Advent IV: Mary's Role in Salvation

 

I begin this evening’s message with a brief quotation—not from the Gospels or from Saint Paul, but from two modern poets from Liverpool, John Lennon and Paul McCartney:

When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me,
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Let it be.
In these three simple English words, all the yearning, the hoping, and the long preparation that fills every page of the Old Testament comes to its fulfillment. In these words, restless hearts begin to find their rest. Through them, sorrow is turned toward rejoicing, crooked paths are made straight, and the long-promised Messiah—true God and true man—breaks into the world. From these words, the joy of Christmas is born out of the hope of Advent.

In many ways, the Virgin Mary stands as the final figure of the Old Testament. With her response to God, the hopes of Israel are gathered up and brought to completion. She stands in the long line of faithful women—Sarah and Hannah among them—through whom God’s promises are carried forward, often quietly, often improbably, yet always faithfully.

Mary, like her spouse Joseph, is a descendant of King David. David—deeply flawed and yet deeply faithful—stands as Israel’s archetypal king. To him, God promises a house that will endure forever, a kingdom that will not pass away. Our reading from Second Samuel echoes with this promise: that God will act, that God will establish what human strength alone cannot. That promise, spoken to David centuries before, now draws close to fulfillment.

The early Church Fathers saw this clearly. Justin Martyr, writing in the mid–second century, described Mary as a “second Eve.” Where the first Eve listened to the serpent and gave birth to disobedience and death, Mary listens to the angel and gives birth to faith and joy. As Justin writes, “The Virgin Mary conceived faith and joy… when she answered, ‘Let it be done to me according to your word.’” Through Mary’s son—whom Saint Paul calls the new Adam—God brings righteousness out of sin, light out of darkness, and life out of death.

Mary’s yes is not a passive acceptance but a courageous act of trust. If Sarah’s faithfulness gives birth to Isaac, the father of Israel, Mary’s faithfulness gives birth to Jesus, the head of the new Israel—the Body of Christ. If David’s faithfulness establishes God’s reign through the Temple built by Solomon, Mary’s faithfulness establishes God’s reign in the world through the flesh-and-blood presence of her Son. And if the Old Testament begins with creation and fall, it ends—fittingly—with Mary’s willingness to participate in God’s new creation, opening the way to the New Testament of Jesus Christ.

Advent is a season of waiting and expectation, and Mary stands at its center as a sign of hope fulfilled. We celebrate this Fourth Sunday of Advent near the darkest days of the year, when the nights are long and the cold settles deep. Darkness can feel heavy; the world can seem weary and divided. And yet, even now, the light is returning. The days are lengthening. What was promised is drawing near.

Mary’s response marks the great turning point—the hinge of salvation history. God’s light breaks into the darkness. Redemption begins, not with force or spectacle, but with consent, humility, and trust.

Fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum—Let it be done to me according to your word.
Through these words, Mary becomes the mother of Jesus, and rightly, the Mother of God. Through these words, heaven stoops toward earth, the proud are scattered, the lowly lifted up, and the true King enters his world not in power, but in vulnerability. Through these words, God’s people find their comfort, and creation itself begins to be restored.

We, too, live in a world that knows long nights and deep winters—seasons of uncertainty, fear, and longing. Yet Advent teaches us not to despair, but to wait in hope. To trust that God is at work even when we cannot yet see the full shape of what is coming.

And so, once more, we may borrow the words of those same poets:

And when the brokenhearted people
Living in the world agree,
There will be an answer—let it be.

In Mary’s yes, God’s answer is already on the way.