A short homily offered at the Service of Lesson and Carols on Christmas Eve, December 24, 2023.

A few weeks ago, I joined some friends to walk through the Cloisters, the Medieval part of the Metropolitan Museum. A must see at the museum, especially in this season, is The Annunciation, by from the 14^th century workshop of Netherlands artist, Robert Campin.

You may know the piece, nicknamed the Merode Altarpiece. The Virgin Mary is quietly reading from her book of prayers and the Angel Gabriel is announcing the news that she will have a child. Joseph is quietly working in the woodshop to the right, and a couple (probably the donors) are kneeling on the left panel. It’s all very orderly, as though Gabriel’s message to Mary was the most normal thing in the world—just another Tuesday morning during prayers.   That’s one vision of the Annunciation.

I prefer another version, one that we discussed earlier this month in our Adult Education time, the Annunciation by Henry Ossawa Tanner at the Philadelphia Museum.  In this amazing painting from 1898, Tanner shows a young Mary sitting on the edge of her bed, awakened, wondering, and somewhat afraid. To the left is the Angel Gabriel, but appearing not as a figure but as a pilar of light—blinding, warming, radiating light.  Over to the right is the blue garment so often associated with Mary, but here, she has yet to put it on, as though she’s questioning. Will she say yes? Will she go through with this? Or will she let fear get the best of her?

Some have suggested that FEAR can be an acronym representing Forget Everything And Run.  Tanner’s Annunciation makes me wonder if Mary isn’t considering doing just that—running in the other direction, leaving the blue mantle for someone else to wear.

Forget everything and run. Fear can do that.

We’ve heard about fear in tonight’s readings. Fear in the garden of Eden, as Adam and Eve are afraid to see God after they’ve disobeyed.  The prophets promise of days to come when God will forget all sin, clear away all obstacles, and gather all God’s beloved close and tight.  There’s the obvious fear of Mary in front of Gabriel, and there’s surely some fear as Mary and Joseph go to Bethlehem for the census and prepare to give birth in a strange place.

But instead of forgetting everything and running in the other direction, Mary and Joseph move closer into God and closer to one another.

So often, I hear people say that the opposite of fear is faith, and I suppose it feels that way sometimes.  But for me, even at most my fearful, I’ve still had faith, and I want to resist falling into the trap of somehow thinking that if I just have enough faith, there will be no fear. 

Frederick Buechner captures the essence of fear in his little description of the Annunciation. He describes the Angel Gabriel as saying to Mary, “You mustn’t be afraid, Mary.” But then, Buecher imagines it, [As Gabriel said it] he only hoped she wouldn’t notice that beneath the great, golden wings he himself was trembling with fear to think that the whole future of creation hung now on the answer of a girl.” (Peculiar Treasures: A Biblical Who’s Who, p. 39.)

The opposite of fear is not faith.   It’s LOVE.  I’m grateful to a friend of mine, Father Stuart Hoke, for pointing this out.  He reminded me of the scripture in the First Letter of John: “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.” 1 John 4:18

And so when we’re afraid, I think we can do at least two things: 

We can do a loving act.
And we can make a loving prayer.

We can act in love—to help someone, to call someone, to send an email, to share a moment, or share resources.

And we can make a loving prayer—Picture someone in mind and pray that they would feel and know love, send a prayer of love to those people and places we see in the news that break our hearts. And send a loving prayer across the way in the subway, or in a store, or on the sidewalk.

Whether it’s fear of economic insecurity, or war, fear of losing those we love or of environmental changes, or even if it’s a vague, ambiguous fear we can’t even quite put into words, God invites us closer into Love—to receive love and to share love.

There is no fear in love, for perfect love casts out all fear.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.