When my kids were little, their favorite question was “Why?”
Why is the sky blue? Why doesn’t the moon fall down? Why can’t we ride our dog
Maxie like a pony? Why can’t I go to school with you?
Every Sunday, I facilitate a lectionary Bible study at my
parish. It’s discussion- based, which is how I have always preferred to teach,
but the rub of this method always is the necessity to be prepared for anything.
And that includes, always, some really great questions to which I will never
claim that I have the answers.
A couple of Sundays ago was no exception. I had agreed to
teach a month-long Advent series for the entire adult education program, rather
than just our regular small group, and we were on the fourth and final Sunday.
Our texts included the Annunciation narrative from Luke. The Archangel Gabriel
appears to Mary, and opens up to her the possibility that she will bear a
child, even though she is a “virgin.” And there are some who doubt several
aspects of this story.
And that’s okay. In fact, that’s probably why many of us are
Episcopalians. We are not afraid to live into the questions. But, I wonder, can
we also be unafraid to live into the possibilities?
I wonder if we completely misunderstand the stories we hear
during the seasons of Advent and Christmas if we set our focus on them as
telling us anything about the “how” of God. A far more interesting question to me
is the one my kids favored so much growing up: “Why?” Why was the Son of God
sent into the world, born as a tiny baby in a dusty corner of a gigantic empire? Why do the stories insist that the Son of God
was born into an “irregular” family to a teenaged mother without connection or
wealth or privilege? Why listen to these stories today?
One of the greatest mysteries in scripture seems to be that
the God of Israel delights in those who would be overlooked: the younger child rather
than the elder, the shepherd rather than the warrior, the repentant sinner
rather than the perfect, the Samaritan who shouldn’t be expected to be
compassionate rather than the leaders who should be compassionate but aren’t. Always,
always, God encourages us to expand our notions of what is possible, to burst
free of expectations based on what is probable, to show us instead the wonders
of what can be.
Likewise, in this season of Advent and Christmas, the angle
that captures my attention is not who Jesus WAS as much as who Jesus IS for us
today. When we try to box Jesus into our scientifically perceived notions of
natural law, we lose our grasp of Jesus altogether, much as you can’t hold
water in your fist. Unto us is born a child who will be a savior for us right
now as well as throughout the past.
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