To see Christ coming
Sermon on the Fourth Sunday of Advent 2020
at the Church of the Holy Trinity and St Tudno’s Church, in the Ministry Area of Bro Tudno
The Ministry Area’s order of service is adapted for the pandemic, and includes a poem in addition to the Old Testament Reading and the Holy Gospel. The order of service can be found here.
To see the Annunciation at Holy Trinity, you have to look behind you.
We heard the story of the Annunciation — Gabriel’s visit to Mary in Nazareth to proclaim that she will bear a son, the Son of the Most High, and will name him Jesus — in the Gospel and in our poem this morning. But to see the Annunciation, to see the story, we must look behind us; and there they are, high on the left hand-side of the west window — the work of A. L. Moore for St Augustine’s, Cheadle Heath in 1893, transported here 120 years later. There’s Gabriel, a comforting left hand extended; “do not be afraid.” There’s Mary, kneeling, “the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” And there’s a somewhat dramatic descending Holy Dove, almost a divebombing Llandudno seagull. “The Holy Spirit will come upon you; therefore the child born of you will be called Son of God.”
To see the Annunciation at Holy Trinity, you have to look behind you.
Our original Annunciation story-teller is Luke. And in the passage that we heard, beneath the surface flutter of angels’ wings and Mary’s meekness, there are three things actually going on: fulfilment, puzzlement and unity [drawn from Eric Franklin’s commentary].
Fulfilment — The angel says of this child, “He will be great, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David.” Long ago, Nathan the prophet had prophesied to King David that “your house and your kingdom shall be made sure for ever” — that all would be well for Israel — that the Lord would accomplish this. The books of the Old Testament are loud with prophetic visions of what will be; they’re heavy with yearning for that new time; they’re rich with the promise that God will save. And here, says the angel, is the fulfilment of that prophecy, yearning and promise. “There was / Is / Has been / And will be,” our poem begins this morning. “There was / Is / Has been / And will be” a God who hears our yearnings, our longings. “There was / Is / Has been / And will be” a God who promises that all shall be well, that salvation comes, that the earth will be refreshed, that this darkness will not last.
Fulfilment. But also puzzlement. “How can this be?” Mary asks of the angel. How is this fulfilment? How are these ways God’s ways? How can I be part of it? We know, looking back, that this is how it must be — that this is how salvation comes, not through kings and conquering armies, but “One single / Simple / Open soul” at a time, touched by the living presence of God, who lives and breathes, who bleeds and lives, next to us. But this was not the fulfilment that prophecy, yearning and promise had prepared Mary for. And that puzzlement, that surprise at God’s new ways is there at the heart of the Gospel; it is part of our Good News.
Fulfilment. Puzzlement. But also unity. “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy.” From the very beginning, this ancient thing promised of old, this puzzling thing that disturbs our preconceptions, this thing is wholly of God; this is the complete action of the Holy Spirit; this is earth and heaven in unity of being — this is life inspired, enfleshed, conceived by God’s whole power. We can tie ourselves in knots about what the virgin birth means — we can be delighted by the magic of it, or disturbed by the connotations of overpowering; we can believe in it or struggle with it. But the point is that here, at the beginning of God made flesh, God is completely involved. “There was / Is / Has been / And will be” “That point in time / Wherein / One single / Simple / Open soul / Received / The potency / Of the creative whole.”
To see the Annunciation, you have to look behind you.
It’s noticeable that the author of the Gospel of Luke wrote the opening chapters — the nativity stories, including the story of the Annunciation — last. Luke had written of Jesus teaching and healing, of Jesus persecuted and crucified, or Jesus resurrected and ascended; Luke had even written the chapters of the book of Acts about the early years of the Church in Jerusalem and Paul’s journeys; Luke had written all of that before coming back to the story’s beginning. Luke had to get to the end of the story and look backward before he could tell his story of the Annunciation with its themes fulfilment, puzzlement and unity. Luke was confident by then that this was the fulfilment of what had been promised; he knew that that this fulfilment would cause puzzlement, misunderstanding, conflict, passion; and he had seen, time and again, the action of the Holy Spirit — the life of Christ and disciples and followers inspired, enfleshed, conceived by God’s whole power. And, looking back, he sees those threads of fulfilment, puzzlement and unity in his story of the woman and the angel. “There was / Is / Has been / And will be” “That point in time / Wherein / One single / Simple / Open soul / Received / The potency / Of the creative whole.”
To see the Annunciation, you have to look behind you.
Religion isn’t history or story or beauty or poetry. Religion, Christianity, isn’t Scripture; it isn’t even Jesus. Religion, Christianity, is our participation in God’s ongoing creation, with God our first light, our measure and our destiny. It is us being and becoming the Body of Christ.
It’s been such a hard year. For some of us the burden will have been almost unbearable. But dare before the year’s end — dare during one of these long, dark evenings — to look back at this year gone. Your questions are: what did I yearn for before God that was fulfilled this year; where was I surprised by God this year, when the unexpected, when things or people that I had closed my mind to, became vessels of hope and grace; and when did I know this year that God was with me, that this was the right thing to do, that God’s hand was in mine along this difficult way.
Look back. Look back. For that way you’ll see Christ coming.
