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December 21, 2008 Fourth Sunday of Advent (B) by David J. Shea 2 Sam 7:1-5,8b-12,14a,16 X Ps 89:2-5,27,29 X Rom 16:25-27 X Lk 1:26-38 If she was going to be a girl, we wanted to call her Jennifer. And from the first moment we set eyes upon her, we knew that life would never be the same again. We had this vision that she’d frolic like a dancer wherever she went; she’d chase after raindrops during a summer shower trying to catch them in the palms of her hands, and she’d bring joy and love to our lives. She didn’t disappoint us. I remember that Christmas when she was five. For the first time ever, mom put her hair up in rollers, and by morning her blonde hair was so pretty—it was pulled back and her curls were tied with a red bow. Her mom made her a special dress; it was floor-length and was made from a Christmas patterned material. She wore a white pinafore over the dress and had black patten leather shoes. She looked like Shirley Temple and I couldn’t stop looking at her. When I’d travel on business and was gone for a few days, every time I’d walk in the house there’d be this great homecoming. She’d jump in my arms and make me feel like a million dollars. She grew up so fast. By the time she was in fifth grade, she wanted to go to the Roller Rink on Saturday mornings. It’s where all her friends hung out. She couldn’t rent roller skates. She had to have her own; the white ones with the big bright pom poms. The Roller Rink is where she celebrated her 11th birthday. The DJ announced that, “Today is Jennifer’s birthday,” and she skated around the floor in a cool pair of Jordache Jeans, the dark ones with the designs on the back pockets, as the overhead disco glitter ball traced circles of lights all around the rink. She loved to sing and one of her favorite groups was the Go-Go’s. She and her closest friend would play those big record albums, put on eye shadow, even though they weren’t allowed to wear makeup, wear a bunch of bangle bracelets, and pull their hair back in side-pony tails. Then they’d stand on the bed, use hair brushes for microphones, and pretend to be the band performing, “We got the beat!” Little girls are wonderful; pretty, flirtatious, innocent, and so hard to say “No” to—“Daddy, can I please?” “God borrows from many creatures to make a little girl—He uses the song of a bird, the squeal of a pig, the antics of a monkey, the spryness of a grasshopper, the curiosity of a cat, the slyness of a fox, and the softness of a kitten.” Was Mary ever like that? How much was she like Jennifer? When the angel came to her, she was still a young girl, until . . . until life slammed on the brakes and a young girl became a woman. One moment a young girl sits on the edge of her bed dreaming about her future and the next she asked to bear God’s son—“Mary, you are favored by God. You will conceive a child; he will be God’s child and your child. What do you say?” And for a few moments God waited for a young girl to respond. What could have possibly been going through her head? She must have had a hundred questions, but . . . she asked only one. She had to be afraid of what this would mean for her, her family, her future husband—it would turn her life upside down and it would be embarrassing and shameful. There would be fingers pointed at her and even her best friends would talk about her behind her back. “Could we just wait for awhile . . . please?” She wondered and pondered . . . but not for long. “If this is what God wants, I’ll do it. Yes.” And suddenly what was beyond all understanding, what was beyond all expectations, happens. God becomes a human baby. What everyone thought God might have done is not what God decided to do. A young girl is asked if she’d be willing to carry God in her body and in an incredible act of faith, Mary says, “Yes!” Even for holy people, faith in God is not easy. Is there anyone who doesn’t struggle in doubt, and even fear, when it comes to trying to figure out God’s will for us?—the risk of believing that God has some specific plan for us; that something special, maybe even something magnificent, can be made of our ordinary lives? It’s so hard to believe that we each have a role in God’s plan. “God, make your will known to me . . . please! But don’t make it too challenging; don’t make it too disruptive. I want to do your will but I want to go on with my life just the way it is.” So often we can’t bring ourselves to utter those words, “May your will be done.” We all claim to have faith, but are we willing to act on that faith? There’s a big difference. And for most of us that’s always been the problem. When the angel posed that fateful question, Mary agreed and . . . she trusted. It’s like standing at the threshold of a partially opened door. That’s our trust dilemma. God is inviting us to cross the threshold to the other side. But the problem is we can’t see what’s on the other side. Before we make a commitment, before we take a step, we want every question answered; all the ifs, ands, and buts sorted out in advance —we need a confirming email that we’re doing what God wants us to do, and we insist on MapQuest directions and want a GPS thrown in for good measure. And if we don’t get all of that, well, then we’re not going through—no way! A young girl taught us that we have to make room for God in our lives and trust, trust that He’ll take care of us on the other side with whatever awaits us; that He’ll be a part of whatever happens next. A young girl taught us that God acts in an imperfect world of pain and misunderstanding, in a messy present and an uncertain future. And just as He did so long ago, God is inviting us to bring His son into our world; He’s asking us to bring His holiness, His peace, His mercy, and His will into our world. And just as God waited for Mary to answer, He waits for us—minutes, hours, and even years. For some of us He’s waited a long time. Maybe this Christmas we’ll all be able to answer, “Yes!” Resources: Thanks to Fr. Jim Wallace for the inspiration in his homily, “Dream Along with God.” Wallace, James A., Robert P. Waznak, and Guerric DeBona. Lift Up Your Hearts, Homilies and Reflections for the “B” Cycle. New York: Paulist Press, 2006. Buetow, Harold A. All Things Made New, Homily Reflections for Sundays and Holy Days, Cycle B. Staten Island: Alba House, 1996. Taylor, Barbara Brown. Home By Another Way. Cambridge: Cowley Publications, 1999.
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