Advent 4: What Are You Here For?

Samuel 7:1-11, 16
Psalm 89:1-4, 19-26
Romans 16:25-27
Luke 1:26-38

To a lesser or greater extent we have all grown up, I think, with the idea that God has a single, distinct plan for each of us – individualised, pre-packaged, pre-planned and, barring our absolute refusal, inevitable. We use words and phrases like “destiny”, “meant to be” and “God’s will” to express our confidence in its inevitability. All this because, perhaps, more pressing and more urgent than the quintessential philosophical question, “what is the meaning of life?” is the deeply personal question, “what is the the meaning of my life?”; in other words, “What am I here for?” This morning’s readings seem replete with the resonances of inevitable destiny: David’s sense of purpose to build a house for the Lord (cf. 2 Samuel 7:1-3), the prophetic utterance that David’s “house and… kingdom shall be made sure forever…[and his] throne…established forever” (2 Samuel 7:16), and, of course, the story of the Annunciation of Our Lord Jesus Christ to the Blessed Virgin Mary, the announcement of God’s plan for salvation and Mary’s seemingly pre-determined role in it. As a child, I was always taught that Mary was destined – indeed pre-destined – chosen by God to be the Mother of our Lord. Certainly, the title of the feast itself – the Annunciation – alludes to the angel’s telling Mary what was going to happen, and thus positioning Mary purely as recipient and object of the divine news and action. However, a closer reading of the narrative in Luke (the only Gospel in which it appears) clearly highlights Mary’s choice to cooperate. It highlights the reality and requirement of response as our Lady says, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38); and this response challenges that model of pre-determined destiny which still seems to prevail within the minds and lives of many people, even many Christians, and which can sometimes work to absolve us of our responsibility to choose. It is not simply God’s pre-determined plan which effects the incarnation as we know it, but also – and perhaps, equally – Mary’s response to the invitation, a response derived from her own self-understanding of who she desires to be in the world and in relationship to the divine.

What are you here for? That’s the question, but also the challenge. If you believe that there is one pre-planned and pre-determined destiny for you in this world, then it is just a matter of finding out what that is and directing all your attention towards it. But it also means that one wrong decision, one false move will alter it inexorably, and divert you eternally from that destiny. While the black-and-white nature of such a scenario may present a degree of straightforward certainty, at the same time, it leaves little place for creativity, not to mention for mistakes and wrong turnings. But what if there is no definitive purpose, apart from simply and ultimately sharing fully in the life of God? What if God has no predetermined plan for us, per se, but only makes to us various invitations? What if the process of our salvation – our wholeness and purpose (for lack of a better word) – is one marked most especially by cooperation with God, rather than a simple walk down a single path towards one prescribed end? What if we discover what we are here for along the way, as our lives are informed by the experiences we encounter and the decisions we make? What if, as Paul writes to the Philippians, you must “work our your own salvation with fear and trembling”? (Philippians 2:12) Granted, Paul does acknowledge that “God…is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for [God’s] good pleasure” (Philippians 2:13), but this hardly seems directive, only supportive. Again, what if the question, “What are you here for?” is less about finding one definitive answer, and instead about responding to an invitation, indeed responding to various invitations made throughout our lives; and knowing that with each response we are affecting and effecting who we are becoming, even determining what we are here for; that each response shapes us into a particular kind of person, moves us in a particular direction?

Instead, of asking “what am I here for” – a question about definitions and linear goals – why not ask how my decisions might be shaping and molding me right now? Instead of thinking of one particular path, end or destination, why not consider effect and direction? Why not explore “what am I becoming”, and whether it is consistent with what I say I believe? Does my response to a particular invitation or event draw me closer into an encounter with reality, or reinforce my own fantasies, my own desire for facile safety? Do I take the path of least resistance, because it will give me what I think I want or fulfill some pre-decided destiny I have come to accept, or do I allow myself to explore my deepest desires, what I need and what the world needs of me, even without completely understanding all the ramifications. Think once again of Our Lady who somehow decided that her underlying narrative would be one of openness to God. That openness brought her, undoubtedly, social opprobrium and isolation as an unwed mother; and while, the Church may now focus on her joy and blessedness, her decision also brought her, as Simeon prophesied at the Presentation, a sword which pierced her soul. (cf. Luke 2:35) None of it was her destiny, pre-determined, pre-ordained, but rather some of the consequences of being open to God. She did not ask “what I am here for?”, but rather “who do I want to be in the world, regardless of the consequences”.

I only recently – and to my great surprise – realized I had never seen the film The Bells of St Mary with Bing Crosby and Ingrid Bergman. So, I gave a myself a treat and watched it. In it Bergman plays the mother superior at a church school and Crosby the new parish priest. Not surprisingly, the two are at odds as to the school’s administration and direction, but don’t worry they come to appreciate each other in the end. In any case, at one point Fr O’Malley is encouraging a student who is having to write an essay on the five senses, and suggests she think outside the box in order to impress Sr Mary Benedict. He contemplates a sixth sense beyond the physical – the sense of being – and elucidates, “to be glad you’re alive; to be grateful because people are kind to you; to be able to see some of nature’s great wonders, the budding of the flowers in spring and the changing of the leaves in the autumn; to be able to appreciate beautiful music; to be conscious of the beauty of tasting, feeling and hearing only the things that are good for you; to be aware of why you’re here”. Interesting that last one, because it only comes at the end of a series of experiences which have nothing to do with an ultimate pre-determined destination, but rather about a person being formed and shaped through conscious awareness of the world around them, and by the decisions they make in encountering that world. Could it be that perhaps, we only – if ever – discover what we are here for or even why we are here, in the context of the choices we make, the directions in which we take ourselves, the responses we make to the invitations offered; that if there is any answer at all to what I am here for, it just might be only learned not in looking forward, but only in retrospect? Maybe, maybe.

“What are you here for?” Don’t worry about it, there are so many possibilities to make the question almost meaningless. Think rather of decisions, choices and responses guided by a particular direction. Explore and create an underlying narrative of who you want to be in the world; treat the world as friendly and trust. Trust that God is able to strengthen you as you grow more deeply into who you want to be. Trust that while there is no one, definitive answer to what you are specifically here top do, still “God…is [nonetheless] at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (Philippians 2:13) Trust that somehow that is enough, and remain open.