Readings

The texts still ringing in our ears suggest point and counterpoint (on the one hand… on the other hand…). On the one hand, we celebrate the glorious history of our salvation. And it is glorious. About ten centuries before Jesus, the Lord promised to David, King of Israel and Judah, an eternal dynasty. And despite all the wars, a long exile, and all the other vicissitudes that accompany life, the Lord fulfills this promise, as the Gospel reminds us: “behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. 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 father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob for ever; and of his kingdom there will be no end.” And this is a reign not only over the house of Jacob. His reign will include all nations, and for this reason one of his servants, Paul, writes to the Christians in the capital of the Roman Empire, which letter we know as “Romans.” “Romans.” Every time we use this name it’s an invitation to recall something of the daring of this letter, directed to the capital, and proclaiming a future for the human race that ignores completely the pretensions of empire. That empire fell—in the West—in the fifth century, and fifteen centuries later the followers of Jesus compose more than 30% of the world’s population and are found in every country of the world.

Yes, it is a glorious history. And we, like the recipients of Paul’s letter, are invited to sense some of this glory in the midst of all that passes for glory in our culture and world.

On the other hand, there’s the continuity between the experience of King David and the Virgin and our quite unglorious experiences on the other. That continuity…

David. King of Israel and Judah, as our lesson opens he’s now in a position to build a temple worthy of the Lord his God. To Nathan his prophet the project seems so obvious, so natural, that he doesn’t even think of consulting the Lord. “Go, do all that is in your heart; for the LORD is with you.” That very night the Lord sends a message to David via Nathan, a combination of good news and bad news. The bad news: you are not to build me a house (a temple); the good news: I will build you a house (a dynasty). This promise of an eternal dynasty sustains the people during the darkest moments of their history, and is the basis for the hope for the Messiah, Son of David.

At the same time, this “you are not to build me a house” represents an enormous danger. Why? Because at that time, the construction of a temple for the king’s god signaled the god’s approval of the king. And this was particularly important for David, who was not himself the son of a king. So not building a temple would be something like winning the presidential election, but not moving into the White House. “No, Mr. Putin, you won’t be visiting President Biden in the White House, but at the Holiday Inn.… It’s actually a very nice suite… OK, I’ll tell him that you won’t be coming at this time…” So David not building the temple places a large question mark over his entire reign, and this may have something to do with the number of rebellions he had to put down.

If we ask the reason for this prohibition, the text gives no clue. There are attempts to answer the question elsewhere in the Old Testament, but here, no.

Mary. Real estate agents tell us that the three most important factors for the value of a home are location, location, and location. In a society that values honor, like Mary’s society, the important factor in marriage is timing: first the marriage, then the pregnancy. This doesn’t seem all that complicated, even for the Lord. Nevertheless, for Mary the order is pregnancy, then marriage, which represents a permanent stain on both Mary’s and Jesus’ reputation. “We were not born of fornication” gets hurled in Jesus’ face (John 8:41).

Again, if we ask what this divine decision was about, we encounter only silence.

That is, both David and Mary experienced what we know all too well, these elements in our life that don’t appear to have any meaning, these absurd elements that hobble our efforts and threaten the most beautiful of our days.

As we recall this dimension in the history of David and Mary, we might recall something St Paul wrote: “And to keep me from being too elated by the abundance of revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan, to harass me, to keep me from being too elated. Three times I besought the Lord about this, that it should leave me; but he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made fully present in weakness.’ I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me” (2 Corinthians 12:7-9 [RSV*]).

I wonder if these lines from Paul have something to do with David’s and Mary’s experience.

“Too elated” is a wonderfully diplomatic phrase, something like Alan Greenspan’s “irrational exuberance.” If the Old Testament is any indication, it’s a regular problem for God’s people. Moses: “Take heed lest you forget the LORD your God… when you have eaten and are full, and have built goodly houses and live in them, and when your herds and flocks multiply, and your silver and gold is multiplied, and all that you have is multiplied, then your heart be lifted up, and you forget the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage” (Deut 8:11-14).“Too elated” indeed.

“Too elated” is not, of course, a typically Episcopal problem. We “solved” that problem when we drove out the Methodists a couple centuries back! So we can hear week after week that we are sons and daughters of the living God, that we can talk directly to our Creator without any intermediary, no roaming or data charges—and we’re not elated. This is not necessarily a good thing. It’s like being in the driver’s seat of a Ferrari or Jaguar and not being tempted to go even a mile over the speed limit. We could do with a bit more elation. But I digress.

Whatever we do with the earlier part of Paul’s text, his more general point “power is made fully present in weakness” speaks directly to David and Mary and each one of us.

It’s not the script most of us would have chosen. Supermanwould have been more like it. (And the nice thing about playing Superman was that all you needed was a towel with one of the narrow sides tied around the neck!) Power, power, and more power.

What Mary is presented with is rather different. All her weakness and vulnerability remain. But what will grow within her is nothing other than the Son of God. And through that One those lines from her song will be fulfilled: “He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, / and has lifted up the lowly. / He has filled the hungry with good things, / and the rich he has sent away empty.”

And what the angel presented to Mary, our gracious God presents to each one of us. The weakness and the vulnerability don’t disappear. But what God would grow within us and among us is nothing less than the down payment on the fulfillment of all the hopes and dreams captured in the carols we will start singing this evening.

The Christmas story gives the absurdity and the futility of the world its full due. If the stories of David, Mary, and Paul are any indication, God’s not above using some of that to prevent too much elation. But at the end of the day, neither the absurdity nor the futility get the last word. “Power is made fully present in weakness,” and through Mary’s “let it be to me according to your word” the Savior of the world is again at our doorstep.