The Jewish tradition knows a practice of interpretation called “Midrash.” In order to help to clarify a moral or a legal point from the Bible, the Rabbis would often offer short stories or homilies on a bit of scripture. These stories often consisted of an expansion or embellishment on the scripture in question. What I offer you this evening is a Midrash, an expansion or embellishment of Luke chapters 1 and 2.

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The angel Gabriel returned into the presence of the Lord, pleased with the work that he had accomplished. As instructed, he had found a family who would bear and raise the Baptizer. John was to be his name. He would be the one to prepare the people of Israel for the coming of the Messiah, the Son of God. That long awaited figure who would be the light of Israel’s redemption and liberation amidst the darkness of Roman colonial occupation.

But, Gabriel had had his work cut out for him. For, he needed to find not simply “suitable” candidates, but exemplary parents. These parents-to-be needed to have what it took to raise a very special child.

As most any parent will tell you, it is one of the great hopes as well as one of the deepest fears of parenthood to have a “special” child. This was not a job for just anyone.

Truth be told, Gabriel took the easy way.

As for the worthiness of the family. He opted to enlist a priest and his wife. The Gospel of Luke tells us that Elizabeth and Zechariah were “righteous before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord.” You see, Gabriel went to the place of recognized religious authority — to the temple — to find suitable candidates for this important task.

As for the willingness of the family, Gabriel opted for an elderly couple who had never been able to have children. Not only, he thought, would the birth of a child to an elderly couple have the air of the miraculous to it, but it would also offer a profound gift to Elizabeth and Zechariah. “Joy and gladness,” is what the Archangel promised them.

So, it is perhaps understandable why Gabriel became defensive with Zechariah when the priest questioned the biological possibility of having a child at such an old age. Angels, it seems, like visionaries of any stripe, do not like to have their well thought out plans questioned by those who don’t have a vision for the bigger picture. “Just keep quite for a while, Zechariah,” we can almost hear the angel say, “and let the experts manage this.”

As Gabriel returned to the presence of Lord, these things came to pass. Elizabeth did conceive, and indeed, came to understand her pregnancy as a profound gift and source of joy. In the sixth month of the pregnancy Gabriel was summoned to the divine throne and assigned a new task. He had done well in finding a home for the John the Baptizer, but what of the Messiah himself?

Gabriel trembled at the gravity of the task that was about to be set before him — to find a human dwelling for the Messiah? To find someone willing and capable of bearing the Son of God?

In an effort to reassure the arch-angel that it was not actually his task to fulfill, that Gabriel was a messenger and not the author of this plan, the Lord offered some very specific instructions. Gabriel was sent to a particular region — called the Galilee; to a particular town — called Nazareth; and to a particular woman — called Mary.

But this did not put Gabriel at ease:

It was one thing to go to the region of Judea and to the Jerusalem temple, where Gabriel had found Zechariah
— This, after all was the centre of urban life and the place of recognized religious authority.
But to Nazareth? in Galilee? That was the hill country, that was the backwoods.

For Gabriel it made good sense to approach a priest, with credentials and respectability.

But an unknown and unmarried peasant girl from the countryside? As the dwelling of the Son of God?

If a child born to an elderly couple would have had the air of the miraculous about it. A child born to an unwed Jewish peasant girl would have the air of scandal about it. And this is how the Messiah will make his entrance into the world?, Gabriel wondered

Gabriel’s incredulity didn’t seem to be tempered when God informed him that Mary was the cousin of Elizabeth.

But Gabriel didn’t get to become Arc-angel by questioning the wisdom of the Almighty.

And so he went to Galilee, to Nazareth, to Mary.

“Greetings, favoured one! The Lord is with you” are the words that Luke tells us Gabriel offered to Mary. But his greeting was met with a response that he was unaccustomed to — it was not fear on her face, or even surprise, but perplexity. She looked to the other side of the room for a moment, as though she was pondering both the strangeness and the grace of this encounter. She was somehow not taken in by the spectacle of it all. But seemed somehow able to grasp the truth of the moment.

Gabriel was quite taken aback by this response. But, not knowing what else to do, he proceeded as he normally did in these situations — he offered comfort. He said: “Do not be afraid, Mary,” even though he knew that somehow that was not the right thing to say. He knew that it was not fear that she was demonstrating, but in that moment he did not know what else to say.

Maybe the Lord was right, he thought to himself. Maybe there was something about her. Indeed, this poor teenaged girl proved to be much more receptive to her calling than the priest Zechariah had been to his. She responded with words of radical availability and openness — as well as tremendous depth.

It was not naive curiosity or sheer submissiveness that inspired Mary to respond as she did:
“Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”
No, she responded with what seemed to be an intuitive awareness of both the risky and the sublime nature of what she was about to undertake.

Gabriel returned to take his place in heaven, enamoured of the spirit and wisdom of this young girl. And word of Mary continued to spread among the heavenly host.

Legend has it that, shortly after Gabriel’s return to heaven, something unprecedented took place. For ever so brief a moment, the angels of heaven ceased to sing their unending hymn to the Lord. They say that the words of Mary’s magnificat had reached their ears and all at once, the angels stopped singing in order to listen and weep at the beauty of Mary’s song.

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It wasn’t until after Jesus was born to Mary that Gabriel realized what it was about this girl that so captivated him. And that allowed her to respond to God as she did.

This is how Luke puts it:

15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” 16 So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. 17 When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; 18 and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. 19 But Mary…Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.

Gabriel became suddenly aware that Mary’s response to the shepherds words was identical to her response to his words to her. Mary treasured and pondered these words. Once again, she was not distracted by the spectacle, she allowed the truth of the moment to touch her soul.

Mary, he realized, was a contemplative. This is what the Lord had seen in her all along. This young girl was able to embody grace so profoundly because she had learned to listen deeply and prayerfully, despite the scurry and anxiety of life.

She had learned a posture of openness. The receptivity of Mary’s body — that the Son of God was allowed to abide in her womb — was preceded by the receptivity of her soul.

And if we listen to the Christian mystical tradition, we will learn that such receptivity is not mere deference to power or thoughtlessness. It is a higher form of knowing, a knowing that surpass what the intellect is capable of. Mary treasured and pondered these things in her heart. In so doing she listened deeply and prayerfully. She was not distracted by the spectacle.

It is not a coincidence that this same mystical tradition understands the virgin mother to be a paradigm of contemplation for all who would follow Christ. We can not all give birth to the Messiah, but we can all make room in ourselves for the Son of God to dwell.

As I leave aside this Midrash that I have been spinning for you — hoping to have shed some new light on an old story — I invite you to treasure and ponder something in your hearts. Listen deeply and prayerfully to these words. Close your eyes if you like. Take this image to heart.

You are a creature with a mystery in your heart that is bigger than yourself. You are built like a tabernacle around a most sacred mystery. When God’s word desires to live in you, you do not need first of all to take deliberate action to open up your innermost self. It is already there, its very nature is readiness and receptivity, the will to surrender to what is greater, to acknowledge the deeper truth, to cease hostilities in the face of a more constant love. Certainly, in the sinner, this sanctuary is neglected and forgotten, like an overgrown tomb or an attic choked with rubbish, and it needs an effort — the effort of contemplative prayer — to clean it up and make it habitable for the divine Guest. But the room itself does not need to be built: it is already there and always has been at the very centre of yourself. (Hans Urs von Balthasar, _Prayer_)

On this day, let us make room for the Christ child.
Amen.