Hopes and Fears

Sermon for Christmas Eve 2008 (Luke 2: 1-5)

A man in Newfoundland calls his son in Calgary two days before Christmas and says, "I hate to ruin your day, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing; forty-five years of misery is enough."
"Pop, what are you talking about?" the son screams.
"We can't stand the sight of each other any longer," the father says. "We're sick of each other, and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Vancouver and tell her."
Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone.
"No way they're getting divorced!" she shouts, "I'll take care of this."
She calls Newfoundland immediately and screams at her father, "You are not getting divorced. Don't do a single thing until I get there. I'm calling my brother back, and we'll both be there by tomorrow. Until then, don't do a thing, DO YOU HEAR ME?" and hangs up.
The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife. "Okay," he says, "they're coming for Christmas and paying their own way".


The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight’ – the well-known words of ‘O Little town of Bethlehem’. Yet for a young woman, barely a woman, as, like us, we wait for Jesus’ coming, these words might have applied to her.

She is young, barely more than a girl, a teenager and probably, barely even that, full of all the hopes and dreams of young people, fun, love, marriage, a happy home, children, family – and in the case of the people of Israel and other countries under occupation, freedom from the Romans. And like Jews of her day, praying for a Saviour to make that happen, and to bring about the vision of a better, more caring loving, world, where her children could grow up in safety. And where she could grow old with Joseph.
For she had love, chosen for her, perhaps, but she had love, in a man called Joseph, not the most exciting, a builder who could do some carpentry, but at least no worries about the house being maintained. And he was faithful to God, and so far, faithful to her, kind, considerate, and deep. He pondered things. She liked that.
And Mary had the natural hope and optimism of the young. Things must have looked fairly certain, if not extraordinary or special – what more could a girl in those days, and in that area, ask for?

And then an Archangel breaks into all of that, with amazing, disturbing, strange words. ‘Yes, the Messiah is coming, and you are the chosen one’ he said.
‘And how would Joseph feel about that?’ you can almost hear her say ‘What do you mean Joseph will not be involved?’. And then this unbelievable part, ‘the Holy Spirit will do this’.
More questions than answers. ‘What will Joseph say? Will he stay? Or… will I be on my own? In fact how will my neighbours respond? – especially the religious ones! Am I in danger?’

And the future? a child to bear, a child to love, a child to hold, a child to protect – and from what, or whom? If she had known what lay ahead, would she have been able to say ‘Yes’, but then that is true of so much of life, and yet when the time comes, God provides the strength to cope, even for what was to happen to this tiny baby only just in her womb?

Mary had hopes, and she had fears. It was trust in a loving God that allowed her to say ‘Yes’. It’s our trust that allows us to say ‘Yes’ when he calls us to follow this Messiah that we celebrate tonight, with all our hopes and fears.