This week, the first week of Advent, is all about hope.  Hope. Something I often struggle to define, but often see and understand most clearly through poetry.  Some of you may also know that I am a birder as well, so I leapt at the opportunity to include a certain poem in today’s worship. I’d like to start by sharing that poem with you all. As I said, I find that it helps me to define hope. It’s by Emily Dickinson and you may be very familiar with it already, so I hope you won’t mind hearing it again:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.

     Raise your hand if you've ever spent time with this poem before. Now raise your hand if you have always felt full of hope for what lies ahead. Even if I can't see you all, I imagine that not everybody that raised their hand the first time kept it raised for the second question. Hope is difficult to summon sometimes.  When we are in our darkest places, hope can seem the furthest away.  When you feel singled out when you haven’t wanted to be. Like there’s too much pressure being put on you. Like “hope” is the very last thing on your mind or in your heart. Like that gale, that storm, really might be too strong for the little bird to stay gripped to the perch in your soul.

     So I’m going to ask you another question: When is the last time somebody asked you to do something for them and you thought “There's no way I could do that!”? “Why would you even ask me that? Who do you think I am? Ask somebody younger.  Ask somebody smarter. Ask somebody older. Ask somebody wealthier. Ask somebody who believes that they can do it, because I sure can’t.”  Or maybe you wanted to respond by saying “No, thank you. I don't have time, I don't need the added stress. My life is just fine how it is right now, so why don't you find somebody else.”

     In our reading today we hear about Gabriel appearing to Mary and saying to her “Greetings favored one, the Lord is with you!”. Now if I were Mary, that's the first bit that puts me on edge. “Favored?  What have I done that makes me favored? And why would somebody need to tell me that the Lord is with me, I already know that. I know the Lord is always with me, so why is this angel showing up out of nowhere telling me I am a “favored one” and needing to remind me that the Lord is with me, what is this angel about to tell me? I'm a little bit suspicious, and probably more than a little freaked out about the fact that there is an angel right in front of me.” Talk about a strong gale! It sounds like Mary had a similar response. In our reading it says she was much perplexed by these words and pondered that sort of greeting and what it might mean. You and me both, Mary!

     But Gabriel goes on to say to her “Do not be afraid Mary, for you have found favor with God.”  Ohhh, that’s why he called me “favored”. But I haven’t done anythi– “And now you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him 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 ancestor David.”  Ok, if I were Mary, this is the point at which I want to wave my hands and say “Wow wow wow wow, what are you talking about, Gabriel?”  The storm winds are a’blowin’! Luke records that Mary says, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” But something tells me that was maybe about the fifth question she would have had.  “Why me?” “Do you have the right person?” “Do you know who I am? I’m a nobody” “How many other people did you ask first?” 

     Have you thought about that?  Maybe Gabriel had gone to other women first, appeared to them and said “Greetings favored one! The Lord is with you.” To a wealthy woman, to a wife of a rabbi, to an older woman, to a queen.  How might they have responded?  “Sorry, darling, you must have the wrong house.” “What would I get out of this?” “Sorry, not today.” “No, thank you, I have enough to manage.” “No.” “Not me.” “I don’t think so.”  Gabriel was left standing on those doorsteps, and thinking “Uhhh, ok. Let me try one more place.  Let me visit that 15-year old girl engaged to Joseph. She doesn’t have an impressive, notable family background, she isn’t wealthy, but something tells me, she may be the one.”

     It’s true, we don’t know anything about Mary’s background.  Luke tells us “the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary.”  That’s it. No genealogy for her, no mention of what tribe of Israel her family comes from, who her parents are, where they are from. Just. Nothing. That is who Gabriel appears to, that is who God has chosen to extend this honor to. 

     Gabriel doesn’t abandon pursuing Mary when she asks “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” He doesn’t think “Ugh, here’s another one who will close the door in my celestial face!”  No! Gabriel explains to her that her relative Elizabeth (that’s the only detail we get about Mary’s family background, she is somehow related to Elizabeth) is pregnant, even in her old age, even when everyone believed her to be barren.  “For nothing is impossible with God.”  Nothing is impossible with God.  Mary needs no other reminder. She starts feeling that flutter of wings, that thing with feathers in her soul. She feels the truth of that statement in her heart. She is moved from trepidation and fear, to hope and trust in the goodness and power of God. “Here am I,” she says, “the servant of the Lord”. How else could we consider ourselves when faced with the statement, “Nothing is impossible with God.”  All I can do is say, “You are so great, I am yours,” or as Mary puts it “Let it be with me according to your word.” 

     Let it be. Let it be. Whisper words of wisdom. Let it be.  Apologies for diverting from our Emily Dickinson poem, but I have spent the last three days watching the three-part documentary “Get Back” all about the Beatles recording the album “Let It Be”, culminating with their rooftop concert. Now, the Beatles are my favorite band, so I may be a bit biased, but I would heartily recommend checking it out if you have a spare 8 hours, because it tells a great story of hope even when things look dark and just how well music can communicate hope to us.  One of the magical things you see in the series is Paul McCartney bringing “Let It Be” to the group. He has said that he dreamt of his mother appearing to him saying “It will be alright, just let it be.” A comforting sentiment at a time when Paul felt out of his depth, overwhelmed, probably struggling to find that little bird of hope. His mother had passed when he was only 14 (right around the same age of Mary in our reading from Luke) and yet his heart knew that he needed to remember his mother, Mary McCartney, at that moment. She had a message for him. Maybe not quite “Greetings favored one, the Lord is with you”, but an assurance that hope is still possible, that it will be ok. If we let it be.

     The comfort Mother Mary offers in the song is offered now to us.  Mary the unwed teenager has been there, she has said yes to God. She has shown hope in all that God can do. She has said “let it be”. It will be ok because I have hope. I believe in what the Lord can do. I can feel those fluttering wings perched in my soul and the breeze they are creating is real. That small beat of hope will become the heartbeat of a tiny child born into this world as we were all born. Let us let this beat of hope fill our souls and drive us on towards the birth of Christ. Towards an Advent that is filled with flutters of feathers, flurries of questions, and dreams of comforting songs that will see us through the darkest storms. Amen.
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Resources consulted while writing this sermon:

• Kegler, E., & Terfa, N. (Hosts). (2020, December 7). You Better Watch Out (No. 104) [Audio podcast episode], starting at 29:11. In Cafeteria Christian. Alter Guild Network. https://cafeteriachristian.libsyn.com/104-you-better-watch-out
• Jackson, P. (Director). (2021). The Beatles: Get Back [3-Part Documentary on Disney+]. Walt Disney Pictures, Apple Corps, WingNut Films.
• "Hope is the thing with feathers" Emily Dickinson from The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, edited by Thomas H. Johnson. Copyright © 1951, 1955, 1979, 1983 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College.

     “If you can’t speak, you sing. If you can’t sing, you dance.” That’s how I’ve heard musicals described. You can tell how much the emotion in the story is ramping up because the characters who are speaking will start singing. And, if it’s really important, they’ll start dancing. Sometimes the Bible is like this. We can tell that an event is important and highly emotional because one of the people in the story sings a song about it. One of my favorite scriptures is the song Mary sings after agreeing to be Jesus’ mother: “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for God has looked with favor on the lowliness of God’s servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is God’s name (Luke 1:46-49).” Beautiful, right? Mary, who sings with joy about being pregnant with a child she didn’t expect is a spiritual descendant of a person of one of the figures of today’s reading, Hannah, who will sing a song of joy for the child she desperately wanted.

     Remember the words of Mary’s song? Here’s part of Hannah’s. It is from 1 Samuel 2:
‘My heart exults in the Lord; my strength is exalted in my God.  My mouth derides my enemies, because I rejoice in my victory. ‘There is no Holy One like the Lord, no one besides you; there is no Rock like our God.”

     The themes are clearly similar, even more so when you read the whole two songs together. These are women of a deep faith, a faith that will forever alter their lives. They are confident that God will care for the ones considered lowly in their community. When they count themselves among the lowly, they know that they can call upon God for help.

     Part of Hannah’s story is about the way women can be pitted against each other. As Dr. Valerie Bridgeman notes in her commentary about the text, this is a culture and an era where women who are able to marry, become pregnant, and have children, boys in particular, are highly prized. Any women who cannot do those things in that order will be considered lacking. Dr. Bridgeman notes that this is one of many stories where women are in relationships with the same man and one can have children and one has not yet. Rachel and Leah were sisters married to Jacob, when he really had only wanted to marry one of them. Sarai enslaved Hagar, also giving her husband permission to try to conceive with her when Sarai was unable to become pregnant. Embedded in each of these stories are two women trying to live up the expectations of their time and a man who clearly prefers one of them, often the one who has not been able to successfully have a child. Conflict was bound to arise.

     As we read these kinds of stories, and this example in particular, in one of her commentaries on this text, Dr. Wil Gafney invites us to consider what would it feel like to fulfill all of society’s expectations of you, and still be less favored and obviously loved less? And, in her commentary on the text, Dr. Bridgeman reminds readers of the precarious life a woman who does not have children, sons in particular. Not only will she face a certain amount of scorn and derision both within and outside of her family, should her husband die, she would likely find herself with no one to care for her. While Hannah’s husband’s deep love for her was appreciated, it did not, alone, grant her security or a place among honorable women in her community. Even aside from the issue of wanting children and not being able to have them, a heartbreaking feeling that I imagine some listening to this sermon today are familiar with, today’s reading is about someone who is living in a tense household where she is often concerned about her long-term security. No wonder she weeps and calls out to God.

     Dr. Alphonetta Wines points out that in her prayer to God, Hannah does not seek retribution against Peninnah. Instead, she prays to God to help her conceive and promises to set her child aside as one specially consecrated to God. She is at the temple in Shiloh, a center for worship in the time before David had the temple built in Jerusalem, when we see her praying. She and her husband have offered sacrifices. The priest there, Eli, initially mistakes her grief for intoxication. He assumed she was drunkenly, silently mumbling to herself the prayers that people usually prayed aloud. And, while some people certainly do turn to drink during times of lament, Hannah had not. And, she stands up for herself, clarifying that she is sober but deeply troubled. Rather than pouring drink into herself to cover the grief, she has been pouring out her soul to God.

     Dr. Bridgeman encourages readers to pay attention here to the fact that Hannah is reaching out on her own behalf. While much of this story is shaped by things she cannot control- particularly her ability to procreate- she is not completely without agency. According to Dr. Bridgeman, this “is the story of a woman who petitions on her own behalf and does what it takes, physically and ritually, to try to have a child.” Who knows what prayers her husband might have lifted up on her behalf. He worked hard to demonstrate his love. I can’t imagine that he wouldn’t have prayed for her. But, this is really Hannah’s story, so Hannah’s prayers are the prayers we read. And, it is Hannah’s prayers that move the priest Eli to say, “Go in peace; the God of Israel grant the petition you have made to God.” And, Hannah, who had been so aggrieved that she had trouble eating and drinking, was comforted by this assurance. She went to her husband, nourished her body, and was sad no longer.

     She and Elkanah offer prayers at Shiloh once more, and return home, where she would eventually conceive. She would name her son Samuel, which means, “I have asked him of the Lord.” She would care for the boy, until he was weaned. And, then, keeping her promise, bring him and additional sacrifices to the temple at Shiloh. She would tell Eli, “For this child I prayed; and the Lord has granted me the petition that I made. Therefore I have lent him to the Lord; as long as he lives, he is given to the Lord.” And, then she sings her song of praise, the one I shared a bit of earlier.

     I don’t know where you might hear yourself in this story. Maybe you are Elkanah, trying hard to communicate your love, but missing the mark. Maybe you are Peninnah, turning the bitterness of being less loved into harassment of one who, through no fault of her own, is less successful according to the measures of society. Maybe you’re Hannah, woe-filled and faithful, certain that God will not forget you. Wherever you hear yourself in this story, I pray that you can feel the presence of the God who breaks the bows of the mighty and girds the feeble in strength. May you live as though you know this God is tending to you and act as though God is already working through you.
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Resources consulted while writing this sermon:
Valerie Bridgeman: https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-33-2/commentary-on-1-samuel-14-20-5
Alphonetta Wines: https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-33-2/commentary-on-1-samuel-14-20-3
Wilda C. Gafney, "Proper 6," A Women's Lectionary for the Whole Church: Year W, A Multi-Gospel Single-Year Lectionary (New York: Church Publishing, 2021)

After Annual Meeting on October 23rd, the Maine Conference of the United Church of Christ shared a worship service that any churches in the conference could use.  The Rev. Jonna Jensen preaches and musicians from across the conference, including three of our choir members. Our pastoral intern, Sarah, is also a scripture reader. 

We had some tech issues on Sunday, so not everyone may have been able to see the first part of worship clearly. We decided to share it here, so you can return to it and catch anything you may have missed. 

     What does it mean to be rooted in love? We’ve been talking about it together over the last month. We considered the second creation story in Genesis that reminds us of God’s care and provision for humanity. It shows us that humans are made for one another, to steward creation together, and to build community together. In that scripture, to be rooted in love is to be reminded that humans are a gift given by God to each other.  Imagine what this world could be like if we lived like we were made for each other?

     We have also considered the difficult demand of Mark 10, when the wealthy and devout man asked for guidance on how to more fully live out God’s commands. Jesus tells him that his hoarding of wealth is a barrier to his following God. In that moment, the man is too bereaved at the idea of losing his money to follow Jesus. We don’t know if he eventually does. In that story, to be rooted in love is to give up your excess so that others may have enough. To be rooted in love means that, if you want to follow Jesus, you won’t walk away from difficult demands. Imagine a world where that man could give away the wealth that was binding him. Imagine a world where each of us could give away the privilege that is binding us.

     Our pastoral intern Sarah shared some of her faith journey, reminding us that God is both our refuge and our companion on the journey. For her, her spiritual roots, that is, her keen awareness that God provided protection and safety for her, helped her address self-doubt, self-criticism, and anxiety that challenged her. That is not unlike the testimony Jamie shared today, about how her relationship with Jesus is providing her with healing, and helping her cast out, in particular, a fear of rejection that has been a part of her life for a long time. Imagine a world where all people are as confident that they are as beloved as Sarah and Jamie are, now that they know they are beloved by God for exactly who they are.
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     And, last week, we heard a word from Jeremiah, who showed us a tender God who offers restoration to those who have been harmed. God will gather up those who have scattered. God will carry along those who would usually be left behind. Imagine a world where God has restored the wounded among us... where the ones who struggle most are considered first in the travel. In our scripture today, the Psalmist speaks of those who follow God’s law, meditating on God’s hope for the world, as being like trees plants by streams of water. Their roots are nourished, so their fruit is rich and their leaves are healthy. When we remember and nourish our roots with God, by living like we are made for each other, by giving up the privilege that prevents us from following Jesus, and tending to our relationship with God, we are like these trees planted by the water. The world you imagine... connected, beloved, just... is the fruit of the faith God is rooting in us at this very moment. May we be grateful for these roots and keep working with God to tend them.