Second Sunday of Advent December 5, 2010 “Mary's Ponderings” Reverend Michael D. Powell Luke 2:13-19

This morning we’re celebrating the Sacrament of Holy Communion, and it might seem at first blush to be a disconnect. It’s the Second Sunday of Advent, a season of anticipation and preparation for new life, the birth of the Christ Child. Communion is a sacramental recollection of Christ’s suffering and death. The two don’t seem to go together. But they do, and this morning we’ll again join with Mary, the mother of Jesus, to make the connection. *

Last week we looked at the death of Mary, which tradition tells us occurred when she was 64 years old. Our scripture this morning takes us back to when the 14 year old Mary heard the Christmas prophecies that accompanied her son’s birth and “pondered these things in her heart.” She pondered these things for many years, and then, finally, on Good Friday, at the hour of her son’s death, she was finally beginning to understand the true meaning of Christmas. So this morning I want to pick up the story when Mary was just 49 years old, and a witness to her son’s death on a cross. Perhaps it will shed new light on Christmas for us as well.

Mary pondered the day she confessed to her fiancé, Joseph that she was pregnant, and she remembered how he was shocked and disappointed and had at first resolved to quietly break off their engagement. But then he’d gone to sleep one night and come running to her the next morning, telling her about the most amazing dream he’d had. It had seemed so real. An angel had appeared to him and told him not to break off the engagement after all, that the child in Mary’s womb was conceived of the Holy Spirit. The angel instructed them to name the child Jesus, which in Aramaic means “God saves,” because he would save his people from their sins. [Matthew 1:19-25] Mary remembered that they had been overwhelmed and hadn’t understood, but they were obedient. They named their son Jesus. Mary must have pondered that all her life. How was her son to save his people from their sins? And now, 33 years later, at the foot of the cross, she was pondering still. How is God at work in the midst of this terrible tragedy?

She must have remembered how the shepherds had come to the place of her son’s birth with stories of how an angel of the Lord had appeared to them and said: “I am bringing good news of great joy for all people, for to you is born this day a savior.” That word again - savior! What could it possibly mean? And the shepherds told of a heavenly chorus of angels singing in the night sky, praising God and declaring peace on earth. How was her son to bring peace on earth?

And Mary must have also pondered that day when she and Joseph took their newborn baby to the temple to make a sacrifice in accordance with Mosaic Law. And there, coming across the temple courts, was an elderly man whom everyone regarded as a holy man. He was ecstatic; saying that now he could die in peace, for his eyes had beheld the salvation of Israel. She remembered how Simeon had prophesied: “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel…” And then, there at the foot of the cross, stricken with grief, Mary must have shuddered as she pondered what had happened next. The elderly Simeon had looked directly into her eyes and said: “And a sword will piece your own soul too.” [Luke 2:22-32] Such foreboding words; she had pondered those words all her life, and only now was she beginning to understand.

As Mary witnessed one of the soldiers offering her dying son a mixture of wine and myrrh to deaden the pain, she must have remembered the gifts of the Magi. They had brought gold, frankincense and myrrh. Myrrh was oil used for anointing. The priests used it to anoint holy things in the temple. But its other use was for embalming the dead. What a strange gift to bring a child! Why had them given him myrrh?

This morning, on the Second Sunday of Advent, we celebrate the Sacrament of Holy Communion. They seem so different, but we cannot truly understand one without the other. As Mary pondered all these things in her heart, she began to realize the meaning of Christmas as the birth of a savior who would bring peace on earth.

It’s difficult to comprehend. The disciples didn’t understand. As they gathered in the Upper Room with Jesus he tried to tell them with symbols. He took the bread, broke it, and said: “This is my body, broken for you.” They didn’t get it. So, after they had eaten, he took the cup of wine, blessed it and said: “This is my blood poured out for you, for the forgiveness of sin.” They didn’t get it!

It was only after the resurrection that they began to understand the true meaning of Christmas, that God had sent a savior into the world. It was so strange, so unexpected a way for a messiah to come. They began to search the scriptures, and they discovered that ancient prophecies of Isaiah, words that had been applied to the nation of Israel, helped them to understand God’s saving work through Christ as a suffering servant: “He was despised and rejected, a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity…surely he has borne our infirmities and carried our diseases…but he was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities.” [Isa. 53:3-5]

How do we understand Communion during Advent? How do we understand a God who loves the world so much that on Christmas divine love takes on flesh, and then on Good Friday suffers for the sins of the world? What are we, modern, progressive Christians, to make of these symbols of our faith?

In 1400 Michelangelo created The Pieta, one of the most powerful symbols of all, a symbol of love that suffers unto death. Jesus has been crucified and his body has been removed from the cross. He is about to be laid in the tomb, but Mary holds her beloved son in her arms one last time.

The Pieta is a graphic depiction of a mother’s love for her son, but Michelangelo intended for it to be an outward and a visible symbol of an inward reality, the eternity of God’s great love for all the sons and daughters of the earth. This is why Christ was born at Christmas, that we might know God’s undying love, the love we celebrate this morning in the Sacrament of Holy Communion. Thanks be to God. Amen.

*In 2008 Adam Hamilton preached a series of sermons at The Church of the Resurrection in Leawood, Kansas, entitled, “Not a Silent Night.” I am indebted to Rev. Hamilton’s scholarship for much of the material I share this morning about Mary’s story.