Do not be afraid, some thoughts on the anxious days before Christmas

“Mary, do not be afraid…”

--Luke 1:30

 

For some reason this morning I woke at 5am, wide awake, thinking about baking and presents that need wrapping and even though I wanted to go back to sleep, instead I got up, fed the cats, mixed up dough for bread, and went for a walk, hoping to clear my head.  Outside the world was beautiful and dark, whispers of clouds gathered here and there in the sky and on the horizon. But mostly this beautiful vault of darkness hovered over me, pin-points of starlight here and there, and the bright moon dazzling in its slow descent before the dawn.  It was peaceful and quiet and calming to be out there in the midst of it.  As I walked at the park, I passed a neighbor who stopped to ask me about my upcoming surgery. (Could be that is what woke me...) She wanted to know if I was okay? Was I afraid?

 What a beautiful way to start the day. An angel of mercy come to me out of the darkness to offer a word of kindness and encouragement. And, at this time of year isn’t that just what we all need.   

In the Gospel of Luke there is that famous story of another angel who shows up unannounced with a message that begins in a similar way: Do not be afraid.

 Of course that is a little different from meeting someone in the park. If I was just sitting at the kitchen counter with my morning coffee and a bagel, reading the funny pages (as we used to call them), and an angel appeared next to the refrigerator telling me not to be afraid, I think my gut reaction would be to scream like a little girl. PLUS… that kind of talk doesn’t usually bode well. It’s kind of like when people say: This won’t hurt a bit. You won’t even feel it[1]. 

 And yet, an important part of the angel’s message is in those four words, “Do not be afraid…” and I think perhaps that part of the angel’s message has been missing in my Christmas. Despite all the joyous trappings: the lights, the trees, the decorations, so much of how we celebrate Christmas is wrapped up in fear. Instead of resting in the joy of the season, how often do I find myself anxious and worried; afraid that I’m not doing enough, that perhaps I forgot something, a present for someone, an ingredient in a recipe, the egg nog in the trunk of the car… There is even the overriding fear of not getting everything just right. Not having that “perfect Christmas.”

But the angel says, Do not be afraid. 

 And, this morning as I ponder that message I hear something else.  Something much more personal to each and every one of us, yet particular to the story of Mary. What is she being asked to do? On a very basic level, she is being asked to save the world.  But, how…  Does she need to raise an army? Gain political power? Get rich? Become a martyr? Start a charity? No… She is simply asked to yes to God and to be herself, live her normal daily life, the life of a simple ordinary woman in 1^st century Palestine. To be who she was made to be.  And through that ordinary everyday life, as a wife and mother, as a refugee and a widow, to bear God into the world.  Of course, Mary is asked this in a very specific way, for she will literally bear the child Jesus into the world—first in her womab and then on her hip, in her arms, and at her side.  Wherever she goes, whatever she does. If she goes to the market, she is bearing Him to the market with her.  When she goes to the well to draw water, Christ goes with her. He is present there at the well, in her, through her, with her.  When she sits in quiet contemplating the beauty of a sunset, Christ is there.  Whether lighting a candle, or humming a song, or going to visit a sick friend, Christ is present in her, with her, through her. 

 That is a message for us to remember this Christmas, that –like Mary-- we are all called to be bearers of Christ into the world. We are all called to be God’s hands and face in the world; we have been given that as a gift.  That is the real gift of Christmas—that God is with us… wherever we go, whatever we do, He is with us. So, if you don’t get those lights up, if you forget to buy presents, or if you happen to leave the egg nog in the trunk of the car (for a week), do not be afraid…

 In fact, that is what we were made for.  And so what do we have to be afraid of? In fact, here’s an idea for this Christmas, a gift that needs no wrapping, and no bows:  why don’t we let go of all those fears and worries and rest in the presence of the one who was born this day in a stable in Bethlehem, the one who is with us always—even unto the ends of the age-- and the one whose hands and feet and face and love we are called to be.  If we could do that, instead of being afraid, we might just relax and Rejoice.  

Merry Christmas, my dear friends.

 

 

 

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[1] If you’ve ever awakened during the middle of a colonoscopy, you’ll understand the importance of anesthesia…

On fear and silence and the end of Mark's Gospel

 “…and they said nothing to anyone,
for they were afraid.”

--Mark 16:8

 

 

This morning I finished the Gospel of Mark.  There is so much to say about this shortest of the gospels.  Most scholars now think of it as the earliest gospel, asserting that its conciseness is a sign of its chronological place. One theory is that the other synoptic gospels derive their basic structure from it, embellishing it with details from lost sources, including a collection of sayings attributed to Jesus. The late literary critic Harold Bloom valued Mark’s gospel for its mysterious urgency and dramatic flair.  It is often referred to as a Passion narrative with a long introduction. 

 

Like all the gospels, all of scripture—I guess—I like it for its strangeness.  With this gospel, in particular, I am drawn to the way it seems to rush along, beginning in media res, then rushing head-long into the action, with Jesus “at once…” going out, and the disciples “at once…” following Him and the demons “at once…” crying out and the sick “at once…” being healed, etc etc.  As Bloom, and others, pointed out, everything in this story happens with a strange urgency.  Some translations use the word “immediately” (cf 1:12, 1:18, 1:20, 1:42, etc etc) to express this urgent movement.  I find this element of the book compelling and strange and worth meditation.

 

But this morning I am thinking of a different element from the end of this Gospel.  In my New Jerusalem Bible there is a note on 16:8 that informs me Mark probably originally ended there with the story of the  women who witnessed some manifestation of the resurrection and, overwhelmed by it, went away in silence and fear. No “immediately,” no “at once,” but only a kind of strange quiet and stillness—as if suddenly everything stopped. Ending as it began, in media res (which is Latin for “in the middle of things”).  The scholars speculate that the next 12 verses were an addendum derived from the other gospels and added in order to harmonize Mark with Matthew and Luke.  Those kind of issues, I have no insight into.  I leave that to the historians and the scholars with their degrees and dissertations.

 

My thought today is only of that image of the women saying nothing to anyone, “because they were afraid.”  They have received the “good news” of the resurrection, of the conquering of death, of the return to life of their beloved friend… Why wouldn’t they rush off to share this news? Why wouldn’t they be blowing a trumpet and crying from the hilltops to anyone and everyone?  Yet they “said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.” 

 

Why? What were they afraid of? Looking foolish?  Being ridiculed? Rejection? I think quite often I remain silent out of fear of how someone will react. What they might say to me. How they will treat me… Or worse, that they might question me, challenge me, make me begin to doubt what I know is true.

 

I fear that they won’t really hear what I am saying, but only the weakness of my words, my failure to express myself adequately.  Often, when I am overwhelmed by an experience, my words fail me. Too often, some might say, I flounder a bit and then suddenly (at once, and with a strange kind of immediacy) I melt into tears. And feel like a fool. 

 

What was it that made the women leave the tomb of Jesus and go away in silence and fear?  What was the author (Mark) trying to say about their experience? About the experience of the early church? Why that fearful silence?

 

It forces me to remember the many times I too remained silent for fear of how people might react.  But it also makes me aware of the importance of another kind of silence. Of the willingness to listen when someone comes to you with something to say. The willingness to hear them out and even to let them have the last word.  The willingness to listen, openly and completely; the willingness to listen without feeling a need to correct, or challenge or show my own intelligence.  To just listen to the message that the other person brings, their experience, their perception, their desire to share, and their witness to the wideness of the world.

 

There are so many lessons to be found in the Gospels, and even a few to be found in the footnotes.

“Do not be afraid…” Some thoughts on fear and the security of the law

 

 “…do not be afraid…” Matthew 1:20

 

How many times have I read this section of Matthew, these first two chapters that are so familiar from Christmas readings and church services?  They are so familiar that I hardly pay attention to them anymore. If I am reading the Bible, I tend to skim over them. Who needs another list of begats and begottens? We all know what happens. Mary gets pregnant. Jesus is born. The shepherds and the Wise Guys notice.  And then Herod gets mad and bad stuff happens. 

 Some things, some stories, some truths, some people, seem so familiar that we hardly notice them.  We begin to take them for granted. They can’t surprise us anymore (we think).  We put a label on them and file them away and stop paying attention. He’s my sports friend.  She likes to read. Math is hard. Cats are evil. (And so is okra.)  It makes life easier (we think). 

Or do we?

And so here I am once again reading the Nativity story and thinking: Yada Yada Yada… Yeah. I know. Let’s get to the good part.  But then suddenly I hear a voice in my head saying:  Isn’t it interesting that this version (Matthew’s) focuses on Joseph more than Mary[1]?  Hmmm.  That’s right.  I wonder if I ever noticed that before? 

 And then I saw those words:

… the angel of the Lord appeared to him and
said, ‘Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid
to take Mary home as your wife…’

 And I wondered, why did the angel say that? Why tell him not to be afraid?  If we look at the context—something I always remind my students to do—we see that Joseph was about to divorce Mary.  My translation says, “Joseph, being an upright man and wanting to spare her disgrace, decided to divorce her informally.”(Mt 1:19)

 Basically, Joseph was following the law. He was being compassionate and merciful about it; he could have had her taken outside of the town and stoned to death. But, instead he was going to quietly and without public display abandon her.  It was the right thing to do.  Yes, it would spare her disgrace, but what about him? It would also spare him the disgrace of becoming a cuckold; married to an adulteress and raising another man’s child.  What would that do to his public standing? What would that do to his reputation? His carpentry business? That was too much! He couldn’t risk it.

 And perhaps that is why the angel says: Don’t be afraid.

 Fear not. Don’t be afraid.  That is a constant refrain in scripture.  God is constantly reminding us not to be afraid.

 Not because bad things won’t happen. Not because Faith makes us immune to sorrows and hardships. But, because regardless of what happens—God is with us. And truly, that is all that matters!

So, even when the hurricane comes (or two of them at the same time), even when the flood waters rise, even when your fiancé suddenly shows up pregnant—don’t be afraid.  Be secure in God’s love.

 Joseph isn’t doing anything wrong. In fact, he is going above and beyond the call of duty by intending to divorce Mary quietly. So, why is he sent this message: Do not be afraid?

 Is it because too often when we turn to the law or rules to defend our position, we are searching for something that isn’t there: stability, safety, security.  We are acting not out of love, not out of faith, but out of fear? 

 Even if we are trying to do the right thing, are we holding back? Are we hiding behind the law to avoid doing the harder thing? Protecting ourselves by hiding behind the law? Protecting ourselves from gossip? From scandal? From discomfort or hardship?

 But, like Joseph, are we actually only protecting ourselves from God’s grace? From letting ourselves fall completely into His hands?  From giving ourselves fully to His beautiful, mysterious, loving plan?   

And is the real problem here simply that we think we know how this story goes? So we don’t bother to pay attention to the truth.   That God is in charge.  What are we afraid of?

 Open your eyes. Pay attention to the voice that whispers in your ear: Be not afraid. God is calling you, and His plans are much bigger and much better than anything you could imagine.

 Do not be afraid.  

 

   

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[1] The Nativity of Luke focuses almost completely on Mary (annunciation, visitation, presentation, storing things up in her heart), while the Nativity of Matthew focuses almost solely on Joseph (and his dreams).  I don’t know why, but—there you go.