you, and so the child who will be born will be called holy, the Son of God, and – look you – Elizabeth, too, your kinswoman has also conceived in her old age; and this is now the sixth month for her who is called barren, because there is nothing which is impossible with God.’ Mary said, ‘I am the Lord’s servant. Whatever he says, I accept.’ And the angel went away from her.
MARY was betrothed to Joseph. Betrothal lasted for a year and was quite as binding as marriage. It could be dissolved only by divorce. Should the man to whom a girl was betrothed die, in the eyes of the law she was a widow. In the law there occurs the strange-sounding phrase, ‘a virgin who is a widow’.
In this passage we are face to face with one of the great controversial doctrines of the Christian faith – the virgin birth. The Church does not insist that we believe in this doctrine. Let us look at the reasons for and against believing in it, and then we may make our own decision.
There are two great reasons for accepting it.
(1) The literal meaning of this passage, and still more of Matthew 1:18–25, clearly is that Jesus was to be born of Mary without a human father.
(2) It is natural to argue that if Jesus was, as we believe, a very special person, he would have a special entry into the world.
Now let us look at the things which may make us wonder if the story of the virgin birth is to be taken as literally as all that.
(1) The genealogies of Jesus both in Luke and in Matthew (Luke 3:23–38; Matthew 1:1–17) trace the genealogy of Jesus through Joseph, which is strange if Joseph was not his real father.
(2) When Mary was looking for Jesus on the occasion that he lingered behind in the Temple, she said, ‘Your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety’ (Luke 2:48). The name father is definitely given by Mary to Joseph.
(3) Repeatedly Jesus is referred to as Joseph’s son (Matthew 13:55; John 6:42).
(4) The rest of the New Testament knows nothing of the virgin birth. True, in Galatians 4:4 Paul speaks of Jesus as ‘born of woman’. But this is the natural phrase for any human being (cf. Job 14:1, 15:14, 25:4).
But let us ask, ‘If we do not take the story of the virgin birth literally, how did it arise?’ The Jews had a saying that in the birth of every child there are three partners – the father, the mother and the Spirit of God. They believed that no child could ever be born without the Spirit. And it may well be that the New Testament stories of the birth of Jesus are lovely, poetical ways of saying that, even if he had a human father, the Holy Spirit of God was operative in his birth in a unique way.
In this matter we may make our own decision. It may be that we will desire to cling to the literal doctrine of the virgin birth; it may be that we will prefer to think of it as a beautiful way of stressing the presence of the Spirit of God in family life.
Mary’s submission is a very lovely thing. ‘Whatever God says, I accept.’ Mary had learned to forget the world’s commonest prayer – ‘Your will be changed’ – and to pray the world’s greatest prayer – ‘Your will be done.’
THE PARADOX OF BLESSEDNESS
Luke 1:39–45
In those days Mary arose and went eagerly to the hill country, to a city of Judah, and went into the house of Zacharias and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting the babe leaped in her womb and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit, and she lifted up her voice with a great cry and said, ‘Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb. Why has this been granted to me – that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For – look you – when the voice of your greeting came to my ears the babe in my womb leaped with exultation. Blessed is she who believed that the things spoken to her from the Lord would find their fulfilment.’
THIS is a kind of lyrical song on the blessedness of Mary. Nowhere can we better see the paradox of blessedness than in her life. To Mary was granted the blessedness of being the mother of the Son of God. Well might her heart be filled with a wondering, tremulous joy at so great a privilege. Yet that very blessedness was to be a sword to pierce her heart. It meant that some day she would see her son hanging on a cross.
To be chosen by God so often means at one and the same time a crown of joy and cross of sorrow. The piercing truth is that God does not choose a person for ease and comfort and selfish joy but for a task that will take all that head and heart and hand can bring to it. God chooses us in order to use us. When Joan of Arc knew that her time was short she prayed, ‘I shall only last a year; use me as you can.’ When that is realized, the sorrows and hardships that serving God may bring are not matters for lamentation; they are our glory, for all is suffered for God.
When Richard Cameron, the Covenanter, was caught by the dragoons they killed him. He had very beautiful hands and they cut them off and sent them to his father with a message asking if he recognized them. ‘They are my son’s,’ he said, ‘my own dear son’s. Good is the will of the Lord who can never wrong me or mine.’ The shadows of life were lit by the sense that they, too, were in the plan of God. A great Spanish saint prayed for his people, ‘May God deny you peace and give you glory.’ One great preacher said, ‘Jesus Christ came not to make life easy but to make men great.’
It is the paradox of blessedness that it confers on a person at one and the same time the greatest joy and the greatest task in all the world.
A WONDROUS HYMN
Luke 1:46–56
And Mary said, ‘My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit has exulted in God, my Saviour, because he looked graciously on the humble estate of his servant. For – look you – from now on all generations shall call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me and his name is holy. His mercy is from generation to generation to those who fear him. He demonstrates his power with his arm. He scatters the proud in the plans of their hearts. He casts down the mighty from their seats of power. He exalts the humble. He fills those who are hungry with good things and he sends away empty those who are rich. He has helped Israel, his son, in that he has remembered his mercy – as he said to our fathers that he would – to Abraham and to his descendants forever.’
HERE we have a passage which has become one of the great hymns of the Church – the Magnificat. It is steeped in the Old Testament; and is closely related to Hannah’s song of praise in 1 Samuel 2:1–10. It has been said that religion is the opiate of the people; but it has also been said that the Magnificat is the most revolutionary document in the world.
It speaks of three of the revolutions of God.
(1) He scatters the proud in the plans of their hearts. That is a moral revolution. Christianity is the death of pride. Why? Because if people set their lives beside that of Christ, it tears away the last vestiges of their pride.
Sometimes something happens to us which with a vivid, revealing light shames us. The American writer O. Henry has a short story about a boy who was brought up in a village. In school he used to sit beside a girl and they were fond of each other. He went to the city and fell into evil ways. He became a pickpocket and a petty thief. One day he snatched an old lady’s purse. It was clever work and he was pleased. And then he saw coming down the street the girl whom he used to know, still sweet with the radiance of innocence. Suddenly he saw himself for the cheap, vile thing he was. Burning with shame, he leaned
