 at the age of 33 she was diagnosed with ALS. She says, “In 4 months I went from the strongest I’d ever been to walking with a cane. So what do you do when you’re told that you’re going to die in the next 2-5 years? That there is no treatment and no cure. And that before you die, you will lose the ability to walk, talk, move, eat, and breathe?”5
At that point, Andrea decided to participate in one more marathon, this time using a recumbent bike. And though she was the last to finish, more than 100 people stayed to cheer her on.
“Since most people with ALS die between 2-5 years, reaching [her] 5th anniversary in May 2019 felt like a huge milestone. But [she] realized there’s a big difference between ‘not dying’ and LIVING. So [she] decided to take on the craziest goal [she] could think of — a marathon in all 50 states. At the time, [she] was at state #7. In May 2022, surrounded by [her] friends and family, on a remote island in Alaska, [she] became the first person with ALS to do 50 marathons in all 50 states.”6
I imagine Andrea said “Yes, I have ALS, a terrible disease with a definitive end. AND, I can do more.”
Not only has Andrea completed a marathon in all fifty states, she’s written a book titled Hope Fights Back. Her hope took form, and in the face of pain and suffering she found a way forward not only for herself but as an inspiration to others.
On this smooshed Advent and Christmas Eve Day, we move from the uncertainty of “How can it be?” to the hope and promise of “Here am I.” There is no perfect time for the Christ to be born, and yet every moment is the perfect moment for God to take on flesh and become Emmanuel, God-with-us.7
Whether you are in the “How can it be?” or the “Here I am” space, I pray that you will draw inspiration from Mary’s words and know that God is with you. Together we are all writing the story of God’s people-a story of presence and hope and love that can change the world. Amen.
1 https://cathedral.org/visit-tour/latimore-exhibit/
2 https://kellylatimoreicons.com/collections/downloadables/products/christ-in-the-rubble
3 Hope: A Users Manual by MaryAnn McKibben Dana. p.39
4 Concept of “Yes, and…” borrowed from MaryAnn McKibben Dana’s book God, Improv and the Art of Living
5 https://www.teamdrea.org/about/
6 https://www.teamdrea.org/about/
7 Inspired by the poem, “The Risk of Birth” https://www.madeleinelengle.com/tag/poetry/