Dear friends,
All of our focus at church these days is toward next week, Sunday is Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week. Between then and Easter the following Sunday there are three other special services. Bulletins are being produced, sermons written, music rehearsed. The altar and flower guilds are planning. A lot of work by a lot of people goes into those services. This week and next (and some previous) our full attention is on making those services as powerful, beautiful, and meaningful as we can.
But if you look at the church calendar you may notice that something else of importance is happening this week. Today, March 25, is the Annunciation, the day that the angel Gabriel appears to Mary with the startling news that God has chosen her to give birth to the Messiah, the redeemer of the world. She’s an unlikely choice — probably about 13, from a poor family, engaged, but not married. She’s hardly who one would expect to be entrusted with such an important birth, but Gabriel tells her that God has found favor with her.
Ten years ago March 25 was both the Feast of the Annunciation and Good Friday. In my sermon that day I reflected on what Mary might be thinking and feeling as she stood at the foot of the cross. I share it with you today.
We have an unusual liturgical situation today. We are gathered here because it is Good Friday, the day we remember Jesus’ suffering and death on the cross. It is the most solemn day of the church year.
But today is also March 25, a date of great importance on the church calendar. It is the day of the Annunciation, the day that the Angel Gabriel appeared to Mary to announce that God had chosen her to bring God into the world. If you do the math, you realize that Christmas is nine months from today. The Annunciation is a day of great joy.
This collision of beginning and ending, Alpha and Omega, has happened five times since 1900, and won’t happen again until 2157.
Different churches have different approaches to this liturgical double dipping. If you look at the Episcopal Church calendar for this year you’ll see that the Annunciation has been moved to April 4. The Roman Catholic Church does the same thing.
But Orthodox churches hold two different worship services this day – one joyful liturgy to celebrate the Annunciation and another somber one to remember the crucifixion.
Of course, who knows what day the actual crucifixion was on. And who knows whether Mary knew the calendar date on which the Angel Gabriel appeared to her with that startling news.
But there seems to be a sort of poetic rightness to me that at least this year we hold those two things together. The beginning and the ending, the Alpha and Omega.
And I imagine that Mary, standing at the foot of the cross, knew very well the significance of that date.
So for a few minutes, let’s imagine Mary.
*. *. *She is a small figure standing alone and unnoticed in the crowd. A strange festiveness is in the air – families with children, people selling food and hawking other wares, laughing and talking, catching up with friends and neighbors.
Mary doesn’t understand it. She has never been to an execution before. She has always been appalled at the public spectacle of it all. Her stomach turns at the thought of watching another human being in agony, suffering for hours until finally dying.
She can’t imagine why anyone would voluntarily come and not only watch, but enjoy this cruel horror.
And yet she is here. Not because she wants to be, but because she can’t not be.
Her beloved son, her first born, bone of her bone, flesh of her flesh, the greatest joy in her life, is there before her, hanging on a cross between two common criminals. Her boy Jesus, the gentlest, kindest, most loving soul she has ever known, is dying before her eyes.
How did it come to this?
She remembers as if it were yesterday, although it was this exact date 34 years ago, the appearance of the Angel Gabriel before her, with the strange and wondrous news that God had chosen her to bear God’s son.
“Don’t be afraid,” the angel said, although she truly was terrified. Terrified of what her fiancé, Joseph, would do. Terrified of the scandal and gossip, terrified that her reputation, and that of her family, would be ruined forever.
The angel gave her a choice. She could have said no. All logic said she should. But instead she swallowed her fear and responded, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”
“Let it be with me according to your word.” How many times had she prayed those words over the years? More than she can count.
Being the mother of Jesus, the human incarnation of God, is a life she has cherished, but it has not been easy.
Sometimes it has been perplexing – like when those scruffy shepherds appeared in the stable just hours after Jesus was born, praising God and asking to see the savior. Just as odd was the visit of the men on camels, saying that a star had led them there. She still has the gifts they brought tucked away in the house in Nazareth.
Sometimes it has been frightening – like when they heard the news that Herod had ordered the deaths of all baby boys in an attempt to kill her son. She still has nightmares about their flight to Egypt, and the innocent children who were slaughtered.
Sometimes it has been exasperating – like when the 12-year-old Jesus disappeared for three days on their journey to Jerusalem. She and Joseph were scared to death, and both relieved and angry when they finally found him in the Temple. Like a typical adolescent, Jesus was not impressed by or concerned about their worry.
But mostly those early years were joyful – watching her son grow and learn and play like all the other children. Jesus blended right in with them, even though she always knew he was special.
But she must confess the last three years have been difficult. The day that Jesus told her he was going to be baptized by his cousin John, she knew that things were changing, that somehow her beloved son was being pulled away from her.
She was right. After the baptism he disappeared for 40 days. He was vague about where he had been and what had happened during that time, but whatever it was had changed him.
He left Nazareth and began traveling throughout the region, teaching and preaching. Word began to spread about him – that he had the gift of healing. Soon she heard that men were leaving behind their entire lives to follow him, just to be close to him.
In those days all of Nazareth was proud and excited that one of their own was becoming so well known. She remembers the day he came back to their local synagogue to teach. People were amazed at how well he spoke, how insightful he was, by his assurance and authority. She was so proud sitting there listening to him.
And then, in a flash, it changed. Jesus said God loved all people of the world, not just the Jews, and instantly people were furious. They chased her son out of the synagogue, throwing stones at him. He was lucky to escape alive.
After that day life changed for her, too. Every time she went to the market she could feel eyes on her and hear whispers behind her back. She was no longer respected or honored as Jesus’ mother. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t still proud of him. He never came back to Nazareth, but she kept up with where he was and what he was doing. At times she would go to another town to hear him teach. Sometimes he was too busy to even talk to her, but it comforted her just to lay eyes on him from afar.
It amazed her to watch this child who came out of her womb, now a man with such insight, such charisma, such strength, and yet such tenderness and gentleness. How was it that her flesh and blood could heal blindness and leprosy, cast out demons, even raise the dead? She had spent many nights pondering these things in her heart.
But Lord, how she also worried about him. She knew that he had enemies as well as friends. And the enemies were people with power and authority, people who could make things very difficult for her son.
A voice rouses her from her memories. It is Jesus. He moans, then cries out, “I thirst.”
Looking up at him Mary remembers the song she sang when she went to see her cousin Elizabeth right after the Angel Gabriel appeared to her. Elizabeth understood what was happening.
The joy Mary felt then caused her to burst into song praising God. “He has lifted up the lowly,” she sang. Now looking at her son lifted up on the cross those words come back to her.
She also remembers the words of an old man, Simeon, who greeted her when she and Joseph presented Jesus in the Temple when he was eight days old. “These eyes of mine have seen the savior,” he exclaimed as he gazed upon the sleeping child.
But then those old eyes had looked directly into hers. “A sword will pierce your heart,” he said sadly.
Simeon was right. Her heart and soul are being torn in two.
In tears, she looks again at her son. He is looking at her.
“It is finished,” he says, then breathes his last.