As Christmas quickly approaches, families gather together, sharing their stories and memories of Christmases past. I would like to begin this morning with a Christmas story from my own family. It’s a story with a sad beginning, but it’s also a story of unexpected joy.
On a December 18th, a little over 50 years ago, my grandfather Donald Metcalfe died tragically before his time. Donald left behind a young wife, Beverly, and three small boys, the youngest of whom was my father, Dave. He was just four years old at the time. Through the years of struggling alone to put food on the table for her children, Bev lost touch with Donald’s side of the family, who lived across the country. Dave grew up knowing that he had a mysterious uncle named Bob Metcalfe somewhere in New Brunswick, but that’s about as far back as his Metcalfe genealogy could be traced.
Bev managed to raise her children well, and Dave grew up into successful man who frequently travelled across Canada on business. One year, Dave was travelling through New Brunswick transporting a load of lobster. When he registered with the airport security officer, the guard asked, “Dave Metcalfe? Are you by any chance related to Bob or Donald Metcalfe”? My stunned father, who had next to no living memories of those men, replied “Yes, Donald was my father, and Bob was my uncle.” That afternoon Dave gave Bob a call. Bob had been just a boy when his older brother died, and he had grown up longing for a connection to his Metcalfe family. Bob and Dave were reunited that day, and these two men began to establish what would become a lasting relationship. The routine of a normal workday was unexpectedly disrupted by what my family believes was an act of God.
The lectionary reading from Luke today invites us to explore how God disrupts the ordinary. Mary is a young woman, possibly as young as 12 years old, who is engaged to be married to Joseph. This couple lives in the obscure and rather underprivileged town of Nazareth. I imagine that people in Jerusalem might have thought about Nazareth in a similar kind of way as to how we in Toronto might think about Timmons. Mary is going about her ordinary life, an unimportant girl in an unimportant place, when God interrupts the ordinary.
The angel Gabriel appears to Mary with the announcement that God has chosen to show her favor. She will conceive a child who will be called the Son of the Most High, and she is to give him the name Jesus. Mary will become a mother. Mary asks, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” Mary is not only asking how it’s physically possible for her to have a baby, but she’s also wondering how it is that she herself could be the woman who is chosen to be the mother of this special child. The angel responds to Mary’s confusion by telling her that God’s Holy Spirit will come upon her to make all of this happen. Gabriel also tells Mary about another miracle that’s already happening in her own family, the miraculous pregnancy of Mary’s relative Elizabeth. Gabriel reassures Mary that nothing is impossible with God.
During the strongly patriarchal era of the New Testament, and indeed throughout much of history, motherhood was considered to be the ultimate way for a woman to demonstrate God’s favour. The inability to bear children has always been a very sensitive and difficult issue, both in a patriarchal society, and still today. Historically, difficulty in bearing a child was often considered to be the woman’s fault, although today medicine has advanced us beyond this understanding. Difficulty in bearing a child was then, and can remain today, a source of pain of great pain and heartache.
In Mary’s era, a woman who could not have children might even have considered herself to be cursed by God. Having children was also an economic necessity for women, since they were typically unable to own property or to work outside of the home. Women needed to have sons who could protect them and provide for them in their old age. For this reason, the announcement by an angel that a woman is going to have a child is typically a scene of great rejoicing in other biblical texts. However, in Mary’s case, this announcement is uniquely problematic. Since Mary is not yet married, her pregnancy will be seen as proof of sexual infidelity to her partner. This supposed evidence of unfaithfulness will cause Mary to be rejected not only by her finance Joseph, but by her entire community. She will probably be cut off from the support of her family and friends, left without a way of providing for herself and her child and possibly forced to turn to prostitution in order to survive. Since Mary’s town will view her as an adultress, it is even possible that they will stone her to death. The angel’s announcement of Mary’s pregnancy presents her with a big problem.
Nevertheless, Mary chooses to accept God’s plan, with the words “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” Compare Mary’s response to the angel with Moses’ response to God’s call in Exodus 3 and 4. Both Moses and Mary are chosen by God for a special purpose, but whereas Mary accepts God’s call, Moses initially rejects it. God calls Moses to be a leader and a hero who will bring God’s people out of slavery, but Mary’s call is to surrender control over her own body and endure public shame. It seems to me like Mary has a lot more at risk than Moses, yet she demonstrates amazing courage and deep faith by immediately accepting God’s call.
I recognize that the idea of a virgin birth is problematic in many ways, especially in contemporary society. Many excellent theologians, such as Mary Daly and Rosemary Radford Ruether, have done significant work on discussing some of the very real implications to these problems, and they have greatly contributed towards a deeper understanding of the struggles women face in patriarchal systems. The church has much to gain from these insights. But this morning, I would like to share with you from my own perspective why it is that I do find the idea of the virgin birth to be meaningful.
I find the idea of the virgin birth of Jesus to a beautiful, mysterious act which reveals both God’s imminence and God’s transcendence. On the one hand, what could be more ordinary that the birth of a baby? God chooses to work through the normal processes of our human biology. It was throug
h the birth of my own daughter that I realized for the first time how incredibly closely connected we are to the animal world. My body went about its own work quite apart from whatever I wanted it to do, disregardful of my thoughts, feelings, ideas or whatever I might have learned about childbirth. I felt like my being had more in common with a Holstein cow than I did with a philosopher like Plato. The idea that a mysterious divine force would willingly engage a process as profoundly physical and human as the act of giving birth is awe-inspiring to me. How wonderful to contemplate the Very God of very God, begotten not made, transcendent and eternal, willingly immersing God’s self into the human world of physical pleasure and pain.
On the other hand, the virgin birth conveys for me the ways in which God extends beyond the realms of human understanding into the world we sometimes express in small pieces through things like art, through music, and though our dreams of the impossible. Our postmodern society is learning fresh ways of engaging with the spiritual. We are aware that science and rationality often provide us with new questions rather than answers. We crave relationships and connections. Mystery and beauty are celebrated through ritual and creativity. What could be more mysterious and beautiful than a woman giving birth to a person who is also God? What could be more amazing than human connection with the divine? In the person of Jesus, I find my answers to these questions. Jesus is where the transcendent embraces the immanent. Jesus is where God and humanity become one.
Jesus’ birth is a normal, everyday event but it is also a shocking, unexpected event. God both works in history and transcends it at the same time. The incarnation of Jesus is about the fullness of God taking up the fullness of humanity. Theologian David Yeago writes, “On the one hand, the Son of God comes into the world as humans normally do, being conceived in a woman’s body. He experiences what it means to be human all the way back to the silent beginning of life in the womb. But even as the incarnate Son participates in the normal, he also disrupts it: by bringing about new life in a Virgin’s womb, the Spirit declares that the human reality of the Lord is not the product of human history but a gift to human history.”[1] Jesus is everything that it means to be human, and everything that it means to be God, at the same time. That’s why the idea of the virgin birth to me is meaningful, because it is the story of God and humanity becoming one in Jesus, God incarnate.
I realize that not everyone here holds the same understanding of who Jesus is, and I want to say that I celebrate the reality that we are all walking together on a journey. It’s beautiful that we can walk together, although we come from different places. We have much to learn from one another’s experiences about who God is. Canadian Aboriginal theologian Stan MacKay writes, “My truth does not deny your truth.”[2] MacKay speaks about embracing humility and mystery so that communities can come together to discern truth. As we listen and learn from each other’s stories and experiences, God moves among us in ways that might be unexpected. Our different perspectives allow for the possibility of learning, change, and healing. I am thankful that experiencing God’s voice speaking to us though people in the community is a part of our Anabaptist tradition.
God often comes to us unexpectedly, bringing miracles in the midst of the ordinary. A miraculously ordinary baby, or a chance encounter with a stranger, resulting in a family reunited. One Christmas Eve several years ago, my Dad once again found himself travelling through New Brunswick. My parents had left their brothers and sisters in Ontario in order to find work in Calgary. So Mom was at home with us kids while Dad had to go on a business trip over Christmas on the other side of the country. Dad was scheduled to spend Christmas Eve at a hotel in Halifax before flying off in the morning. On the spur of the moment, he decided to rent a car. Without calling ahead, he drove down the coast all the way to St. John, to Uncle Bob’s house. Dad and Bob had developed a close relationship, and my Dad knew that he would be more than welcome. When Dad arrived at the Metcalfe house, he was disappointed to find that no one was home. But in typical New Brunswick fashion, the house was unlocked, so Dad just let himself in. A few minutes later Bob and the family arrived home, to find my Dad sitting in his favorite chair beside the Christmas tree! Dad says that when he saw Bob’s face, he became worried that he was about to have a heart attack. Of course, Bob was absolutely overjoyed to have Dad’s unexpected Christmas visit. The Metcalfe family was able to sit down together that night over a big turkey dinner. My dad loves to attribute this small miracle of timing, and Uncle Bob’s healthy heart, to God’s work.
May God continue to work in both ordinary and unexpected ways in our lives this Christmas. Amen.