Fourth Sunday of Advent

December 22              NOTES FOR REFLECTION             Fourth Sunday of Advent

Texts:  Isaiah 7:1-16; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew

Theme:  I'm tempted to suggest something about "Role Reversal" or even "The Birth of Gender Inclusiveness"; today's gospel passage always catches me by surprise with its central role of Joseph rather than Mary.  We might even go for "The Annunciation of Our Saviour to the Blessed St Joseph of Jerusalem".  Another key feature of this extraordinary passage is the fact that neither Joseph nor Mary speaks in it: so perhaps we might like "The Fruit of Silence", or "Listening to the Voice of God".  My second favourite this week is "The Facts of Life", because all three readings are about facing up to what is happening and responding in faith.  Above all I think today's readings are about faith, and so I'm going for "Unto Us a Faith is Born".

Introduction.   We start once again with Isaiah.  Judah is in great peril, threatened with imminent invasion, and its terrified King Ahaz has a tough call to make: should he try the worldly approach and seek to join in a military alliance, or should he follow Isaiah's prophetic advice and rely on God?  But where is God when everything goes wrong?  That is the dilemma facing the anguished Joseph when his young fiancée tells him the shocking news that she is pregnant, even though they haven't had sex together.  Should he follow the world's advice and end their relationship, or should he have faith and believe the angelic message he receives in a dream?  St Paul has a message for us that suggests that our obsession for "either/or" thinking might be the real problem.  We have a Saviour, he insists, who is both born of the flesh and of the Spirit.

Background.  Well, I guess we should brace ourselves.  It's that time of the year again when somebody will burst into print rubbishing the so-called Virgin Birth, quoting the usual gang of Modern Prophets Spong, Geering Dawkins and Harris, and wondering how any of us can believe such preposterous unscientific nonsense as that.  What answer can we or should we give to such attacks?

Not, I think, a quibbling one.  We get nowhere by pointing out that, even from a scientific point of view, the focus should be on Jesus' conception rather than his birth, as it is in our gospel narratives.  Nor will it do much good to point out that there are a number of cases where a woman has given birth to a child without male involvement, although the child is always female.  In strictly scientific terms the doubters have a case; though why they think the emergence of the whole cosmos out of nothing (a.k.a. the Big Bang) is more believable than the emergence of a baby from a woman who has not been impregnated with human sperm) is an interesting one.  (Faith translation: if I believe that God created everything out of nothing, why should I not believe that God can create a child from a woman's egg?]

So, personally, it's not science that bothers me on this part of our Creed but the biblical witness itself.  Let's start with the four gospels; do they not show a gradual development of a theological belief, rather than a refinement of the historical record?  Accepting that Mark is the earliest of them, the complete absence of a "birth narrative" is surely telling.  For Mark Jesus is of no interest until his baptism by John in the Jordan.  By the time Matthew is writing the second gospel questions have arisen: where did Jesus come from?  Did he only become "the Son of God" at baptism?  So we find the fist of our birth narratives, building on the "God-assisted" birth narratives associated with Isaac and Samuel and others, but going a step further.  Then comes Luke, and perhaps another issue has arisen in the meantime.  If John is the great Forerunner, announcing Jesus' arrival on the scene, isn't he 30 years or so late?  And so we find Luke assuring us that John has been the great forerunner from his very conception and birth.

It was left to the Fourth Evangelist to rescue us from our prurient interest in the biological details of Jesus' conception and birth, with his magnificent Prologue, compared to which all such quasi-scientific squabbles seem as shrill and silly as they are.  Having been rescued, let us stay rescued and take the opportunity for a fresh start.  Whatever happened 2,000 years ago is part of our history and tradition: what is happening, or is failing to happen, today is where our focus as people of faith must be, even at Christmas time.

So let's look at our birth narratives as descriptive of the birth of faith in us.  The first thing to note is that it starts by divine initiative – it comes to us as gift.  Mary didn't choose God, God chose her.  This is brought out even more fully in the Annunciation account in Luke.  Gabriel's first words to Mary announce, not that she is to become pregnant, but that she is "favoured" by God.  Indeed, "The Lord is with you", a fact of which she was presumably unaware, judging by her response: "she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be".  And here's a thought: look at that word "pondered".  Doesn't that seem an odd word to use in these circumstances?  To ponder surely takes time: it's not an immediate response.  We haven't even got to the announcement of her forthcoming maternity, and already Mary is pondering. 

I'm beginning to suspect that the Annunciation was not a single, brief event, but a process by which Mary grows in faith and understanding.  The sudden encounter with Gabriel is a classic "religious encounter": unlooked for, unexpected, ineffable, inexplicable, but undeniably real to her.  She ponders it.  What does it mean for her?  Now have another look at her song, the Magnificat.  Do you notice anything missing?  There is no reference in it to her own pregnancy, is there?  What she is astonished at (still) is that the Lord "has looked with favour on the lowliness of his servant".  Again, a classic response to a religious experience: "Who am I that this should happen to me?"  And think about the culture of the time, and to her status (or lack of it) as a poor, young, maiden.  How could she expect to have a relationship with God: how could she even know anything about God?  Surely that can only be given to her by a man?

Luke, of course, is the only one of the four to give us the Presentation and the story of Jesus being found in the Temple.  Both accounts feature an amazed and bewildered Mary, and both end with an assurance that the boy, the fruit of her womb, grew stronger.  Faith is like that, isn't it?  Times of shaking and doubt, followed by periods of reflection and pondering, resulting in growth and strengthening.

One last and obvious point.  Mary gave her assent to whatever it was that God had in mind for her – not an intellectual, carefully thought out assent – one much more like a gut reaction.  And that's when her difficulties started.  She could have said no – she could have panicked and cleared off somewhere, too afraid or embarrassed to face Joseph, her family or the neighbours.  Again, faith can be like that – an embarrassment to us.  (How easily we subscribe to the "Faith is a private matter" school of thought!  Even at Christmas – "it's all about family, really, isn't it – what with all the cooking, packing and everything – probably can't get to church, Vicar – you know what it's like..."

And faith takes time to grow.  We have to nurture and protect it, particularly during the early years, giving it the time it needs, and feeding it good healthy food, including bread and wine, and reading to it daily.  Helping it to reach maturity so that when everything turns to custard, when the forces of illness or death or violence or any of their ilk, are threatening to break down the walls of our life, we can rely on it to keep us open to the voice of the One who spoke through the prophet Isaiah, and through the Angel Gabriel, and through the apostle Paul, about a Saviour, a descendant of David according to the flesh, and declared to be the Son of God by resurrection from the dead.

Isaiah.  King Ahaz of Judah faces the classic challenge in the face of military threat – fight back or trust in God.  The threat is real.  The imperialist forces of Assyria have been on a roll for some time, and heading his way.  Already two nations to his immediate north, Israel (the Northern Kingdom) and Aram (Syria), have joined forces and demand that Judah joins them in the hope of together repulsing the Assyrians.  When Ahaz declines they turn on Judah, threatening invasion.  Prudence seems to urge a re-think: Isaiah urges instead a policy of pacifism – do nothing and watch how God will save us.  Ahaz hesitates, so Isaiah urges him to seek a sign from God.  Ahaz refuses this suggestion, wrapping his lack of faith in false piety.  So Isaiah gives him a sign anyway: a young woman with child whose name is Immanuel – God with us.  Perhaps Ahaz is the virgin, the barren woman, in whom faith in God can still be born if only he will accept the gift he is being offered?  Like Mary herself, he has to be convinced that the Lord is with him.

Taking It Personally.

• It's time for you to do some pondering!  What do you make of the idea that the birth narratives can be understood as a story about the birth of faith?
• In terms of human growth, at what stage of development is your faith at this time?  Gestating?  New-born?  In its infancy?  Childish?  Adolescent?  Adult?
• When are you least likely to be aware of God's favour, or of his presence with you – in good times or tough times?
• What do you make of Isaiah's "advice" to the king – when in a pickle do nothing, and wait and see what God will do about it?  Have you ever followed this approach?  What happened?

 

Romans.  What a great opening sentence (yes, it is all one sentence!) for this epistle. Paul identifies himself and his calling (his credentials, we might say), names the subject-matter of his letter, and then summarises his fundamental belief in the identity of Christ.  Christ is the one of whom the prophets spoke, a descendant of David by (natural) birth, and shown to be the Son of God through the power of the Spirit by his resurrection from the dead.  He rounds it off by making it clear that the gospel is not some insulated historical story of interest to readers, but has immediate personal importance to him and to them.  It's about his calling as an apostle to bring about a faithful response in them – he is, so to speak, a midwife to assist in the birth of faith in the Gentiles.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• Read slowly through the rather dense passage.  How much of it can you apply to yourself?  Are you a servant of Christ?  Have you been set apart for him?  Have you a specific ministry in his name?
• Is St Paul's description of Christ in verses 3 and 4 compatible or incompatible with the "Virgin Birth"?  Does it matter to you?  Why?

 

Matthew.  Just one more point to add here.  If this is a parable about the growth of faith, perhaps more notice should be taken of that little phrase in verse 24 "When Joseph awoke from sleep":  following his own spiritual awakening, he obediently followed the will of God as revealed to him by the angel.  And the result was new birth.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• Mary experiences an angel in her waking state – Joseph in a dream.  What do you make of that?
• Imagine someone reporting to you that an angel appeared to them while they were awake.  Would you believe them?  Would you be more inclined to believe them if they reported that an angel had spoken to them in a dream?  Why?
• Think for a moment how Joseph must have felt when Mary first broke the news.  If it wasn't an angelic intervention, what could have caused him to "go along with it?"
• Do you give Joseph much thought in your faith journey?
• What do you make of the fact that neither Joseph nor Mary speaks in this passage?  Is the proper response to the call of God one of action rather than words?