Old Story New Story
In the sequence of Sundays in Advent, today is Mary’s Sunday. After a candle for the patriarchs, the prophets, John the Baptist, we light a candle for Mary. She has good news – ‘I am having a baby,’ good news enough for her to make the hazardous journey into the hill country of Judea to greet Elizabeth, her cousin. Elizabeth thanks Mary, blesses her: Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb. They are familiar words for those who pray the Rosary, buy we see here that they are taken straight from the Gospel. They celebrate the birth of Jesus, the Messiah, the One-Who-Comes, whose name means ‘the-one who-saves-his-people-from-their-sins.’ That really is an ID for Jesus, and indeed something to celebrate.
But wait a moment! I am talking as if this is their story. It is that, but it is more. As a friend of mine put in a song he composed for Christmas: it had the chorus: ‘old story, new story, happening today.’
In Venezuela, the bishop tells me, ‘Make a Eucharist for these people.’ Being a good Anglican, I have to do this in the language of the people. The worship has to be true to the people and true to God. Living with them, I notice they speak mostly in the present tense whether for things past, and for things future. So the service is written in the present tense. Later, someone, a theologian and a sociologist, says, ‘How interesting! The language of God is in the present tense.’
Taking both of these together, then today’s Gospel becomes, no, is, our story, happening today. Mary’s good news of the coming birth of Jesus is our good news. If it is our good news, then we have to share it.
In Cordoba, a city in southern Spain, there is a wonderful building, the Mesquita, the mosque. It is from centuries back when Muslims ruled there to be a place for the worship and praise of God. Originally, it was simply a roof on pillars and rounded arches, but it had no walls. Of course, the climate this makes that possible. What this means is this: the worship and prayer is there for all to see, for all to join. Now, when the Christian kings regain the city, they build a cathedral right at the heart of the mosque. As they do so, they fill in all the outer open arches. From that moment on, the Christian worship will be behind walls and closed doors, its praise and thanks of God all locked away from the people. There is a sermon there, I thought. And I had a dream – I have a dream of our Eucharist being celebrated under and around that strange roof structure in what I remember as the market place in Kettering – a Eucharist open for all to see, to hear, and to join. Of course there are people who will say, ‘The weather in this country does not really make that possible.’ And on a day like this, with snow and ice on the ground, ‘You must be joking.’
Yes, even if we concede that point, it does not remove from us the necessity to share the good news, to make the place of praise and thanksgiving open, accessible, to the people, a place where people can move in and out with ease, a place of welcome and place of action. Even when we cannot break down the walls, we can come out from behind the walls to share the good news, Mary’s and ours: ‘There is a birth in the family.’ Whom have we told? Who are we going to tell? How about those who used to come, but do so no more? Or those whose children were baptised or confirmed here? Or those who were married here? All can be asked to share the joy.
Then we can make what goes on in this building such that it draws people into its welcome, its acceptance, its understanding care, and its good news. For there are many who have yet to hear the good news in such a way that enables them to see the salvation of our God, yes, in the form of a baby, the son of Mary, lying in a manger.
If we are unable to do all this, then what we do is simply reminiscing, retelling, for the umpteenth time, ‘the old story.’ We forget that our ‘old story’ is ‘new story,’ ‘happening today;’ that God is new every moment. And his word, made flesh, is startlingly relevant today.
Micah says that the one whose ‘born-ing’ is in Bethlehem, is to be the one of peace. Then let us gather together around him, hold hands together, and, in the silence, ‘will the nations to peace.’ the peace that is his peace, that he gives, yet not as the world gives. (From a poem by David Scott)
As we pray, we have to seek how we become part of the answer to our prayer. ‘Let there be peace on earth,’ we sing, ‘let it begin with me,’ with us, here in this church, and know that our actions speak louder than our words. They reveal, show forth, what the good news is that is joy for all the people.
The Revd John Tearnan, 20th December, 2009
