Three sisters lived in the forest. The oldest was named Bean Plant, the middle sister was named Marigold, and the youngest was called Lily. It was summer; the weather was beautiful and all who lived in the forest were happy and gay.
The two older sisters thought themselves to be rather important. Bean Plant attracted lots of attention through the lush and rich beans which she produced so abundantly. All the squirrels, rabbits, and other animals came and ate their meals at Bean Plant's house. Bean Plant was proud; she found importance in what she produced. Marigold, the middle sister, was also very popular. She produced nothing of value, but she attracted a lot of attention, nonetheless. The reason was that Marigold was radiantly beautiful. The gold, yellow, and orange blossoms which she produced brought her many suitors. They were all tall, dark, and handsome and had names of spruce, elm, and oak. Marigold lived in her radiant beauty as the summer days passed.
The youngest sister, Lily, did not attract a lot of attention. She produced no fruit; she was not radiantly beautiful. Lily was short, skinny, and just plain green. She also had a habit which her sisters thought was odd; she was constantly talking with the sun. Each day when the sun would come up in the eastern sky Lily would say, "Good morning" and the sun would answer, "Good morning, I hope you slept well. Have a nice day." Lily spoke with the sun at midday when the forest was warm from the sun's rays. When the sun would slip over the western horizon she also spoke to her friend saying, "Good night, thanks for the day. See you in the morning." Bean Plant and Marigold thought their sister was odd. "You can't speak with the sun," they insisted. But Lily would only answer, "Maybe yes, maybe no, but I will continue to talk with my friend the sun."
One day, Lily came to her two older sisters; she was in tears. "The sun is dying," she said, "the sun is dying." Now her sisters truly knew that Lily was crazy. How can the sun be dying? It comes up every day and goes down each night. The sun is strong and powerful, how can it be dying? "But, what of it?" the older sisters thought. "We really don't need the sun after all." Yet, Lily insisted that it was true, the sun had told her so. Bean Plant and Marigold had to agree about two things, however. The sun arose a little later and set a little earlier each day. Additionally, they noticed that the sun was not as high in the sky as it had been earlier. It just was not as warm these days in the forest. "But what of it?" they said. "We don't really need the sun."
As the warmth of the summer months turned into the cooler months of autumn, Lily continued to speak with her friend the sun. One sunny but cool day a strong driving wind rushed through the forest. The wind blew the beauty that once was Marigold all over the place. Her suitors no longer thought her attractive. They lost their interest in her, dropped their leaves, and decided to sleep for the rest of the winter. A couple of weeks later the first frost came to the forest. The fruit which Bean Plant produced began to shrivel up; it was no longer attractive to the animals of the forest. They, too, decided to sleep for the winter. One day the cold became so intense that Bean Plant was snapped off at the base; she was no more. But before the sun's strength went away totally, it bent down and kissed its friend Lily and said, "Thank you for talking with me. I love you very much." With that, winter came to the forest with all its strength.
After a few months, life once again began to appear in the forest. The snows melted and streams again began to run freely. Budding leaves appeared on the trees and the animals again began to forage for food, and there in the middle of the forest appeared one day the most beautiful snow white lily that one can ever imagine. As the sun arose in the eastern sky, Lily turned and opened her beautiful flower to her friend and said, "Thank you for talking with me. I love you, too."1
The story, "Lily," by Walter Wangerin, Jr., challenges us to look around and perceive the presence of God that is all around us. It also tells us that there is no need to impress God, rather God only asks that we be open in order to find his presence. Today's Gospel Reading and the scriptures in general illustrate this same important theme.
The Hebrew Scriptures provide important context to the idea of being open to God's presence with many examples of people who felt unqualified or simply did not want, at least initially, to recognize or follow God's call. Moses was a reluctant follower of Yahweh's call. Raised in the glory and splendor of Pharaoh's home, Moses did not know God until he encountered the Lord's presence in the burning bush. When God called Moses to be the Israelites' deliverer he initially balked, claiming his unworthiness. "Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?" (Exodus 3:11). God said he would be with Moses, but the latter was still not satisfied and tried to escape the call claiming this time his lack of ability: "O my Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither in the past not even now that you have spoken to your servant; but I am slow of speech and slow of tongue." Again the Lord responded, but Moses persisted, "O my Lord, please send someone else" (Exodus 4:10, 13). Eventually we know that Moses recognized God's presence and answered the Lord's call.
Many of the Hebrew prophets had difficulty recognizing the Lord's call. It took Samuel and Eli three times to realize that God was calling the youth to service. When the realization was made, however, the response was immediate, "Speak [Lord] your servant is listening" (1 Samuel 3:10). Isaiah was a reluctant prophet. He claimed, "I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips." But God purged the prophet's sin so that in the end he could proudly proclaim, "Here am I; send me!" (Isaiah 6:5b, 8b). Jeremiah, speaking to the people of Judah just prior to the infamous Babylonian exile, spoke of his unworthiness to answer God's call: "Ah, Lord God! Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy." But God, who had called Jeremiah from before his birth, told him not to be afraid, "Today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant" (Jeremiah 1:6, 10).
There were some prophets who were more open to God's call. Amos was a herdsman and a dresser of sycamores; he did not understand himself to be a prophet. But when God called him to prophesy, he went forward at the Lord's command. Hosea, who like Amos, proclaimed God's word to the rebellious people of the northern kingdom of Israel, was also open to God's presence. He was asked by God to take Gomer, a harlot, for his wife. Through their children and the proclamation of God's word, Hosea announced God's anger at the idolatry of the Hebrews, encouraging them to return to God before it was too late.
God's presence was recognized in other ways as well. We recall how Samuel was sent by God to Jessie to anoint the next king of Israel from among his sons. All involved in the process, including Samuel, surely believed that God would choose one of Jessie's elder sons, one who was mature and strong in stature and appearance. But God told Samuel to anoint David, described in the scriptures as a youth and ruddy in complexion, to be the next king. God does not judge by appearance but looks into the heart. The message is clear, God is present not only in the powerful, attractive, and those in authority. God's presence is in all, but, like Samuel, we might miss God if we are not careful.
Today's Gospel Reading, the story of the Annunciation, a passage familiar to all, presents a picture of one who was totally open to the presence and call of the Lord. We can only imagine the situation depicted by Saint Luke. Most probably Mary, a young Jewish maiden in her early teens had, like all her contemporaries, planned for her future. The scriptures tell us she was betrothed to Joseph, a good and righteous man. She must have believed that her future would be rather ordinary and even mundane. She and Joseph would marry, raise a family, and do their best to follow the Mosaic Law, as had their ancestors in the faith for many generations. Then, literally in one moment, her whole life changed, although she hardly understood what the angel's invitation and her acceptance would mean. In an instant, Mary was forced to make a life-changing decision. Her question to the angel about this miraculous invitation to be the mother of God was natural; we would have done the same and more. Yet, while she hardly could have understood what the angel was saying, Mary had sufficient faith to unhesitatingly respond, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word" (Luke 1:38). Unlike most of the prophets of earlier generations, Mary did not question her worthiness, the cost of her decision, or challenge the invitation by saying she possessed insufficient talent to fulfill her mission. On the contrary, her faith was so great that she went forward, regardless of the uncertainty, recognizing the presence of God and answering the Lord's call.
Mary's great fiat, her positive "Yes" to God's invitation, was costly to her. Christian tradition often speaks of Mary as a woman of sorrow, expressive of the seven specific ways in which her acceptance of God's call created pain and dislocation in her life. When Jesus was presented in the temple, Simeon predicted that because of Jesus a sword would pierce her heart. Next, she and Joseph were forced to flee to Egypt to escape the wrath of Herod who feared the newborn "King of the Jews" would threaten his power. Years later, Mary continued in sorrow when Jesus was lost for three days in Jerusalem only to be found conversing with the scholars in the temple. Mary's fiat brought four additional sorrows at the time of Jesus' passion and death: her meeting Jesus on the via dolorosa, the crucifixion, his deposition from the cross and burial. Mary had sufficient faith and vision to take the road less traveled, the more difficult road, but the only path that leads to life. She followed what her Son proclaimed in his Sermon on the Mount: "Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it" (Matthew 7:13-14).
Like Mary and the patriarchs and prophets of the past, we must be open to the presence of the Lord and God's call. We cannot fulfill our basic vocation to holiness without possessing a radical openness to God. We must be open to God when we feel inadequate. Created in the image and likeness of God we are, nonetheless, broken, incomplete sinners. As John Calvin said in varied ways, we are unworthy to stand before God. Yet, since this is the common condition for all, none of us is truly adequate and thus God accepts us for who we are. As the scriptures aptly and often indicate, God chooses those who perceive themselves unworthy to do the Lord's work. But remember what Saint Paul (1 Corinthians 1:27b) says, "God chose what was weak in the world to shame the strong."
We must answer God's call when we feel inadequate, namely when we do not possess the requisite skills for the task. The examples provided earlier of the Hebrew prophets demonstrate clearly that God provides what is necessary to complete the assigned task. We must, therefore, go forth in faith, confident that God's Spirit is active in our world. The Pentecost event was not for one day; God's Spirit must guide and direct all our actions and words.
We must also recognize the presence of God and answer the call when we don't have the time. We live in a terribly busy world; our responsibilities and the demands on our time always seem to grow greater. God's call can seem to be an interruption, a detour away from our daily and life goals. Yet, as Lily discovered and the scriptures state through numerous examples, it is through an openness to God and the consequent need to change, that our greatest opportunities and growth are found. We can't say, "Yes," to every person or need, but we must never discount God's call without serious reflection. We must persevere in answering the call. As Saint Paul advised his friend Timothy, "Proclaim the message; be persistent whether the time is favorable or unfavorable" (2 Timothy 4:2).
Yes, the presence of God is all around us, but are our senses open? How do we perceive the presence of God? This is an important question to ponder, especially as we await Jesus' birth. As we light the fourth candle of the Advent wreath, look at the calendar, and hear readings of God's call, we know that the Lord is near.
God is certainly present in events. The Lord is present in the birth of a child with all the wonder and beauty therein. God is present in the birth of nations, when tyranny falls and more democratic forms of government rise, as we have seen so dramatically demonstrated the last fifteen years in Eastern Europe, South Africa, Afghanistan, and Iraq. God is present in the birth of ideas which allow people to take greater command of a situation and determine better ways to solve difficult issues.
God is present in nature. God can be found in the birth of new lands created by volcanoes, earthquakes, and other natural phenomena. God is found in the terror of a hurricane-force wind and in the gentleness of a cool summer breeze. God is present in the dawn each morning and the dusk each evening.
We know that God is present in events and nature, but God is most profoundly present in people. God is present in us and those we encounter each day. Thus, when we smile, God smiles. When we say a cheery "Good morning," God says "Good morning." When we take the time to be present with another and be of assistance, it is God who gives assistance. God's closeness tells us that we must do our best to be an appropriate receptacle for the presence of God in our world. Let us realize that we need not be a great producer like Bean Plant or be attractive like Marigold to catch God's attention. No, all that is necessary is that we, like Lily, be open to God's presence and perceive God's action in the world. If we can, then certainly God will bend down, kiss us and on Christmas day we will blossom forth to produce an abundance for God and all God's people.
1. Paraphrased from "Lily," in Walter Wangerin, Jr., Ragman and Other Cries of Faith (San Francisco: Harper and Row Publishers, 1984), pp. 44-52.