In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, 27 to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. 28 And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.”[a] 29 But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. 30 The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. 31 And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. 32 He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. 33 He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” 34 Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?”[b] 35 The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born[c] will be holy; he will be called Son of God. 36 And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son, and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. 37 For nothing will be impossible with God.” 38 Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.
-Luke 1:26-38 NRSVUE
Here I am; Let it be.
“Thank God I’m not Mary.” This is what I think every Christmas and every Holy Week.
Her whole world gets turned upside down, and she responds, “Here I am; let it be.”
That is rarely my reaction when God, or others, “trash” my life. Anxiety, fear, anger, resentment? Sure. But a willingness to name and claim a space in upheaval is rarely what I want to do.
We are often told that Mary’s greatest gift was her yes. But I wonder if it was actually her ability to be still and present in fear that brought the babe to the manger.
In a world where we do everything we can to dispel and avoid discomfort and fear, Mary valiantly stood still. She was a maverick when most of us cower behind busyness, importance, privilege, and a million other things to say away from the fear of discomfort.
What does it look like for us to be courageous in stillness? What does it look like for us to say, “Here I am” and to mean it?
My prayer for us, as we move with Mary to the manger, is that we will find the courage to be still with her in our own fear, anxiety, and desire to numb away the presence of God with us.
The Very Rev. Katie Churchwell
Dean
St. Paul’s Cathedral, OKC