Sermon: "The First Disciple," Third Sunday in Advent December 15, 2024

The Annunciation, Henry Ossawa Tanner, 1898

Scripture: Luke 1:26-46
Preacher: The Rev. Ryan Slifka

Sermon Series Slide for prayer

Astonishing God, send your Holy Spirit upon us
as we await the coming of your Son.

Fill us with good things that we may conceive your reign on earth
and glorify you according to your Word;
through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.

Angel Appearing to Zechariah

Today we continue in our sermon series on Luke’s gospel. Last week was the story of Zechariah and Elizabeth. Zechariah being a very old priest who was visited by the angel Gabriel while praying and offering incense at the temple. Gabriel who announces that Zechariah’s wife—also very old—would find herself pregnant. And not only would this be a miracle baby, this baby would grow up to fulfil the scriptures: he’d come preparing God’s people for the coming of the Messiah. He’d set the stage for the arrival of the promised one. We later come to know this baby as John. The guy who baptizes Jesus.

The Annunciation Tintoretto

Now this week might give you a little déjà vu. Here we have an angel—again, Gabriel—making yet another visitation. This time, the angel visits a young woman named Mary—like Elizabeth. And, she’s going to also become pregnant—like Elizabeth. And give birth to a child—like Elizabeth. Major difference between her and Elizabeth, being of course, that Mary’s never actually been with a man. If you know what I mean.

Note that it doesn’t say God will impregnate her like Zeus in so many Greek myths. As if you could run a DNA sample of this baby through a P.C. and you’d find both strands from Mary and the Almighty. But that the Holy Spirit will overshadow her, and she will carry this child. The Holy Spirit, God’s life-giving, universe-creating power[i] will generate within her a child, a royal child. A royal child named Jesus. And this child will not only bring about a future for her people, but all people. The entire human race. The whole of creation. All without a male donor.

Now, while this scene may be the subject of countless beautiful renaissance paintings, it’s also a popular subject for objections to Christianity. That little line from the Apostles’ Creed, which we’ll recite later in the service. That Jesus was “conceived by the Holy Spirit, and born of the virgin Mary.”

Annunciation Bottecelli

And the objection more or less has to do with basic biology: to make one human baby you require one sperm and one egg, and one of the two of those things is rather conspicuously absent from this picture. This couldn’t be true. Because it’s just not how these things work. These are rational, intelligent people, using their God-given reason. And for some of them, unfortunately, you take out that one little Jenga block and sometimes the whole faith itself drops into a mess on the floor. Mary could not be a virgin, and since Mary couldn’t be a virgin, then maybe Jesus isn’t the Messiah, and if Jesus isn’t the Messiah then maybe there’s no God. It renders the whole thing void.

Of course, I am truly sympathetic. In last week’s sermon we heard that doubt is more or less our human default, and on a good day I’m as deep a doubter as there ever were one. From my first step into a church building into my early twenties, doubt has been part of the package, and that includes this little story. The virgin birth.

And yet, as time has gone on this one hasn’t remained as much of sticky spot for me.

The Annunciation Toros Taronetsi

A minister friend of mine once attended panel of various Christian denominations on a university campus, discussing basics of the faith. At the end of the talk there was a Q&A, and this young engineering PHD student approached the mic. He talked about how Christianity was so appealing to him, but there were certain things he could just never believe. “I just can’t believe in something like the virgin birth,” he said. “What do you have to say to someone like me?” This old Greek Orthodox priest took the mic. “Well,” he said. “If you have trouble believing it, just sit with it a little longer.” The student seemed a little perplexed. “No,” he said. “No, you don’t understand. I just can’t believe in the virgin birth.” The priest took a few beats, but finally answered again. “Maybe just sit with it a little longer, then.”

That’s how I more or less feel. Not that someone presented me with a peer-reviewed study or got out some graphs and wrote some formulas on a blackboard to convince me. But I’ve become content with resting in the mystery of it. Trusting that there’s a deeper truth there that’s beyond simple scientific investigation. And besides, stacked up against, say, the resurrection of the dead or the creation of the universe itself, the virgin birth kinda seems like small potatoes. On the miracle scale anyway.

Now, having said all of the above. I do think the question of biology can take us away from another part of this story. One that’s at least equally important.[ii]

“Here I am,” Mary says in response to Gabriel. “Here I am, servant of the Lord; let it be with me… according to your word.” Here I am, let it be with me.

Now, that doesn’t sound like much of a big deal, does it? All the renaissance paintings with their bright colours, solemn faces and halos don’t really do the thing much justice. It’s all just so… lovely. Isn’t it?

Problem is that the situation itself ain’t actually so lovely.

The Annuciation Tanner

I share this fact just about every year and it still blows my mind every time I hear it. But women in Mary’s culture get engaged and married around age 10, 11, 12. Meaning that though undoubtedly women grew up much faster in the past, Mary’s still more or less a child. She’s young. She’s never had a baby before. That’s scary enough, considering that just having a baby’s more likely to kill you. No meds, no epidurals, no penicillin. Judging by that, it’s safe to read at leas a little anxiety in her voice.

And it that’s not bad enough for you, consider what this baby’s gonna do to her life.

The writer Philip Yancey tells a story about a young woman who once had the courage to stand up in front of their relatively conservative church congregation. She stood to admit something that everyone already knew: “We have seen her hyperactive son running up and down the aisles every Sunday,” Jenkins writes.

“Cynthia had taken the lonely road of bearing an illegitimate child and caring for him after his father decided to skip town. Cynthia’s sin was no worse than many others, and yet, as she told us, it had such conspicuous consequences. She could not hide the result of that single act of passion, stuck out as it did from her abdomen for months until a child emerged to change every hour of every day for the rest of her life. No wonder the Jewish teenager Mary felt greatly troubled: she faced the same prospects even without the act of passion.”[iii]

We tend to skip over, or forget, the fact that Mary’s engaged to Joseph when the angel visits. Engaged, not married. Which you will probably know is a scandalous thing in her culture, and was in ours until very recently.

I mean, even if she could get Joseph to buy it, what about everyone else? “I swear, it was the Holy Spirit” would probably fly just as well with her neighbours as it would for you or me. Like the woman in Yancy’s story points out: she could hide that baby bump for a while, but soon morning sickness and her extended stomach would eventually give her away. Everybody would know soon enough. And it wouldn’t be pretty.

Mary’s “yes” is a huge deal. Because in saying “yes,” she’s not only agreeing to the physical and emotional toll of pregnancy. She’s agreeing to become a pariah. An object of shame and ridicule from her neighbours and her friends. Maybe even being cast out by her family. In fact, her “yes” is cross-shaped. Pointing us forward to the shame and suffering of her own Son on Good Friday. An event that the angel says will one day pierce her heart.

So even though the virgin birth might be hard to wrap our minds around, perhaps equally as unbelievable is the fact that Mary says “yes.” That she consents to the Spirit. To carrying Christ. Even though it will cost her everything else. All on a little promise from God.

The annunciation Our Lady of Pity

Now, we’re a Protestant Church here. Protestant Christians, unlike Roman Catholics, or the Eastern Orthodox can be rather suspicious of elevating Mary too high, lest we mistake her for Jesus, and start reciting our rosaries or something. But we should have no problem seeing her as a great example. The first disciple. Some commentators even say that Mary is greatest disciple. And sets the pattern for every disciple after her.[iv]

And the thing is that she’s not an example based on her purity, or her morality. There’s nothing special or unique about Mary. In fact, as a young pregnant, unmarried woman she has no power, no accomplishments. No physical strength, no education, no success, no enlightened political ideals. She brings nothing in worldly terms to the table. But that’s the point. What she’s an example of is faith, as close to pure faith as we can get.

She’s an example of faith because she trusts in two things:

First, she trusts that there is a God at work. A God who is redeeming God’s people and the whole of creation, even if the evidence isn’t immediately apparent. Like, do you think she deduces that by looking around the grimy shack she lives in? No.

And the second thing she trusts is, that—in spite of her lowliness, in spite of her inexperience, in spite of her lack of anything altogether—that the same God who is redeeming is at work in her. In the child she carries. “My spirit rejoices in God my Saviour,” she says. Meaning her son, who is also God’s Son. The same God at work in creation works in people like her for their great good and God’s greater glory. That’s what the Magnificat, the song she sings is all about. “My soul magnifies the Lord, every generation calls me blessed.” Because in this baby God has already set a whole new world in motion. I’m in on it.” This makes her an example of faith, if not the example of faith.

Annunciation Jesus MAFA

And not only is she an example of faith, but she also shows what faith does to us. Because she trusts that there is a God who throws down the mighty and lifts the lowly, one who feeds the hungry and brings comfort to the afflicted, one who will usher in his everlasting reign of peace, and this God is at work in her and her life. It means she can face anything. Whether it’s the trouble and pain of labour. Whether it’s the shame and humiliation launched at her by everyone close to her. Or even the heart-piercing loss of a child. Through faith, God gives her the strength to “let it be with me according to your Word.” The courage to face anything, no matter how impossible it seems. And this power’s available to her because she trusts, in the words of the angel that “all things are possible with God.”

Mary is the example of faith. She trusts that there is a God. And not only is there a God, but that God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself, and at work in her. And with this faith, she can face anything.

Blue Madonna

And the good news, dear friends, is that same power—the life-giving power of the Holy Spirit—is available to us.

So whether you’re facing physical hardship. Childbirth or illness or pain. Cancer or hunger or otherwise. On account of God, you can do it.

Whether you’re facing shame or humiliation. Whether you’ve dropped the ball or blown up your life. Whether everyone’s turned their back on you. Or if you’ve simply got to do what’s right an suffer the consequences. On account of God, you can make it!

Or if you’re facing loss. The loss of a job, the loss of a marriage, the loss of a spouse. The death of a loved one. Or your death, or even—heaven-forbid—the death of a child! Not matter what may pierce your heart. On account of God you can take it!

And all you need is nothing. Nothing but a willingness, to come to our Creator with open hands, and an open heart. A willingness to give over your life, trusting that with God all things are possible.

May it be with each of us according to the promise he made to our ancestor, to Abraham, and Mary. The one he has fulfilled in Jesus Christ. May it be with me, may it be with you according to this Word. And may your soul magnify the Lord, and your spirit rejoice in God our Saviour.

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. AMEN.

[i] The great Protestant theologian Karl Barth points out that this is an act of creation rather than simple paternity. “In the Old and New Testaments the Holy Spirit is God Himself in his creative movement to his creation.” Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, III.2, ed. Thomas Torrance and G.W. Bromiley (Peabody: Henrikson, 1977), 333.

[ii] Wolfhart Pannenberg and Jurgen Moltmann, two theologians who both affirm the reality of creation, resurrection, and life of the world to come, nonetheless do not believe that the virgin birth is an “essential” Christian belief as the scripture passages are only from two gospels and seem to be more theologically rather than historically focused.

[iii] Philip Yancey, “The Visited Planet,” in Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas (Farmington: Plough, 2001), 256-7.

[iv] Michael S. Horton, “Jesus’ Greatest Disciple,” in Modern Reformation, July 3, 2024 https://www.modernreformation.org/resources/essays/jesus-greatest-disciple