Reflections on The Annunciation of Our Lord



When I was vicar at Grace Lutheran Church of Yorktown Heights, New York I had the honor of participating with a wonderful ministry called Midnight Run. Midnight Run was an ecumenical group of churches and synagogues organized to care for the homeless of New York City. They collected usable clothing items, new socks and underwear, and made bags of sandwiches and buckets of hot soup and coffee. Around midnight, caravans of Midnight Run volunteers would drive through Manhattan and bring as much comfort as possible to people living on the streets. 

I participated in two “runs” during my time at Grace. On my second run, about three o’clock in the morning, our caravan made a stop near Columbus Circle. Under the shelter of a skyscraper entrance on the lip of Central Park we met up with a colony of displaced people who had created a sort of “tent city” out of cardboard boxes. As I recall, it was about mid-March, and the temperature was only slightly above freezing. 

As I handed out soup and sandwiches, one of the homeless—a guy I’ll call Chuck—asked me if I’d go into the “tent city” to feed Old Joe. Old Joe was sick and could not get up to stand in line for food. I found the man shivering under a piece of cardboard from an old appliance box. I handed him a bag of food and a cup of coffee. He thanked me. As I walked away, I wondered how much longer Old Joe would have on this earth. 

Chuck thanked me for my kindness. He took my hand and shook it with profound gratitude. His grip was like a trash compacter. He could easily have broken every bone in my hand had he been so inclined. I somehow fancied that Chuck might have been a Vietnam veteran. He had a rough, unshaven face, and I noticed that he had a scab across the bridge of his nose and scrape marks on his knuckles as if he’d been in a fight. What struck me the most about him, however, was the way he held my gaze. His eyes, which foretold imminent tears, locked onto mine as he shook my hand. I had the feeling no one had really looked at this man for a very long time. 

How deep and aching is our human need to be seen and acknowledged. 

I think part of the beauty of the story of the Annunciation (Luke 1:26-38) is Mary’s reaction to having been noticed by God. Verse 29 tells us that this girl was “perplexed” by being told by the angel that God was with her and that she was favored. After all, she had no prestige in the culture. She was not from a wealthy family, she had no education, she was a woman in a male-dominated world, and—truth be told—the Bible doesn’t even claim that she was particularly virtuous (although we always assume she was!). But nevertheless, God had seen and acknowledged her. And he called her to be the bearer of Christ. 

Not that this was particularly good news. Mary would soon be an unwed teen mother, a condition which would place her even lower in the culture. Martin Luther believed that there are three miracles present here: The first is that God deigns to dwell with humankind. The second is that a virgin conceives. But Luther feels the greatest miracle is the fact that this sacred and confused girl said “yes” to God’s plan. She believed that she had been seen and chosen and that she was called to do something which mattered to the world.  

So I ask you: Do you believe? Do you believe God is present with you? That you matter? That you are called to bear Christ, and that God believes you are up to the task. Can you say with Mary, 

“Here am I, the servant of the Lord. Let it be with me according to your word.” (v.38a) 

Of course, it’s pretty easy to doubt this. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that every pastor or priest has at some time felt unworthy of their call. “No. Lord, you don’t really mean me do you? Isn’t there someone better suited to bear Christ?” 

We all slink back into the closet of our self-doubt. “I can’t proclaim Jesus. I’m not smart. I don’t know my Bible. I don’t speak well. I’ve done some less-than-perfect things in my life. I’m in a toxic relationship. I’m unemployed. My kids are a freakin’ mess. I cuss too much and I like beer. My dad’s in prison. I’m an addict. I’m angry and resentful.” 

But God has noticed you. God has seen you in all of your weakness and doubt and craziness. God has seen you and chosen you. How will you bear Christ? Once you believe that you are chosen, the how will make itself known.  

But first believe. Do not be afraid. For you have found favor with God.

PS - If you wish to notice and acknowledge folks who seem to be invisible in our culture, check out www.midnightrun.org.