Here at St Mary's we celebrate, rightly I believe, three Feasts dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mother of our Lord. Two you can question, and one you cannot. Two of these beloved Feasts here are not universally observed or even accepted in other parishes. We have three in honor of our Lady: August 15, the biggie of course, the Assumption of the Virgin, December 8, the Conception of the Virgin, and today, her Nativity. In our Episcopal Church, and possibly and acceptably, there is so question about two of these Feasts—not everyone accepts the belief that the Virgin Mary was bodily taken directly up into Heaven, not suffering death, that August Feast of the Assumption. Not everyone believes that Mary was conceived without sin, that December Feast of the Immaculate Conception. But let's face it folks, she was born—no argument there. How she was born, how she died, different opinions. But she was born. On that we all agree. Even our low church friends believe she existed. If you do not accept this Feast of the Nativity today, you are gonna have real trouble with that other Nativity, the one on December 25! So a day to honor and celebrate the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of Jesus Christ our Lord, in a way and for a reason that is inarguable. She was born. Born. Not dropped down out of heaven, not fashioned from the dust of the earth or formed from a man's rib. She did not walk forth from the foam of the sea or spring out of Poseidon's forehead. She was born, like you and me. And here is her power and her challenge to us, her inspiration, her example, and her summons to the good and faithful life: Mary of Galilee, was born —into a family, into a faith, into a history. She was born—into the sorrow and sadness and heartache of life, born into its joys and satisfactions, born into its disappointments and defeats. Whatever we face or have known, or experienced, Mary shares. Mary shares. She knows, she understands. She has herself been through it all, and worse than most of us will face, done it all, seen it all, suffered it all, witnessed it all, went through it all, and still, by her own account considered herself blessed, and by our account, and God's, is considered full of grace. This young, naive, trusting, innocent young virgin suffered initial rejection by man she loved, to whom she was engaged. She was to be put away, cast aside as a sinner not worthy of any marriage. And all because she was faithful to God. And yet she considered herself blessed. She went through the birth of her first child, alone in a stable with a young man who doubtless knew little of how to help in such a time, surrounded by animals, which though now so beloved by us, were, in the reality of the moment not a safe or clean environment for a delivery. Then shepherds crowd in, awestruck, faith filled to be sure, but unwashed, fresh from months in the fields, and then bizarre sages from who knew where, pushing forward, one bring a gift of myrrh, for use in the child's funeral preparations. And she considers herself blessed by God. And then, so soon after all of this, she endures the sudden ravages of a desperate night-time flight to the border to save her tiny newborn son from certain murder by a crazed terrorist despot. And still she considered herself blessed. She saw this magnificent young man, her dear Son betrayed, abandoned by his friends, mocked, tormented, tortured by foreign soldiers, and then hideously executed, and she still considered herself blessed. The dead body of her precious Son, 33 years old, was laid in her arms at the foot of the Cross. And she, Mary, considered herself blessed by God, blessed above all. How often have I said, how do I say, "I have a right to be angry, I have a right to be upset, I have a right to be disappointed, I have a right to be hurt! Who wouldn't be hurt, how can I not be devastated and heart-broken by that!" How rarely in any of the times that bring forth those bitter words do I say, "I am blessed—despite all, through all, in all things, I am blessed." And how often does anyone say, should anyone say, of me: "You are even more blessed by so faithfully keeping God's Word", as Elizabeth said to Mary. And so I say, defensively, and possibly belligerently: "Well, but you must understand! I am only human! What do you expect?" Could it be that God expects Mary, that God expects me, and you, to be like Mary, who was after all, as we recall today, "only human". Born. Like us. Mary shows us how humans can be, how we can be, what we can accomplish and how we can pass through sorrow and hurt and how we can embrace and appreciate precious moments of joy and delight. With her, we too are committed to responding to God faithfully and readily, and she encourages us in that attempt and holy endeavor. But in her glorious heart of love, she also prays for us, pleads for us, when we fall so far short of that holiness, when we find ourselves unable to succeed in our best attempts, or even make much progress. She inspires us to be like her, and intercedes for us when we are not.