Servant of the Lord Preached on 12-24-17 at Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Luke 1:26-38These past few weeks, I’ve been watching some cute nativity videos online. You know the ones, where children, in hesitant speech, narrate the story from memory. Generally they are quite true to the biblical story. And sometimes they add some modern-day details of their own, such milk and diapers brought by the wise men. But I’ve noticed one thing. When children tell the story of the annunciation, the story we just heard, they often imagine Mary hanging out the laundry on the line, or inside doing something else homey, like sewing or cooking … doing domestic chores. This is much like the live nativity in my town, acted out in a local field with real donkeys and lamas, children and adults. Any child who arrives early enough can take a costume and participate. And so, on the evenings of Dec 22nd and 23rd, the children, adults, and new parents with their baby Jesus are all bundled up in their parkas and snowsuits, under angel, shepherd and other outfits. I enjoy the telling of the story in this way, except for one particular detail that irritates me a little. The narration begins “Mary was a religious girl, always busy at her chores.” You see the silhouette of woman in a tiny house sweeping the floor. When the angel appears and delivers the message, she falls to her knees. Mary mimes her initial fear and trembling, then a woman takes over the narration. Very softly murmuring “let it be with me according to your word” she submits, to the duty to which she is called. But, no, this will not do. If we read Luke’s gospel carefully, we’ll understand that Mary is not a submissive character. This week we focus on the announcement of the angel, a story that comes before the reading we heard last week. In last week’s text, Mary sang her song of liberation, the Magnificat, in which she credited God with bringing down the powerful and scattering the proud. Mary anticipated that she, and others who were also lowly, would be lifted up by these mighty acts of God. This is the outcome of her surrender to God’s will, her consent to carry and birth the infant Jesus. Her answer isn’t the gentle melody of the Beetle’s song “let it be”. Her reply is strong, bold and fierce “Here am I servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Mary surrenders to the task that God has chosen for her. She will nurture and birth this child, and will do all the courageous things necessary to ensure he grows into adulthood. She knows it will not be easy. She is well aware of the forces at play in her world, that would resist one who would bring down the powerful and scatter the proud. Mary’s pondering is not passive daydreaming but deep prayer. It is deep discernment seeking out God’s will for her and the child she will carry. And so, we might wonder why we have been presented with stories of a meek religious girl, busy about her chores. How has this distortion taken place? Why have our children been encouraged to think of Mary in this way? I have a hint. I believe it has to do with a resistance to the scattering of the proud. We humans often craft our sacred stories to suit our purposes. The idea of a submissive, passive Mary certainly suited the male-only priesthood that existed in the Catholic, Protestant and Orthodox churches for centuries. To hold up Mary as an example of servant-hood is a convenient model for the authority of the clergy, who wished for members to do their bidding. The problem is, Mary is not called to be a servant of the powerful, she is called to be a servant of God, for God’s purposes. I realize, this may sound confusing. The scriptures invite us to follow the Way of Jesus. We are told that way is to become like Christ, a servant of all. But we, especially we the church, have to be careful about the way we handle this instruction to serve. A little over 20 years ago, my family and I began attending a UCC church in our small town. We joined the church with a number of other young families. Like many other congregations, this church had relied on the stay-at-home mothers of the 1960’s and 70’s to provide a backbone of service. The largest organization within the church was the so-called “Women’s Association” to which every woman of the church automatically belonged. The Women’s Association ran the annual, elaborate Christmas Fair; they were responsible for the very tasteful interior decorations of the church building; and among other things they coordinated coffee hour coverage. And it is my understanding that a number of the women ensured that the gaunt but beloved pastor was kept well supplied with his favorite sweet treats. And so, come the mid-1990’s the matriarchy of the Women’s Association was aging. They expected the new cohort of young mothers to step up and take their places. They couldn’t understand why this might be a problem. Meanwhile, the new women like myself, were part of the new generation juggling work and child care. We were reluctant to spend up to $40 on babysitting to attend the lengthy Women’s Association evening meetings. I was particularly surprised to read an announcement in the newsletter that “every woman” in the church was expected to provide a baked good for the church fair. As my grandfather had been a master baker, and my dad had taken up baking in his retirement, I wondered what the church was missing, by limiting this call to women only. Rev. Ken was a wonderful pastor, approachable and diligent in pastoral care, a true servant of all. At first he couldn’t understand why the new women didn’t want to participate in the Women’s Association. He preached many a sermon on the need for service to the church. It took a while to explain to him the cost of childcare and the fact that many of the young dads worked late or traveled for work. The mothers were worn out by the end of a day of “doing it all.” They wanted to serve the church, but on a different schedule. And they wanted to do work that felt meaningful: whether it was singing in the choir, publishing the newsletter, or being in leadership. It took a while to explain, but once the pastor understood, he helped with this transition in the power dynamic of the church. This was a “change or die” moment for the Women’s Association. The elder members were terribly sad that their group was breaking up, but they could not imagine organizing differently. And so the Association was finally dissolved. Their remaining funds were made available for special women’s retreats, which were appreciated by all ages. Subsequently several younger women took up positions of responsibility in the church. Although both the men and women in the church had always practiced service, things simply became a little more equal. I tell this story, not to criticize my pastor or the people of the church that I love. But I tell it to show how easily we can all become accustomed to an unequal situation, especially when it benefits ourselves. I tell this story, to demonstrate that there often has to be disruption in the church and culture when God’s purposes are acted upon. It is a problem for people in authority or power ascribe Mary’s role as servant to other people. And it is a problem when people in subservient positions to the powerful are held back from the worthy positions of service that God has in mind for them. The distortion of Mary’s role has been exploited in the institutional church and in the culture for generations. Pastors, priests and others in authority, have manipulated their power in order to abuse the children and others in their care. And those who have suffered domestic abuse by their partner in marriage have often been sent home by their pastor to submit to their abusers. My hope is that we are, and we can be, a church that gives the Mary’s among us the opportunity to surrender to God’s call on their lives. That often means privileging the quietest voices in the room – something I often forget to do. It means to listen wisely to the youngest and the oldest, to persons of color, and members of the LGBTQ community. To always be on the lookout for those who have been cast a lowly role in our community. There will always be domestic chores, and I am most grateful for the people here, irrespective of gender, who do that work. This is work we can do graciously and gladly together. And then we can be on the look out for what we need to do to live into God’s promise of lifting up the lowly and bringing down the proud. Mary is been given the role of Christ-bearer. It is a position of great responsibility in God’s plan of redemption for the world. It is not simply “women’s work” and is certainly not only a domestic chore. To become a servant of the Lord requires courage. Resisting the temptation to become the servant of the proud and the powerful also requires the courage. It is a role ascribed to each one of us, whether or not we are lowly or proud. And so, I invite us all to search out hearts this Christmas time, and ponder deeply, how is God inviting each of us to surrender? What mighty Christ-bearing role does God have in store for you? Let all of God’s people say Amen.
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