I love to visit churches, okay, go figure! Seriously, I have visited churches all over the world, worshipped in many, and preached in quite a few. What ties all churches together is the sense that walking through the door of a church one has entered into sacred space, a place different from run of the mill buildings.
Whether the church surrounds us with the cozy warmth and simplicity of a space like our own church building or the overwhelming majestic and awe-inspiring grandeur of Notre Dame de Paris, you understand with a recognition which goes beyond words or reason, that this is a holy space. All of which probably begs the question: where is the appropriate dwelling place for God?
In our lesson from the Old Testament King David wondered the same thing. There he was dwelling in a fine palace while God living in the tent of meeting where the Ark of the Covenant resided. The Almighty instructs the prophet Nathan to warn David off; he will not build a temple for God. That honor will fall to David’s son Solomon. But still greater honor will be given to someone who is neither royalty not lives in a finely appointed palace.
In the fullness of time God sent the angel Gabriel to a young innocent, unsullied girl named Mary, a virgin betrothed to man named Joseph; in her the God of the universe would enter into human history through the womb of a virgin peasant girl. As you know my favorite depiction of Mary’s encounter with Gabriel was painted by an African-American painter, Henry Osawa Tanner; the angel’s pronouncement backed Mary into the corner of her room, she looks frightened; perhaps she knew what she was letting herself in for. There is nothing sublime or beatific about the scene, unlike those painted by renaissance masters.
Today we may take unwanted pregnancies, sexual relations outside of marriage with a shrug or a head shake, but in the first century such an occurrence brought shame and disgrace. Mary would be shamed for becoming pregnant; her father and brothers would be shamed for not protecting her well enough. We know the Christmas story so well that perhaps we glide smoothly over the rough, jagged edges of this story. And yet Mary says yes. “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be according to your word.” A few verses later she sings a song of rejoicing: “My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my savior.”
In her “yes” Mary became the Mother of our Lord; she became our Mother as well. It be surprising to learn that the two great protestant reformers, Martin Luther in Germany and John Calvin in Switzerland each had a deep personal devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary. Mary is a model of courage in following the path which God laid out for her. But in a more sublime context Mary teaches us her children that the proper dwelling place for our Lord is the enfleshed body of earthen vessels such as ourselves. It is not in brick and mortar, in stone or stained glass the our dwells, but in the very presence of those who say yes to Him, for as Mary’s own divine Son tells us, “where two or three are gathered in my name…”
