Pastor Bev Piro + December 1, 2024
First Sunday of Advent
Words for the Beginning: You Are A Blessing
In her sermon for the First Sunday of Advent, and the first Sunday of our worship series, Words for the Beginning, Pastor Bev invites reflection on Mary’s call to bear Christ. She illustrates how God pieces together the ordinary and imperfect parts of our lives to create something extraordinary. Through the Annunciation, Mary’s hesitant yet faithful response reminds us of our own calling to carry Christ into a weary world, chosen not because of our perfection, but despite our flaws. Drawing on art, scripture, and personal reflection, Pastor Bev encourages vulnerability and openness, affirming that God’s favor rests upon each of us, chosen by name to embody Christ’s love and light.
Sermon Transcript
From automatically generated captions, and lightly edited for readability by AI chatbots
The Advent season is filled with anticipation, and there is plenty to anticipate, isn’t there? Holiday parties, gift exchanges, Black Friday sales—or rather, it seems like Black Friday month sales. All those decisions have to be made; they’re coming at you all the time: travel that brings family to you or takes you to family, cookies, menus, decorations. Sometimes we get so caught up that we lose sight of what we truly anticipate—the coming of God in human form to be with us and among us.
The series that begins today uses the metaphor of a quilt to shape this Advent anticipation. A quilt is a beautiful thing made from scraps of fabric. When I started to make my very first quilt, I took pause when I realized that I was cutting up this beautiful fabric into little pieces only to sew it together again. But it was the anticipation of what would come from those little scraps that kept me going. What emerged was something meaningful and completely different from anything I could have imagined. From nothing—piles of scraps—emerged something remarkable.
The four Sundays of Advent help us weave together the pieces of our lives so that we form ourselves into a cradle ready to receive the Son of God. This first week, we focus on Mary, an ordinary girl chosen for an extraordinary life. Through Mary, we might crack open a window and see that we, too, are called to carry Jesus into a weary world. We are called not because of who we are, but often in spite of who we are—imperfect, unworthy, and yet still chosen and called by name. As Isaiah says, “You know the story.”
An angel appeared to Mary and greeted her: “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” This is our Gospel lesson today. Mary asked questions; she was confused and perplexed. She took time before she said, “Let it be to me according to your word.” Note that she didn’t jump at the opportunity to be the mother of the Son of the Most High God—it was a big ask.
Throughout the ages, and even today, countless words have been written and churches divided over how old Mary was and whether she was literally a virgin. These arguments, in my mind, are a way to avoid the real issue at hand: What does it mean when one responds to God’s invitation to bear Christ to the world?
If we look at the story of the Annunciation, we see that it’s really about Mary’s response to God’s invitation to be the one who bears Jesus to the world. Since the 3rd century, this central story has been depicted in art—first in frescoes in catacombs, then in convents, mosaics, icons, and beyond. Art helps us examine the nuances of a text through the artist’s interpretation of what is and isn’t said. For me, art is a spiritual exercise: meditating on the story through the skill and craft of others. What did the artist see? What do I see?
Today, I’d like to share with you several examples of Annunciation art, and I invite you to observe with me, with a sense of wonder, as the story is opened to us by these artists. Now, a big disclaimer: I have no training in art history and don’t really know what I’m talking about. I’m simply sharing my impressions and observations and inviting you to develop your own responses.
Before we begin, let me note some common elements in these pieces that you may or may not notice. I want to lift them up to you:
Mary is always depicted to the right of the angel.
Her long hair is down, a sign of an unmarried woman.
The angel sometimes has a staff or scroll, symbolizing a command from God.
Most often, Mary is clothed in blue, a color of innocence and calm.
Sometimes she is seated on a throne, a symbol of regality and her title as Queen of Heaven.
Pay close attention to Mary’s hands; they indicate her reserve or her welcome.
Sometimes Mary is shown reading—a sign of a higher estate, perhaps reading Isaiah 7:14: “Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call him Emmanuel.”
Sometimes she is shown with thread or spinning, reflecting a Byzantine tradition that she was chosen to weave the temple veil torn at the crucifixion.
There’s often a lily, a sign of purity.
Lastly, note the angel’s position in relation to Mary.
Now, let’s view these pieces together. We’ll spend a moment on each.
Here’s our first example: Fra Angelico’s fresco in the convent of San Marco in Florence. I had the privilege of seeing it firsthand. Notice how the angel approaches Mary and her response. The angel is somewhat kneeling before her. The angel is beautiful—the colors in her wings are vivid. She’s half-kneeling, her eyes downcast. Mary’s eyes aren’t really looking directly at the angel but off to the side.
This next piece is a detail from a three-panel triptych in Florence. I find this one so interesting. Look at the angel—how does the angel appear to you? The angel has words coming out of its mouth toward Mary. To me, the angel looks angry, almost commanding. Mary, in contrast, seems to shy away, as if hesitant to hear what the angel has to say. She’s holding a book, and there are lilies in the middle. The angel’s robes are flowing, as though the angel has just flown in. What might be Mary’s response to the angel?
Now, here’s a work by Leonardo da Vinci, painted while he was still a student. It’s a very formal Renaissance-style painting. The angel kneels before Mary, giving a sign of blessing. Mary is reading from a book, already depicted with a halo. Her gesture is as if to say, “You’re interrupting me. What’s going on here? I’m busy.” It’s a very different style compared to Leonardo’s Last Supper.
Here’s another example, this time a Dutch painting. This scene occurs in the interior of a building. The angel appears almost unnoticed; Mary is ignoring the angel, focused on reading. Another book is on the table. The angel seems to be trying to get her attention, but we’re left wondering: Is the angel successful?
Here's another detail from a larger piece. This larger piece, on the left-hand side, depicts the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden. Many of these have additional story pieces with them.
This one is outside, in a portico. Mary looks very receptive with her arms crossed, and the angel is standing before her, also with arms crossed. The angel doesn't appear to have just flown in—I'm not sure how the angel got there. Again, Mary is not looking at the angel; she's looking down.
Another interior depiction—this one is Danish. The artist was born in 1893, though we can't see when he died because my picture is in the way. This piece is much simpler than the others. Mary is sitting in a window well. She is spinning, holding a spool of yarn. The angel, dressed in white, kneels before her in a pleading sort of fashion. Mary's hands are open.
What is Mary saying?
This next piece is a Russian icon. The colors are very different—very bright. Mary is bowing reverently to the angel, who is addressing her. The angel is barefoot, but Mary is not. She is also holding yarn or spinning thread. This depiction feels contemporary, but it is actually from 1898.
In another interior scene, Mary looks startled awake. She is in her bed, and the angel appears not as a figure but as a beam of light reflected on her face. How is she receiving this visitation?
In another exterior portion of a larger painting, Mary looks startled. She has weaving materials by her. Again, the angel is presenting lies (or perhaps light?) to her. They are on different levels—Mary is kneeling while the angel is standing. The angel’s hair is flowing back, so perhaps she has just arrived.
This is a very contemporary piece by an artist who creates stylistic photos. I love the colors in this one and the way the artist uses color to express a point. Here, Mary is reading a book while the angel addresses her. Once again, Mary is not looking at the angel. The dove, as a sign of the Spirit, is also present.
Now, we turn to some global depictions, reminding us that Mary was not Anglo—we do not "own" her. It’s interesting to see how other cultures interpret this story.
This depiction is from Nigeria. The angel comes with a letter, has removed its shoes, and Mary still has hers on. We see the Holy Spirit Dove coming upon Mary.
The next piece is from India, a modern painting. Mary has a book, and above her is the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove. The angel in this depiction is formless.
From Southeast Asia, specifically Thailand, there’s a depiction in a traditional art style. The angel hovers above Mary, who is coyly receiving the message.
Moving on to a few modern interpretations—this one is traditional but modern, located in the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C. I’m not sure what the blue in the middle represents—clouds? Water? I haven’t been able to figure it out. What do you think it is?
Another depiction is from Poland. Both Mary and the angel are in ordinary clothes. The angel’s light reflects off Mary, creating an extraordinary moment in an otherwise common setting.
I love this next modern interpretation because of its blues. It is lovely. The angel is not depicted, but Mary holds a feather, symbolizing the angel’s presence.
In another modern piece, Mary looks more Jewish in appearance. The angel is vibrant and colorful, with many layers to the story. The angel appears to be whispering to Mary, with a hand on her shoulder, almost as if tapping her on the back.
Finally, we have Mary depicted with an iPod, distracted as a hand reaches out to touch her. How often are we, too, distracted when the Spirit tries to communicate with us? This depiction challenges us to take out our earbuds and focus, reminding us that there’s something important we need to hear.
And so, we return to Mary saying, “Let it be with me according to your word.”
The Greek Orthodox Church holds Mary in very high regard, calling her Theotokos, the God-bearer. Mary is a part of each of us who are called in baptism to be bearers of Christ to the world. In that way, we are Theotokoai—plural bearers of Christ—just like Mary.
To respond to the call to be a Christ-bearer, we must be vulnerable, open, and receptive. Mary herself asked, "How can this be?" Don’t we ask the same question? "Me? Really? Me? You want me to do what?" We prefer to make our own plans, thinking we know what will please God, instead of listening to what God asks of us.
The angel’s response to Mary was: “Be not afraid. Nothing will be impossible for God.” You, yes, you. God sees you as favored, even when you cannot see yourself that way. God chooses us to bear Christ. God dwells in us, in our homes, in our communities, and in the world. We are God-bearers—Theotokoai.
Isaiah reminds us that our calling is no accident. God promises to be our shelter and guide:
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name; you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
And through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.
When you walk through fire, you shall not be burned,
And the flames shall not consume you.
For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.”
If we are pieces of the grand quilt that represents Christ’s presence in the world, will all the blocks of that quilt be complete? Or will some be missing?
I’ve always wondered if Mary had the chance to say, “No, not me. Please, go visit the girl next door.” What if Mary had said no? What if we say no? What then?
Amen.
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