Today's Sermon
Dec. 21st, 2008 10:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chrishansenhomeIt seems to have been a success--as I intended, it hit a chord with people and they'll never hear "I'm Just a Girl Who Cain't Say No" without thinking of this sermon again.
December 21, 2008 4th Sunday of Advent
Sermon delivered at St. John the Evangelist, 10 am.
Readings: II Samuel 7:1-5,8-11,16; Ps 89; Romans 16:25-27; Luike 1:26-38
In the name of God, the one, the Undivided Trinity. AMEN.
I’m certain that some of you remember the Southwark Diocesan Gilbert and Sullivan Society, of happy memory. I remember seeing my first live Gilbert and Sullivan in Amigo Hall next to St. George’s Cathedral, with some members of the cast and musicians drawn from this parish. I can’t remember which one it was, but I thought at the time, “They look like they’re having fun; perhaps I should enquire about joining.”
By the time I joined, it had changed names and was no longer doing Gilbert and Sullivan. The play for that year, 1997, was that old Rogers and Hammerstein musical Oklahoma!—don’t forget the exclamation point at the end.
The musical itself is nice, evoking a time in the US around the turn of the 20th century, when rural life was based around the small towns and farms of the Midwest and the joys as well as trials of life were shared by the entire community. The First and Second World Wars, the rise of the consumer society, the computer, the radio, and the television were all in the future. Entertainment consisted of barn dances, hayrides, skating on the pond when it got cold, and, if you were lucky, itinerant dramatic troups who would turn up in town, present a play or two, and then move on.
I had a very small part in the play, thank goodness, as I was terrible at acting and couldn’t memorise even the small number of lines I had to say. The rest of the play was hilarious in an unintended way: I particularly enjoy remembering how the director, simulating a gunshot, used a party popper in the wings. Fair enough, except that he was close enough to the stage for a shower of confetti to suddenly appear stage left to a very startled audience. We gave four performances, and after each one I would quip: “Well, that’s another quarter of my acting career over.” I made a bourbon sweet potato pie for the wrap up party—topical, as “sweet potato pie” is mentioned in the play. We drank too much and I swore, “Never again!” I’ve kept to that, for the most part.
One of the songs in Oklahoma! begins “I’m just a girl who can’t say no.” The character, Ado Annie, was complaining about all the suitors who would come up to her in town and ask for a date. She was so flattered that she never said “No!” even when she should have.
A joke that made the rounds in the Roman Catholic community in New York City when I lived there years ago was this—a radio announcer boomed: “And now, Mr. John Jones, the press secretary to the Archbishop of New York, will deliver the Roman Catholic Church’s position on a large number of moral issues which concern society today. Mr. Jones.” “NO!” Announcer: “Thank you, Mr. Jones.”
Religious attitudes toward morality and society in general often are caricatured as being one great big “no”. No to this, no to that, and to the other thing, of course, that’s a big no too.
But we need to think about this a slightly different way. Religion does ask us to say no to sin of all kinds. Our consciences, formed by our study and our prayer, are the arbiters of the things to which we ought to say “no”. But, all this has been a preamble to talking about saying “yes”.
Ado Annie in Oklahoma! always said “yes”. A bit more discretion would have been good for her. But, in our Gospel today, we also hear of another woman who “Cain’t say No”.
We think of the Blessed Virgin as a saintly woman, who bore our Lord into the world and thus assisted the Incarnation and the salvation of humanity. Some unorthodox sects in the early days of the Church were ready to elevate the Blessed Virgin into the Trinity and demote the Holy Spirit. Theology has come to a different conclusion that is more in tune with incarnational theology. The Mother of God could not be part of the Trinity, as the whole idea of incarnation was for Jesus to be born into the human race, not be the product of God alone.
What we often forget is that Mary had a choice. The Holy Spirit did not sneak up on her, effect the Incarnation, and then sneak away, only for her to discover quite a bit later that she was expecting. This would be possible, but messy. It would deny that human beings have free will, and if there is anything the Incarnation might teach us, it is that all humans have free will, even Jesus, and the decision to be born as a man and die on the cross was his and his alone, in concert with the will and wish of our Father in heaven.
So we see in the Gospel that the angel Gabriel arrives at Mary’s home and tells her all that will happen to her in the next year. Note that the angel tells her what will happen, but at the end, the choice is Mary’s. “Let it be done to me as you say.”
Mary is the girl who can’t say “no”. She doesn’t seem flustered by an angelic visit, or the news that the angel bore to her. The only question she has in response to the news that her future son will be called “Son of the Most High” and that he will rule over the house of Jacob forever is this: “How can this be since I do not know man?” Not, “How can this be that a son of a Jewish peasant woman will be the ‘Son of the Most High’?” One might remark, “Ever practical, our Mary…”
We too need to be people who can’t say “no”. God asks very few things of us: Love God, and love our neighbour as ourselves. Do we say “yes” to that request? Do we give up our seat on the bus or Tube to a pregnant woman, or an older man walking with a stick? We are saying “yes” to God, in a very small way.
Do we love God through regular prayer and worship to show that love? We are saying “yes” to God.
In Advent, we are not yet meant to say “yes”. Not just yet. The poinsettias have not yet come out; the white and gold vestments are still in their cases. We have bought and wrapped most of our presents (I hope) and have put them under the tree, with love, but haven’t said “yes” to the children who desperately want to unwrap them now. We (I hope) say “no” to the consumerism and the advancing of the Christmas season back through the year to September, when the first Christmas puddings and mince pies (Best before December 1) make their appearance. We say “Yes” to the anticipation of Christmas that makes it such a special time for us all.
We are waiting for the anniversary of the arrival of Jesus as a human being—we celebrate it on December 25th each year and have done so for as long as Christian records exist. The “Yes” said by Mary, who couldn’t say “No” to God, makes our “Yes” possible now. Say”Yes” to Jesus taking up residence not in Bethlehem, but in our hearts. I hope that you have all had a blessed Advent, and may you all have a Christmas where you again say “Yes” to the God who became human for us, along with the girl who cain’t say “No”, the Blessed Virgin. AMEN.
December 21, 2008 4th Sunday of Advent
Sermon delivered at St. John the Evangelist, 10 am.
Readings: II Samuel 7:1-5,8-11,16; Ps 89; Romans 16:25-27; Luike 1:26-38
In the name of God, the one, the Undivided Trinity. AMEN.
I’m certain that some of you remember the Southwark Diocesan Gilbert and Sullivan Society, of happy memory. I remember seeing my first live Gilbert and Sullivan in Amigo Hall next to St. George’s Cathedral, with some members of the cast and musicians drawn from this parish. I can’t remember which one it was, but I thought at the time, “They look like they’re having fun; perhaps I should enquire about joining.”
By the time I joined, it had changed names and was no longer doing Gilbert and Sullivan. The play for that year, 1997, was that old Rogers and Hammerstein musical Oklahoma!—don’t forget the exclamation point at the end.
The musical itself is nice, evoking a time in the US around the turn of the 20th century, when rural life was based around the small towns and farms of the Midwest and the joys as well as trials of life were shared by the entire community. The First and Second World Wars, the rise of the consumer society, the computer, the radio, and the television were all in the future. Entertainment consisted of barn dances, hayrides, skating on the pond when it got cold, and, if you were lucky, itinerant dramatic troups who would turn up in town, present a play or two, and then move on.
I had a very small part in the play, thank goodness, as I was terrible at acting and couldn’t memorise even the small number of lines I had to say. The rest of the play was hilarious in an unintended way: I particularly enjoy remembering how the director, simulating a gunshot, used a party popper in the wings. Fair enough, except that he was close enough to the stage for a shower of confetti to suddenly appear stage left to a very startled audience. We gave four performances, and after each one I would quip: “Well, that’s another quarter of my acting career over.” I made a bourbon sweet potato pie for the wrap up party—topical, as “sweet potato pie” is mentioned in the play. We drank too much and I swore, “Never again!” I’ve kept to that, for the most part.
One of the songs in Oklahoma! begins “I’m just a girl who can’t say no.” The character, Ado Annie, was complaining about all the suitors who would come up to her in town and ask for a date. She was so flattered that she never said “No!” even when she should have.
A joke that made the rounds in the Roman Catholic community in New York City when I lived there years ago was this—a radio announcer boomed: “And now, Mr. John Jones, the press secretary to the Archbishop of New York, will deliver the Roman Catholic Church’s position on a large number of moral issues which concern society today. Mr. Jones.” “NO!” Announcer: “Thank you, Mr. Jones.”
Religious attitudes toward morality and society in general often are caricatured as being one great big “no”. No to this, no to that, and to the other thing, of course, that’s a big no too.
But we need to think about this a slightly different way. Religion does ask us to say no to sin of all kinds. Our consciences, formed by our study and our prayer, are the arbiters of the things to which we ought to say “no”. But, all this has been a preamble to talking about saying “yes”.
Ado Annie in Oklahoma! always said “yes”. A bit more discretion would have been good for her. But, in our Gospel today, we also hear of another woman who “Cain’t say No”.
We think of the Blessed Virgin as a saintly woman, who bore our Lord into the world and thus assisted the Incarnation and the salvation of humanity. Some unorthodox sects in the early days of the Church were ready to elevate the Blessed Virgin into the Trinity and demote the Holy Spirit. Theology has come to a different conclusion that is more in tune with incarnational theology. The Mother of God could not be part of the Trinity, as the whole idea of incarnation was for Jesus to be born into the human race, not be the product of God alone.
What we often forget is that Mary had a choice. The Holy Spirit did not sneak up on her, effect the Incarnation, and then sneak away, only for her to discover quite a bit later that she was expecting. This would be possible, but messy. It would deny that human beings have free will, and if there is anything the Incarnation might teach us, it is that all humans have free will, even Jesus, and the decision to be born as a man and die on the cross was his and his alone, in concert with the will and wish of our Father in heaven.
So we see in the Gospel that the angel Gabriel arrives at Mary’s home and tells her all that will happen to her in the next year. Note that the angel tells her what will happen, but at the end, the choice is Mary’s. “Let it be done to me as you say.”
Mary is the girl who can’t say “no”. She doesn’t seem flustered by an angelic visit, or the news that the angel bore to her. The only question she has in response to the news that her future son will be called “Son of the Most High” and that he will rule over the house of Jacob forever is this: “How can this be since I do not know man?” Not, “How can this be that a son of a Jewish peasant woman will be the ‘Son of the Most High’?” One might remark, “Ever practical, our Mary…”
We too need to be people who can’t say “no”. God asks very few things of us: Love God, and love our neighbour as ourselves. Do we say “yes” to that request? Do we give up our seat on the bus or Tube to a pregnant woman, or an older man walking with a stick? We are saying “yes” to God, in a very small way.
Do we love God through regular prayer and worship to show that love? We are saying “yes” to God.
In Advent, we are not yet meant to say “yes”. Not just yet. The poinsettias have not yet come out; the white and gold vestments are still in their cases. We have bought and wrapped most of our presents (I hope) and have put them under the tree, with love, but haven’t said “yes” to the children who desperately want to unwrap them now. We (I hope) say “no” to the consumerism and the advancing of the Christmas season back through the year to September, when the first Christmas puddings and mince pies (Best before December 1) make their appearance. We say “Yes” to the anticipation of Christmas that makes it such a special time for us all.
We are waiting for the anniversary of the arrival of Jesus as a human being—we celebrate it on December 25th each year and have done so for as long as Christian records exist. The “Yes” said by Mary, who couldn’t say “No” to God, makes our “Yes” possible now. Say”Yes” to Jesus taking up residence not in Bethlehem, but in our hearts. I hope that you have all had a blessed Advent, and may you all have a Christmas where you again say “Yes” to the God who became human for us, along with the girl who cain’t say “No”, the Blessed Virgin. AMEN.
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no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 12:44 am (UTC)...which might be regarded as a mixed blessing. (To be honest, I wasn't going to read it, but this sentence lured me in.)
no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 09:21 am (UTC)One of the perpetual difficulties for the preacher is to try to get people to remember what s/he said after they leave church. Having some sort of hook to hang their memory on means that, long after the sermon is over.
One person at St. John's remembers a sermon I gave several years ago because I used a vignette involving Starbucks. Now, whenever people who were at St. John's yesterday hear Oklahoma! they'll think of this sermon.
I don't think anyone got an earworm from it, as I didn't burst into song...
no subject
Date: 2008-12-23 12:08 am (UTC)curse you!
no subject
Date: 2008-12-23 10:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-23 01:38 pm (UTC)