Rev Sue preached this sermon on the fourth Sunday of Advent 2024 (22 Dec), on which we remember Mary. Here it is for you again:
What’s in a name? Some of us have names that were chosen for their meaning, or because they were in the family. Sometimes there is an association, and other times the parents simply liked the name. Some people like their names and some hate them, and choose their own nickname instead. My father was named Albert George, but at one workplace they already had a Bert and a George, so they randomly called him Tony. Curiously, that stuck with his sister. My brother was called Anthony, but his speech was unclear as a child and Anthony was hard to pronounce, so my Mum reluctantly allowed him to shorten it to Tony. My Aunt then called them Big Tony and Little Tony. Inevitably Little Tony grew taller than Big Tony, something I found most amusing as a child.
But the approach In New Testament times was rather different. Names were chosen with care, and for their meaning and their associations. We heard from the gospel of Luke today. Each gospel has its own style and emphasis but at Christmas in particular they are woven together into one story – which is just what you want for a nativity play or carol service. But sometimes it’s interesting to take a closer look. Here’s a question. In which gospels is the mother of Jesus named as Mary? I only found out this week. In Mark and John, she isn’t named at all In Matthew she is always defined in terms of the men around her, to such an extent that Matthew tells us nothing about Gabriel coming to tell Mary about her pregnancy, but instead he recounts the story of Joseph hearing about it in a dream. The story is so familiar that it doesn’t shock us that Mary is only given a bit part in the story of the conception of her son.
Luke’s gospel has more stories about women than any other, and he takes Mary seriously, giving us an idea of what sort of a person she was. He describes the encounter with the Angel Gabriel, the trip to visit her relative Elisabeth, and records that wonderful song we know as the Magnificat, my soul shall magnify the Lord.
The Hebrew form of Mary is Miriam. Miriam was the sister of Moses, and one of the few women in the Old Testament to have a leadership role. She was crucial in God’s plan, saving the baby Moses by hiding him in the bulrushes, and later was recognized as a prophetess.
The great story in Israel’s history was the escape from slavery in Egypt. The Red Sea became dry and Moses led the Israelites across on foot, where God parted the waters to let them through. The Egyptians, following in horse drawn chariots became bogged down in the mud, and when the waters returned, drowned. The Israelites were safe. Miriam led the Israelites in song, playing the tambourine and dancing. Mary was named after a spirited woman.
Tradition tells us that Mary’s mother was called Anne, in Hebrew Hannah. In the Old Testament Hannah was a childless woman, which at that time was not only a private grief but a source of shame in a society where infertility was assumed to be a sign of the displeasure of God. Her husband unfortunately also had another wife, who did have several children, and who would taunt Hannah about her inability to conceive. Hannah poured out her troubles to God, and promised that if she had a son, she would dedicate him to God, and bring him to the temple to serve him. In due time a boy, Samuel, was born and she brought him to Jerusalem and left him with the priest Eli, to assist him in the temple. She prayed to God a Song of Thanksgiving which is recorded in the book of 1 Samuel.
Mary’s song has many parallels with Hannah’s, it’s virtually a reworking of it for a new context.
Firstly, both songs are exuberant. The women are rejoicing in motherhood, and in Mary’s case, there is an awareness of being chosen by God as the mother of a child so special that Mary herself would be remembered for generations to come. She doesn’t let it go to her head – she herself is but a lowly servant and she gives all the glory to God.
Following on from that Mary develops the idea that God brings down those who are rich, proud and powerful, and that he raises up the humble lowly people in their places. The rich people have had their turn at the good things in life, the poor have been fed with a feast. Mary knows her scriptures, and is celebrating those occasions, like the flight from Egypt, when there was a reversal of the social order, when God championed the oppressed. But she is recognising God continuing to act in the present, sending his chosen one to an ordinary family, not to be born in a palace. And, she knows that God will continue to act this way. She is a woman of faith and hope.
What sort of a woman was Mary? She is usually depicted in blue, serenely holding the baby Jesus. There’s a lot to be said for our picture where Mary is in red, a more assertive colour, and has the features of a strong woman, not a teenage girl. It’s a painting of someone you can imagine uttering warnings to the rich and words of encouragement for the downtrodden. She was humble, not in a self-effacing way, but because she knew that all that she was, and all that she had been given was a gift from God. She had strength, courage and determination.
Mary has been given a lot of different titles in the Catholic church, and both our closest Roman Catholic churches are named after her, Our Lady of Grace, and Our Lady of Dolours, (which means sorrows). But the one I like the most is Stella Maris, the star of the sea. It is the result of a felicitous transcription error. The Hebrew Miriam was thought to mean a drop of the sea, which in Latin becomes stilla maris, which, when a text was copied became stella maris. The title soon caught on, especially in Brittany, surrounded by the fierce Atlantic Ocean. The sea was always a dangerous place, where men were swept from boats and their bodies never seen again. Small wonder that the sea farers when they looked at the pole star, would think of Mary, star of the sea, and they would look to her, a mother figure, for protection and comfort.
The sea has always been unpredictable and dangerous. Today it’s once more a place of terror for refugees – men, women and children fleeing from war and persecution in tiny, overcrowded boats. We live in a world where we need people like Mary to remind us that God is on the side of the poor and vulnerable, and that we must keep strong in faith and hope and speak out on their behalf.
Mary’s song links the Old Testament themes of liberation and salvation with her joy at the coming of her child who would be the fulfilment of the hopes and dreams of the prophets. God acted to humble the proud and exalt the humble in the past. He does so now and will do so in the future. So, we sing Magnificat, Tell out my soul the glory of the Lord.
