“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.” Then the angel left her. (Luke 1:38)

My son has been applying for a new job and is currently going through job interviews. These days most of them happen online rather than face to face but he’s pretty good at that sort of stuff so I’m hopeful he’ll be successful. He has skills and experience in the jobs he’s applying for and that’s the kind of thing employers look for in interviews when they’re choosing someone for a job, right? “What are you bringing to table?”, “How do you see yourself doing the job?” Maybe I’m wrong. I haven’t done many interviews over the years.

But I find myself wondering about Mary. Why her? Why does God choose Mary to be the mother of the Messiah? Sure, she was betrothed to Joseph who was a descendant of David and so the prophecies regarding the Messiah could work out through him, but by the time of Jesus we are, even if we regard the lineage of Jesus Luke sets out in his Gospel as accurate - and it almost certainly isn’t - we’re twenty generations on from David. By this point pretty much everyone in Israel is a descendant of David.

So, why Joseph? And if, why Joseph then why Mary? The Annunciation is like no job interview I’ve ever been to. What does she bring to the table? What skills does she have? None. What experience does she have? None. She’s a teenage girl. A girl no older than the ones I used to teach in third year at school. Who is she that such a weight, such a responsibility, should be placed on her young shoulders? What is so special about her?

Nothing. And maybe that’s the point. There is nothing special about Mary, any more than there will be anything special about the fishermen her son will choose as his followers; any more than there was anything special about the youngest son of Jesse - David - that God chose as king of Israel; any more than there was anything special about the shepherd Amos when God chose him to be, perhaps, the first of his prophets.

What is so special about Mary? Nothing. That’s the point. The child she will bear, the Son of God, will not be born anywhere special, to any special family, or have any special childhood. He will be born in the least promising of circumstances, among the animals and laid in a manger. He will not be born to wealth or privilege but as the son of a carpenter. He will be known as a king in centuries to come, perhaps, but he will be best known - best loved, perhaps, - as a good shepherd.

What is so special about Mary? Nothing. Except, perhaps, this. She says, “Yes”. “I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be fulfilled.” That takes enormous courage for a girl of her age and in her time and culture. This is not going to be an easy gig. How will Joseph react to her pregnancy? How will her family, her community react? What are the chances of them believing her? I mean, would you?

That “Yes”, that “I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be fulfilled”, that choice by someone who seemed so unqualified, unskilled, so inexperienced, marks a pivotal point in the history of the world. In the words she says in the second half of the passage from Luke we read this morning - a section we call the Magnificat -  she seems to recognise this. She recognises that she is humble. She speaks of God scattering the proud, of bringing down the rulers from their thrones, of feeding the hungry. She will do the work of God by bringing into the world the Christ in whom all this will come to pass.

Because in Christ God will walk not among the proud and the haughty, but among the humble and the poor. In Christ God will not among the rulers, the powerful and the potentates, but about the weak and the downtrodden. In Christ God will stand beside the hungry and the despised; among the forgotten and the outcasts. In Christ God will show that his love is for all his children. That his forgiveness is for all his children - however far they have wandered from him. That his compassion is for all his children, whatever the cause of their sorrow or grief.

So as, this Sunday, we take another step toward Bethlehem, toward an encounter with the newborn Christ, the question is this. Can we echo Mary and say, “I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be fulfilled.”? Are we ready to bring Christ into the world in us? Are we ready to let God’s Holy Spirit fill us to do Christ’s work in the world? That may sound like a tough gig. Maybe it is. Maybe we wonder what the world thinks of us when we profess our faith. Maybe we wonder what difference we could make. I mean, who are we? No one special, right? Just like Mary. And maybe that’s the point.

 We are called, like Mary, to bring Christ into the world we live in. We are called to do the work of Christ in the world: showing that world what the love of God is all about. Showing that the love of God is for all his children - including those who seem so different from us, all those who come to our shores in desperation, all those the world treats as less than human because they’ve messed up in their lives, as if we haven’t some times.

We are called to do the work of Christ in the world; showing the world what the love of God  is all about. Showing that the love of God is for all his children; be they rich or strong, weak or powerful, old or young, male or female, gay or straight, whatever. 

We are called to do the work of Christ in the world; showing the world what the love of God is all about. That it heals. That it heals hatreds, need and brokenness; a healing we can offer through forgiveness, support and compassion. I say “the world”. Of course I mean our little bit of it. The bit where we can make a difference. The bit where God asks us, like Mary, to bring Christ into the world in the words we say, the things we do, the values we live by. The bit where God challenges us to answer, “I am the Lord’s servant.” Or, more simply, “yes”.

Father may we, like Mary, be your servants. May we let your Son shine in the world through us as surely as he shone when he walked its streets and byways, teaching word of your love for your children

Preached at St Mungo, Kettleholm