God we thank you
that you made yourself known
to someone without power, wealth or status,
and we praise you
for the courage of Mary,
this young woman from Galilee,
whose Yes to the shame and shock
of bearing your Son
let loose the unstoppable power of love
which changed the world.

Even if you don’t know much about great works of art, you’re aware that the Annunciation – Gabriel’s message to Mary - is the theme of many paintings and sculptures. All of us have at least seen reproductions, somewhere along the way; and if we’re lucky, the originals in museums or cathedrals. You can probably paint a picture of the Annunciation in your mind’s eye right now – a stunningly beautiful angel Gabriel with enormous wings, richly brocaded robes trimmed with red and gold, and Mary; dressed in a lovely gown, demurely seated, eyes submissively downcast, with a book in her lap.

Paintings with such visual images allow us to meditate on the Annunciation as a quiet, beautiful, awe-filled moment. Mary with the open book in her lap seems almost to have been waiting for Gabriel to appear. She is calm and still, almost regal in her appearance, and she is (literally) the image of one ready to listen and ready to say, “Yes.”

But as we read the words of Luke in describing the encounter between Gabriel and Mary, I imagine the reality was something quite different. “In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David.” As a young peasant girl living in an obscure country village, Mary would have been busy at some household chore – sweeping, cooking, baking, mending, tending the fire, feeding the livestock, drawing water from the well. Her clothing was homespun and handmade, not the elaborate embroidered gown of the artist’s imagination.

She wouldn’t have been reading a book at this or any other time as she was, like all young girls of that day and time, illiterate. Given her cultural heritage, as a young Palestinian Jew she was likely dark in hair and coloring rather than blond and fair in complexion. Her hands were anything b ut soft and her nails were not well manicured. She was likely barefoot.

In all likelihood, Mary looked like hundreds of young girls of similar age and background and circumstances. Her prospects for the future were the same as most young Jewish girls – marriage and childbirth, hard and never-ending labor to feed, clothe and care for a family, and lifelong submission to father, husband, and local rabbi. From our standpoint, looking back, we would notice that Mary had no options for a life other than the one that was culturally designated for a young Jewish girl of her time and place.

“And Gabriel came to her and said, ‘Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you. But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.” That’s a lovely way of saying she was scared out of her wits! Who wouldn’t be? But Gabriel assures her that there is nothing to be afraid of in him or in the message he comes to bring. And then Gabriel tells Mary what he has been sent to say.
Did she drop to her knees in shock? Did she reach out to steady herself as the earth-shaking message was delivered? Her mind must have been spinning with questions. Pregnancy? A son? Jesus? Son of the Most High? To be given the throne of David? Did she wonder at all – what will happen to me? What will my family say? What will Joseph say? What will the rabbi do? But the first question Mary asks is not one about the risk she is taking as an unmarried girl in saying “Yes” but about practicalities. “How can this be, since I am a virgin?”

And now we begin to understand that Mary is not like other girls her age. What sets Mary apart is that she dares to risk her standing, her future, her reputation, and her family by radically trusting God. This is no meek and mild Mary, gentle and sweet – this is a young girl of great courage and of even greater faith. And she says, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

Would we have such courage? Do we have such radical trust in God? Would we be willing to risk our reputation and our future on a plan that from the eyes of the neighbors would seem anything but of God’s purpose and design?

They’re important questions, because “God’s action in our lives provokes a response too.”

In some sermon material, I came across the following: “Throughout our Liturgy there is a pattern of greeting and response: ‘The Lord be with you. And also with you.’ These words remind us that the Savior has come to us. God has come to dwell not only with us, but in us. Our lives will never be the same again. Like Mary, we are favored ones, filled with new life. The church – like Mary and the chosen people of Israel before her, is formed to bear witness to God. To be bearers of the Gospel is a sometimes thrilling, sometimes frightening, often overwhelming task. At times we are unable to contain the good news; at times we are burdened by what it asks of us. ‘How can this be?’ we ask. ‘How can God do such strange and wondrous things?’ And how ought we to respond to God’s gracious activity? Do not be afraid. The God for whom nothing is impossible is with us. Like Mary, we are overshadowed by the power of the Holy Spirit so that it might be with us as God desires.”

A very young, rural, uneducated Jewish girl has much to teach us about courageous faith and radical trust. Mary is an unlikely chosen one, like so many others God calls on. Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Peter, Paul – the Bible is just full of unlikely candidates; full of very “human” human beings overflowing with faults and failings. Somehow it seems that it is in God’s purposes and plan that those who are the least likely and the least prepared are often those most willing to say, “Here I am.”

In one of the little devotional books I like to use in my morning quiet time, one of the editors wrote: “So many of the entries in my journal end, ‘I am yours.’ It appears so often because that is the way I want to live my life everyday. Mary made this incredible leap of faith and offered herself without qualification to God for whatever God chose to bring into her life. We like to think we can know the future, and so we make plans and seek to determine what the future will be. Planning and preparing are wonderful practices that we should incorporate into our lives. However, these practices should not dull our readiness to hear God’s call to an unknown path and our readiness to say yes to that call.”

How is God calling you at this particular time in your life? Are you ready? Do you feel prepared? If not, that’s okay. What matters is not readiness but willingness. Mary said “Yes” out of profound trust in God. We can say “Yes” too, with courage and commitment and with radical trust in the God who counts us among the least of the least likely. And who knows what God will do with our “Yes?”

Amen.