top of page

St Andrew’s, Milborne

Sunday 23rd December 2018

Hebrews 10.5-10; Luke 1.39-55


“Who are you?” Mary asked sharply, putting down her duster and placing her hands on her hips.

“I’m the angel Gabriel,” the boy replied with a deadpan expression and in a flat voice.

“Well, what do you want?”

“Are you Mary?”


“I come with tidings of great joy.”


“I’ve got some good news.”

“What is it?”

“You’re having a baby.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Who says?”

“God, and he sent me to tell you.”

“Well, I don’t know nothing about this.”

“And it will be a boy and he will be great and be called – er, um . . .Ah the King of Kings. He will rule for ever and his reign will have no end.

“What if it’s a girl?”

“It won’t be.”

“You don’t know., It might be.”

“It won’t, ‘cos God knows about these things.”


“And you must call it Jesus.”

“I don’t like the name Jesus. Can I call him something else?”


“What about Gavin?”

“No,” the angel snapped. “You have to call it Jesus. Otherwise you don’t get it.”

“All right,” Mary agreed. “I don’t know what I’m going to tell Joseph.”

“Tell him it’s God’s.”

“OK, Mary said, smiling for the first time.

When the angel departed, Joseph entered. “Hello, Mary,” he said cheerfully.

“Oh, hello Joseph,” Mary replied.

“Have you had a good day?”

“Yes, pretty good, really,” she said.

“Have you anything to tell me?”

There was a slight pause before she replied: “I’m having a baby . . . oh, and it’s not yours.”





It probably really wasn’t like that at all – the scene I’ve just read comes from a junior school improvised nativity play, as recorded in Gervase Phinn’s book A Wayne in a Manger.[1]


But I wonder whether it was really quite as straightforward as the story Luke tells.


In the passage from Luke’s Gospel immediately before the one we heard today, we have the same scene – Gabriel speaking with Mary. Luke admits that Mary is perplexed by the angel’s greeting, and when she is told she is to have a child questions how that can be. But then immediately after the angel gives her more surprising news – that Elisabeth who has been barren is also expecting – Mary seems to immediately acquiesce, stop asking questions and accept everything.


I wonder if it was really quite that simple.



We’re told more than once by Luke that she ponders things – first the angel’s greeting and second after the visit of the shepherds.


She’s a young girl, betrothed to be married, who finds herself pregnant. Surely, however close to God she was, she didn’t accept that without any questioning or confusion or fear. Her place in her community would be compromised by what they think she’s done. Even today, someone who is engaged who then becomes pregnant without the help of her fiancé faces moral disapproval. It was much worse back then.


After the extraordinary visit from the angel, Mary rushes off to see Elisabeth. It doesn’t sound as if Elisabeth was expecting her. She couldn’t just call ahead to alert her in advance. No mobile phones back then – or even landlines. There’s so much detail missing.


Did she go because she needed to escape the stares and judgement of her own community?

Did she go because she felt the need for time spent with someone who would understand her predicament?


Did she travel alone? It would have been highly unusual for a woman at that time to do so.


In terms of the story of the incarnation, we have the important parts, but there are so many gaps too. Mary has become for some the idealised woman, and yet the picture we have of her in the Gospels tell us very little. As the mother of God incarnate, she is supremely important, and yet as so often in the work of God, those who are chosen are ordinary people.


We know that Mary was thoughtful and obedient, loving and worshipful. We know that she and Joseph kept the Jewish laws after Jesus was born, going to the temple for his circumcision and to Jerusalem later for Passover. We know they were relatively poor. But the Bible doesn’t actually tell us why God chose her, why Mary was the favoured one.


In the end all we can say is that it was through God’s grace, it was God’s choice and God knows why he chose her.


All through Scripture we see God choosing those to do his work who are weak and vulnerable, who make mistakes, who are not the people that we would choose if we had something special that needed doing. When someone advertises for a job that needs filling, they want the very best. If you look at some adverts for Vicars, they seem to want the angel Gabriel, if not Jesus himself to fulfil their requirements.


But God seems to do things differently. He chooses old women to have children, youngest brothers over older ones, deceivers like Jacob, murderers like Paul, adulterers like David, blunderers like Peter, inconsequential, unimportant people like Mary.


Wow! What great things they have done for God!



Mary breaks into song when the two women meet – it’s a song that Christians have echoed through the ages, and as you will be aware it is an important part of the liturgy of the Church of England, the canticle that is said and sung at Evening Prayer and Evensong. It’s recognising that the people of God are not the rich and famous, the powerful and wealthy but the meek and humble and poor.


In God’s kingdom, the proud and haughty will be brought down, the powerful and the lowly will change places, the rich lose their wealth and the poor given their fill.


Of course, in God’s kingdom all are equal and all are loved. Things will be balanced out. It’s harder for the rich and powerful to recognise their need for God, while the poor and humble know it only too well.


God noticed Mary, God notices the small and lowly. That’s partly why Jesus was born as an outsider away from his home community to a poor couple, so we can all recognise the power of God’s kingdom.

If he’d been born in a palace, how many of us would have felt he wasn’t for us?


As I was preparing this sermon, I came across this modern-day version of the Magnificat, written by one of the curates in this diocese[2]. It’s a Mary’s Song for today. How do you fit in?


My soul magnifies God

And my spirit leaps within me

Dances for joy

For God has seen me

Even in my smallness

I am seen

I am noticed

I am known

And I will be known for generations to   


As someone blessed by God.


She has shown me mercy

Mercy that goes on and on

Beyond the horizon

Further than the eye can see

Mercy handed down

From family to family.

God has scattered the proud

In their conceit

Unseated them from their haughty   


Thrown them off and set them down

She has levelled the playing field;

Those sat at the top of the tree

Who wield power

Tower over

Will be toppled

Brought back to reality

See who really rules.


And those who lose

Who are looked down upon

Trampled on

Who trek across savage seas in search

   of safety

Who flee violence at home

Whose children are separated from them

   and numbered

On borders

By strangers

Those who fall victim to political wars

Innocents sacrificed on the altar of

   human greed

Weapons funded by governments miles  

   away who care not to see

The body count

Those who are counted out

Who are passed by

Looked over

Will be lifted up


No more sifting sand

Gifted stable ground


No longer lost.


Those who cannot settle the cost

Who wonder where the next meal will  

   come from

Whose sleep is disturbed by rumbling


Will be fed the very best.

Those who stand in the food bank queue

Who wonder how they’ll feed their

   children in the school holidays

Will feast

No longer full of worry

But belly-full of warm life giving food

And warm life-giving hope.

Hope for a future without want.


Those who are currently stuffed full of


Full to the brim

Will slim down

Sent away empty

For God has redressed the balance

And justice is flowing


In the places that have been cracked and



This is the God who has called me

Chosen me

Set me apart

And my heart is full.


[1] Gervase Phinn: A Wayne In A Manger (Penguin, 2005) p. 46ff

[2] Ruth Wells

bottom of page