What Would She Say?

What would you have said? What would you have said if a holy presence had suddenly made itself known to you, and then asked you to do something totally incredible? What would you have said? [Query a few people in the congregation.]

If you had been Mary, the entire cosmos would have been waiting, breathless, to hear your answer to Gabriel. In St. Paul’s Church in Antwerp, Belgium, on the north side aisle, hang fifteen paintings, depicting what are called the “mysteries” of Jesus’ life.1 The very first painting is by the 16th century artist Hendrik van Balen. The painting depicts the first of the “joyful mysteries,” i.e., the Annunciation. Christians believe that the coming of the Word into our neighborhood was part of God’s plan from the beginning of creation. In the van Balen painting God is on the point of fulfilling God’s promise to send a savior, a promise which we have heard over and over in the Hebrew Scriptures, and which we just heard John the Baptizer proclaim again for first century Jews and Gentiles. God is always dependent on human cooperation for the fulfillment of God’s plans. Now God is dependent on a young woman’s willingness to take the risk of letting God the Son come into her body. And so in this painting God the Father, God the Holy Spirit, and countless throngs of angels hold their breaths, suspended in time, as they wait for the response of this young woman. What would she say?

Understandably, she was cautious, perhaps even amazed. She no doubt asked herself first whether she was truly in the presence of a heavenly messenger, or whether she was just imagining it all. And why on earth would God’s messenger address her as “favored one?” She was poor, perhaps all of fourteen, and a woman, in a culture that had a decided preference for wealthy, older males. She lived in a no-account town, in an obscure corner of a country dominated for centuries by other countries. She was even more perplexed when the messenger suggested that she was called to give birth to a holy child. She retorted, “You’re kidding me, right? My fiancé and I haven’t even slept together yet.” When he shook his head to show he wasn’t kidding at all, she knew that if she agreed to his proposal, her life, from that day forward, would change radically. So the cosmos waited: what would she say?

And, of course, they all let out a collective sigh of relief when she said, “Yes, I see it all now: I'm the Lord's maid, ready to serve. Let it be with me just as you say.” Yes, she agreed, but let’s be clear: Mary was not a passive player in God’s plan, she was not speaking lines already written for her, and she was not coerced into answering as she did. She had a choice. Though she knew that she was not one of the great ones of this world, perhaps Mary sensed, perhaps even dimly at first, that she was indeed called by God to take up her unique role in God’s plan of salvation. Surely she could not foresee all that was to unfold – Luke tells us that she “kept all these things in her heart.” Nevertheless she believed that the presence she felt was indeed holy, she trusted in God to work God’s will, and she said, “Yes.”

Mary’s “yes” was not the end of the story. Nor was the willingness of God the Son to take up residence among us the end of the story. The holy presence continues to break into our world. When and how do we sense the holy presence? Often, when we allow ourselves the time and space, when we take the ipods out of our ears or turn the TV off for a few minutes, when we open our prayer books or journals, or just sit expectantly, the holy presence makes itself known. Sometimes God’s presence is even more fragmentary: a verse from Scripture, a line of a hymn, a chance conversation may make us aware of God’s presence. If we are attentive, the holy presence also comes to us as we gather together in Christian community, as we hear Scripture read, as we are immersed in the waters of baptism, and as we are nourished with Christ’s Body and Blood. If we realize that we are all God’s children, we can then perhaps see how the holy presence also seeks out a welcome among Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs, Buddhists, and even those who deny its reality. Those who welcome that holy presence, become holy people, and through them God’s plan for creation continues towards its ultimate fulfillment.

When we sense the holy presence breaking into our world, our reaction may not be so different from that of Mary. “Is God really here?” we may think, “or am I just imagining it? And why would God take the trouble to come to me? I’m not anybody. I’m just a schoolteacher, or a retiree, or a homemaker. I’m just trying to do my best to provide for my family and community.” We might even ask the same question of our parish. “Why would the holy presence come to St. Peter’s? We’re just a small struggling parish in a struggling town down on the Ohio River, far from anywhere. Who are we to be part of God’s plan?” Surprise! We too, as individuals and as a parish, may find ourselves not only visited by the holy presence, but asked or called to participate in God’s plan in some unexpected way. “God with us” barges into our lives, sometimes into our very bodies, and lays out God’s plan for us. “You’re kidding, right?” we may say, “I’m too young, I’m too old, we can’t afford it, no one has the time, right?” And just as the angels and archangels, as the whole company of heaven stood holding their breaths until Mary answered Gabriel, the cosmos waits on our answers too. What will he say? What will she say? Will they do it?

Surely the angels and archangels waited expectantly last month as the congregation of St. John the Baptist Church in Corona, California got a glimpse of the holy presence in the form of Erin Tharp.2 Now twenty-eight, Tharp was paralyzed by viral encephalitis at the age of fourteen. Ever since she has been unable to speak and has been confined to a wheelchair. In a sermon that she laboriously typed out with one finger and that was read from an ipad by Deacon Karen Chavez, Tharp acknowledged her need for constant care. Yet she expressed her gratitude for her wheelchair. “It has allowed me to take family vacations, ‘walk’ with my [Centennial High School] class at graduation and pick out my canine daughter, Maggie,” she said. “I can also do the little things with the family. I never thought just eating dinner, as a family, would be so special.” Which led to “thinking about people less fortunate than me. They deserve the same feeling of freedom I enjoy. Where they were born or their economic situation shouldn’t hinder that.” Despite her limitations, Tharp became an enthusiastic supporter of the Free Wheelchair Mission, a nonprofit, nonsectarian ministry that has already supplied more than 600,000 wheelchairs worldwide. Along with Bishop J. Jon Bruno, Tharp has helped the Diocese of Los Angeles meet a challenge to underwrite the cost of sending out 2,750 wheelchairs. When Tharp addressed the congregation of St. John the Baptist, she had already donated $630 of her own, enough to buy 10 wheelchairs. She challenged the congregation to raise enough money for 100 chairs. People wondered if it were really possible to raise that much. Tharp, along with the angels and archangels, held her breath. What would the congregation say? All breathed a sigh of relief as the congregation accepted the challenge. At last count they’d raised enough to purchase 122 wheelchairs. As for Tharp, she is more concerned about continuing her outreach than about her own health challenges. “Advent is the perfect time to shed light on the extreme giving Free Wheelchair Mission does for God’s forgotten children, liberating them from the yoke of bondage,” she told the John the Baptist congregation. “In many places around the world, the disabled truly are the least of his brothers .… Let’s take time out of the busy-ness of this Christmas season to remember those who are often forgotten, if not ignored. At the risk of sounding corny, I think that’s the perfect birthday gift for Jesus.”

Who are our holy visitors? What do you hear in prayer, in Scripture, in conversation with each other? What is the holy presence that we discern asking us to do? Do we have a perfect birthday gift for Jesus? Are we called to new ministry “out there?” Or perhaps we are called to strengthen the bonds among the members of this parish. This week take a few minutes to let God’s holy presence visit you. Take careful note of what you hear. Remember that Gabriel’s message to Mary began with “The Lord is with you,” and concluded with “Nothing is impossible with God.” Good words to remember when God’s holy presence calls us into unexpected partnership with God.

1. As noted by Paul Wesley Chilcote in “Monday in Advent III,” Come Thou Long-Expected Jesus (Harrisburg, PA: Morehouse, 2007), 36-7.

2. Pat McCaughan, “Corona Episcopalian inspires support for wheelchair ministry,” Episcopal News Service, December 15, 2011, accessed at http://episcopaldigitalnetwork.com/ens/2011/12/15/corona-episcopalian-inspires-support-for-wheelchair-ministry/