Scripture: Luke 1:26-38

Sermon “The Annunciation” Rev. Rali Weaver

If you grew up Catholic, or eastern Orthodox or almost any Christian Tradition other than Unitarian you are probably quite familiar with the story of the annunciation that I read to you this morning and you probably already know that this Sunday is not Annunciation Sunday. In fact even if I had preached this sermon next Sunday as originally planned we still would be discussing the Annunciation on the wrong day and the message might have seemed out of place because even if you can forget trying to figure out how a unmarried virgin can get pregnant- there is absolutely no way anyone – not even a virgin—not even if it is the biggest miracle yet—nobody could have a baby without a period of gestation before the birth.

This is why the Annunciation is traditionally celebrated in March, offering a proper 9-month time frame before a new life can be born.

It seems fitting to remember the time between fertilization and birth because preparation is a big part of the story of Advent. Giving our hearts time to prepare for what is to come. Giving our minds time to open in to the miracle- not only of the birth of God- but of the possibility that peace could be born on the earth at all.

Just as seeds need the cold of winter to properly germinate our bodies and our spirits need a period of darkness before we can fully embrace the light of possibility. I would argue that time of emptiness is always necessary to make the space for something new to begin.

One not so clean example of this is what happens in every home in the world. As some of you know I made my way thru seminary cleaning houses. Having cleaned more than 1000 houses in 3 years I think of myself as a sort of expert cleaner and from this place of expertise I can tell you one thing for sure. No matter how hard you clean a house, no matter how clean it gets when you are through, it will, I promise you get dirty again because the space you make by cleaning leaves room for new dirt to fill in.

When we make space new things come in.

Sure sometimes it is just new dirt- but what other possibilities might come in if we leave open the space for them to enter?

Of course no matter how much we try to get rid of it dirt is a part of the natural order of things.

At this time of year as we approach the darkest day these holidays seem to want us to focus only on purity and light but I can tell you for sure that darkness is a part of the natural order of things too.

Darkness can bring relief from the blinding sun, from scorching heat, and when we are asleep it can bring us relief from exhausting labor. The darkness of night signals a time for rest. The darkness of winter is a time for hibernation, for the earth to sleep. The darkness and the wilderness are at the heart of the creativity from which promises of new life and possibility are born.

The best ideas grow in the dark mystery, they form in our unconscious they form when we wrestle with ideas without a map, and without knowing where they are going until one day they suddenly arrive.

Eggs must incubate before they are hatched and every baby needs a period of gestation before it is born.

Most new inventions and great works of art and music are born only after a long period of hatching.

I recognize that entering the darkness is not easy.

But I wonder without the darkness, without waiting and even without the winter what light and beauty might we miss?

In my meditation room I keep a little glass egg where I can see it. This egg serves as my reminder that even when I am having a bad day-- even in the difficult moments there are infinite prospects for goodness within the world and that each moment is pregnant with possibility and anything is possible with time. 

When I stop trying to make sense of how Mary could have been a pregnant virgin-- or how Jesus could be a descendant of the house of David if Joseph was not biologically his father, I know that the story of the annunciation is about possibilities too. 

As Luke tells it, the very first thing that the Angel Gabriel does is give Mary a new name, “Most Favored One”. So in some ways this story is a naming ceremony and naming ceremonies always take place at the beginning of a new life. 

Yet this naming is frightening to Mary. What could it mean to be most favored by God? And still despite her fear, Mary remains open to the possibilities. When Gabriel tells her she will bear a son, Mary doesn’t say, “This can’t be I am not married” which might have ended things right there. Instead she says, “How can this be since I have no husband?” Instead of responding with an automatic “NO”, Mary stays open to the possibility. Despite the facts, it could still happen, Mary could conceive a child. Perhaps even in ways she had not yet imagined.

 How many times do we think of all the reasons something can’t happen instead of holding tight to the faith that despite all the obstacles maybe it can? 

One example of this from my own life happened on December 23, 1992. I was living in North Carolina at the time and I was headed home to my father’s house in New York for Christmas. I had packed up my car and spent my last day of work at East End Elementary School in Durham, North Carolina. After a few very difficult months where I had been bitten and punched by students because I did not have enough help in my classroom, and then threatened by a principal who was later fired, I had quit my job, filled up my car with everything I owned except for furniture and left town.

I was emotionally empty. I was fiscally broken. I only had only enough money for tolls and gas to get me to New York. I had packed what food I had in my refrigerator to eat. I didn’t have a job lined up and I didn’t have AAA.

I was feeling pretty down about failing at my job, and being unemployed and I was longing to move back to the only place on earth that I felt really safe, New England, more specifically, Portland Maine. Only like I said I had very little money, no job and I didn’t have a place to live. All I had was my car, everything in it and my father’s house to go to for Christmas.

It was dark, about 8:00 at night before I left Raleigh. It was two days before Christmas and I was tired and alone and scared about my future.

I had driven about 2 hours outside of Raleigh in Dinwiddie, Virginia when my car made a loud clanking noise (clunk, clunk, clunk) and skidded to a stop at the side of the road. I got out of the car and opened the hood. There were no street lights on that section of the highway and I had no flashlight. I was in complete darkness. I couldn’t see a thing.

I checked and I did have a full tank of gas, and I had had the oil changed just before I left. Everything should have been fine. But I tried my key again and nothing worked.

I stood there at the side of the road and I said to whoever could hear me “What do I do now? What do I do now?”

And just a few minutes later an enormous 18 wheeler pulled over.

We all hear terrible stories about single women traveling alone and getting picked up on the side of the road at night. I t could have been terrible. But something inside me told me to trust that driver and so I got in. And that kind driver drove me 50 miles or more from Dinwiddie to Richmond where he finally helped me to find a tow truck operator to drive back with me that 50 miles to tow my car to Richmond early in the morning of Christmas eve.

I had no money for a hotel, and (in these days before a cell phones and before my Dad would agree to get an answering machine) I kept trying to call my father from pay phones all along the way but I couldn’t reach him.

Then in my desperation I remembered that my mother (who died a year and half earlier) had a childhood friend who lived in Richmond. Ignoring all my general rules of propriety I picked up the pay phone at 1 am and I called Gwen.

She picked up right away. She knew exactly who I was. She offered to pick me up and gave me a place to stay. Early into the morning we had a wonderful (if unplanned) visit and then a few hours sleep.

At nine am the next morning I called the tow truck operator and spoke with the mechanic. He said I had blown a hole in the side of my engine the size of his fist (probably due to an oil leak) and that it couldn’t be repaired. The tow truck operator got on the phone again and said he needed the parts for a Toyota Tercel and would take the car in trade for the towing fee. It was hard to let go of my car, my only asset, but I didn’t have a choice.

I tried my Dad again and finally reached him. He agreed to rent me a car so that I could get my things to his house. Gwen took me to get the rental car.

All of my things fit into the rental car except my old car and a toaster oven which the mechanic said would make a perfect Christmas gift for his wife.

By 11:00 am on Christmas eve I was back on the road in a rental car and headed north again driving the 7 hours left to get to my Father’s house in time for Christmas.

And you know what -- I made it.

I am pretty sure that if at any moment I had given way to the fear or the loneliness I was feeling-- things might have been more difficult for me. For some unexplainable reason I kept just expecting things to work out and letting go of things so that they could.

I had to let go of my expectations about my job. I had to let go of my expectation that I was going to arrive home in the way I had planned. I had to let go of my general rules of propriety and call a near stranger at 1 am in the morning. I had to let go of the car I had just finished paying off three months before and I had to let go of my toaster oven.

In letting go I left the room for people to help me and for something new to come in. And you know what in less than a month I was relocated back to Portland, Maine, had found a job and a (beat up old) car and was saving for the security deposit on an apartment while I slept on friend’s couches.

In looking back I realize that it was necessary for me to let go of that baggage to make room for new possibilities. It was from that moment of emptiness and uncertainty-- when I had no keys on my key chain---when I felt as though I had no chance of success – it was from that moment of loss I made room for a new life to enter in.

In the same way that Mary does--we all must let go in order to allow life to begin anew in us.

The Angel tells Mary “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you”. 

I like to imagine that every pregnant woman feels this spirit, this rush of emotion at being caught up in something bigger than her self, filled with the possibilities of the life inside her. 

But I don’t think this story is just for pregnant women. If we allow it the Annunciation serves as a reminder for all of us to trust in the mysterious presence of the divine that surrounds us and moves through our lives in ways we cannot even imagine even in the darkest times.

The Angel goes on to tell Mary that even her relative Elizabeth who is old and barren will bear a child- Reminding all of us that with faith that anything is possible. 

For Mary, becoming pregnant out of wedlock was probably about the worst possible scenario.

What if Joseph, finding her with child had rejected her? 

How could a scorned woman with a child survive in that time? 

The miracle as I see it is that with all of the millions of reasons that Mary might have had to turn Gabriel’s proposal down, she says YES. 

It is Mary’s yes that transfigures this story.

It is her YES that changes the whole scene.

For it is not ‘God through the Holy Spirit” that alone can create this miracle of life, it is Mary’s willingness,

her participation,

and her Yes that make it possible.

In the light of Mary’s Yes -- the Annunciation becomes a reminder,

not only, that the world is full of possibilities,

and not only that many things are possible if we remain open to the great mysteries amidst the darkness,

but most importantly that we must consciously and willingly participate with our faith,

we must say YES.

And what Mary’s consent does is recast the story of power. 

In the Annunciation-- instead of ordering Mary around --the powerful God of Israel is waiting for her answer. 

And perhaps that is the true mystery of Advent,

the fact that the creative life force is waiting for our answer too,

waiting to see if we are willing to participate,

to say yes to all the mysterious challenges and possibilities available to us.