“Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with
you.” (Luke 1:28)
Lutherans, as a general rule, don’t pray
the rosary, but on Advent 4 (Year B) we get the origins of that lovely prayer which
is so dear to our Roman brothers and sisters. The Latin translation of the
angel Gabriel’s words in Luke 1:28 is “Hail Mary, full of Grace. The Lord is
with thee.” (“Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb…”
come later in the chapter at verse 42 when Mary meets her cousin Elizabeth). Martin
Luther, although he adored Mary, hated the Latin translation of the salutation
in verse 28. He would’ve been much more pleased had the angel said, “God bless
you, dear Mary!” He maintained that no good German would ever say “You are full
of grace.” He translated it as “thou gracious one,” feeling this was a sweeter
and more complimentary way of saying hello.
However we interpret the angel’s greeting,
we may have to admit to ourselves that the doctrine of the Virgin Birth is a
pretty tough one to believe. When I was in seminary we debated whether belief
in the Virgin Birth was truly necessary for salvation. But Luther comes to our
rescue once again when he quotes the writings of St. Bernard of Clairvaux who
pointed out that this story actually contains three miracles. First, it’s a miracle that the virgin should become
a mother (which Luther considered was no big deal for the God who had created
the universe from nothing). Second, it’s a miracle that Almighty God would be
willing to take on and share our human experience and become one with us.
Third, it’s a miracle that this young lady—a child of her time, culture, and
circumstances—would actually be willing to say “yes” to being the bearer of God
to the world.
Luther thought that the last one was the
greatest miracle of all.
Just think of our girl here. She must’ve
been very young. She was engaged to be married, and if she were found to be
pregnant, at the very least, her
boyfriend would have the right to dump her. If he married her anyway, her child
would always be the subject of snide speculation—he’d be what was called a mamzer. That’s an individual whose
parentage was in doubt and could not be considered to be authentically Jewish.
At the very worst, she could be accused of adultery and stoned to death as a
whore.
And yet she said, “Here am I, the servant
of the Lord.”
Verse 29 tells us she was “perplexed” by
the angel’s words. The Greek word for this is dietracqh (I’d pronounce
this dee-trak-thay) which literally
translates “troubled.” From the context, it might be better to translate it “scared
spitless!” I mean, wouldn’t you be? Pregnancy
alone is a scary thing. So many things can go wrong, and I can’t imagine any
first-time mom who doesn’t face childbearing with a certain amount of fright.
And if pregnancy is frightening, parenthood is freaking terrifying!
And yet she said, “Let it be with me
according to your word.”
She was not an important person. She was
from a hick town. Her most important relative was small town priest. Being
female, she wasn’t even considered a full member of society, just an appendage to
her father or her husband. But God sent a messenger to her, because God’s eye is always on the little folks who, in their
simplicity, patience, and faith, have found favor with God.
For me, the great joy in this Advent story
is how God loves to show up in unexpected places—like, maybe, your house. And
as he hears you pray “Thy will be done,” he invites you to be carriers of his
Word.
Thanks, Mary. May we always be inspired by
your faith.
No comments:
Post a Comment