Dangerous Poetry

WESTMINSTER PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH
December 21st 2008
Rev. Mark R. Bradshaw-Miller
"Dangerous Poetry"
Fourth Sunday in Advent
Luke 1:26-38, 47-55
It has become cliché this time of year for people to comment about the “loss of Christ in Christmas.” Some have even claimed that there is a “War on Christmas.” I must admit that I am not all that worried about a perceived or even a real “War on Christmas.” I can say this because I believe in a God who is big enough to withstand any threat; real or imagined. Instead, I think a more fruitful use of our time is to focus our energy on one of the actors in the Christmas nativity who understood the power of God. Her witness, while often lost in the Protestant tradition, is a powerful and import one.
What does the scripture, from Luke, tell us about Mary? Who was she? Where did she come from? (Or with deference to my teachers: From whence did she come?) The truth is that in this Gospel, we know little. What we do know is that she is unmarried but betrothed, promised in marriage. Which places her about age twelve or thirteen. She is the cousin of Elizabeth. And, she is a woman, which in the ancient work meant she had no standing in society. In other words, Mary is not the sort of person whom the world would consider “favored by God.”
By our standards, to be “favored by God would mean having some standing in society. She would have had to come from the proper family. We would need an accounting of her royal or at least religious pedigree. But God breaks expectations and chooses someone who has none of the criteria. In fact, there is no criterion at all. The text tells us only that the angel says: “You have found favor with God.” No reason is given.

Some have argued that Mary is a person of no consequence and as such we should pay her no attention. This could not be further from the truth. The choice of Mary reminds us that God has always chosen people of no consequence to change the world. Christmas is a story that reminds us that God acts through people living on the margins of society.

So, Gabriel speaks to Mary and tells her that the world she knows is about to change. From the outset, it appears that Mary really does not have a choice. But that is not the end of the story. Mary’s first response is to simply ask how this is possible. Gabriel tells Mary of the miraculous things that God has done for her cousin Elizabeth. And adds that; ‘nothing is impossible for God.’ Mary’s final words to Gabriel is not an acquiescence too inevitability but instead and affirmation that she is on board. “Let it be!” Mary has had an encounter with the messenger of God and despite not having a clue as to the consequences, or the details, she says yes.

Mary is the first witness to the good news of Jesus Christ. The mother of God gets clued in before the rest of the world. After pondering these things in her heart, and visiting with her cousin Elizabeth, she finally gives a public witness. But her first words of the good news do not come in the form of a sermon. Instead she presents beautiful, powerful and revolution poetry as her witness to Gods action.

In Carl Sagan’s book Contact, made into a movie starring Jody Foster, a scientist, Foster, is sent on in a specially designed space vessel to make contact with life forms in another galaxy. When this scientist first makes contact and visits this unexplored galaxy her first glimpse leaves her speechless. Unable to convey the beauty of what she has seen in merely descriptive words, the comment is made that they should have sent a poet instead. Poetry has the power to convey what simple description cannot. It has the power to help us imagine and describe things which go beyond mere explanation. But, poetry also has the power to alter the world because poetry has the power to help us imagine that another world is possible. And when that happens the established order is in trouble.

This is the power of the words of Mary. She did not live in a world where the powerful had been brought down from their thrones. Mary did not live in a world where the prideful were scattered or where the rich were sent away empty. Mary’s world the world of an occupied province of a great empire is not one in which this poetic vision would have been birthed. But Mary is able to see it anyway. Mary imagines that another world is possible. She imagines this other world not simply because she has encountered Gabriel but because she knows the larger story of the faith. While she lives under military occupation she knows her primary identity is child of God. And, the God who has claimed her and calls her favored is a God who is bigger than any world power, past present or future.

This is what Mary knows. She knows the stories of the faith. Mary knows that God has done these things in the past. God has brought down the prideful at the tower of Babel. God has lifted up Abraham and Sarah and made them parents of all the generations. Our faith is built upon the faithful action of God and our belief in the power of being a witness. And because of this Mary can with confidence say: ‘the child I carry will upend this world.’ Her song is a song of hope for all those who feast on dust; it is a song of Good News! Amen.

It's All about Comfort, Right?

WESTMINSTER PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH
December 7th 2008
Rev. Mark R. Bradshaw-Miller
“It’s All about Comfort, Right?”
Second Sunday of Advent
Communion Sunday
Isaiah 40:1-11; Mark 1:1-8

It was a cold day, a bit too cold to enjoy the garden, but it was the day after thanksgiving, so it was good to be out and about. As I went walking through the Olbrich botanical garden in Madison Wisconsin, I marveled at the silent beauty. The silence was only broken when Emma said: “I bet this is really pretty in the summer.” A bit taken back I replied: “I think it is really pretty right now you just have to work harder to see it.” She looked at me as if to check on whether I was serious or not. Realizing that I was not, “Ok daddy,” is all she said.
I am sure that she is right. The spring and summer versions of that garden are probably quite amazing. However, after two winters working on a tree farm I came to appreciate the beauty provided in the winter landscape. The truth is that when a garden is in full bloom or in its fall glory, we do not have to do much but open our eyes and enjoy, even if that means braving our allergies. But, despite the cold, I believe the barrenness of winter is beautiful and has much to teach if we will just work a little harder to see it.
You do not have to be a fan of gardens to understand what I am saying. We are, after all, a people of the wilderness story. The story of our faith is all about encountering God in the barren places. It took forty years of wandering in the barren wilderness to be prepared for the Promised Land. Moses is spoken to by God in the wilderness; God speaks to the prophets in the wilderness. The messengers of God always find themselves in the wilderness. The wilderness is a barren place where clarity of purpose is often found. John goes into the wilderness to proclaim the good news, and Jesus will go into the wilderness in preparation for his earthly ministry. The wildernesses, the deserts, the barren places of life are really our places.
That may not sound much like good news. It may seem even more difficult when we consider that our calling is to share this story. Just imagine the marketing campaign: “Come to our church it’s a barren, wilderness… a real wasteland!” Not particularly appealing. And add to this that we are a people of the wilderness story in a culture well practiced at avoiding wilderness. It is not that we do not offer a word of comfort but the comfort we are offered is not what most might expect.
The comfort from the words of the prophet is directed to those who have suffered. Comfort is promised in the form of a vision where the inequality of the world comes to an end. Those at the top are going to be brought down and those at the bottom will be brought up. God’s great leveling of the world may not be perceived as comfort if you stand at the top. But at the heart of this passage is that this vision of comfort has more to say about wilderness than about comfort.
Wilderness is never a place where one wants to go, at least if we have a choice. Have you ever encountered a wilderness place, a place of solitude, a place of pain and discomfort? A place where hiding or distraction was no longer an option? The wilderness places of our lives can be as different as each one of us. In fact, no one can name the wilderness places in your life for you. However, if we enter into our wilderness story of faith long enough I am sure it can speak to those places where everything seemed, or seems, barren.
The good news found in the invitation of John the Baptist is that the wilderness is no longer a place for the select few. God invites all people to see the wilderness places, the desert places, and the barren places of our lives for what they have the potential to be: A place of divine encounter. In this second Sunday of advent we are being called to look a little longer, and work a little harder to see the place of beauty in the barren places of our lives. This is not a message where we run out and tell people who are suffering to look for God in their barren places. Instead, and this is critically important, we are called to give witness to where we have seen God working, and speaking in the barren places of our own lives. Advent is an invitation into the wilderness places, but it is also a reminder that the wilderness is not the end of the story. During those long solitary days working on the tree farm in the dead of winter I found that spring never looked as beautiful as when it followed the long cold winter where I longed for even a hint of the hope of spring. Amen.