Luke 1:39-55
While the choir is
moving, let me invite you to open up your hymnals to page 131, because
that's going to be part of our scripture reading this morning.
The text that I am
using comes from the first chapter of Luke's gospel. I'm going to
read the first half of the text, and then I invite you to join me in the
second half of the text, because it's a song, and we're going to sing
part of it.
This is probably a
familiar story, in Luke's gospel, you may recall, Luke goes
back and forth between Mary and Elizabeth
-- between the birth of John the Baptist and the birth of Jesus.
And so the story opens with the announcement to Zechariah that his, well, what should we say. . . . "old"
wife (she's up there in the years), who is barren, is going to conceive
and bear a child. And you remember of course what happens to ol'
Zech in response to that (was stricken mute).
Then the word comes
to Mary, and Mary and Elizabeth get together. That's where we pick
up the story in verse 39:
In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, 40where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. 41When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leapt in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit 42and exclaimed with a loud cry, ‘Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. 43And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? 44For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leapt for joy. 45And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.’
46 And Mary said,
‘My soul magnifies the Lord,
47 and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
48for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
49for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
50His mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
51He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
52He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
53he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.
54He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
55according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants for ever.’
When Judy was
pregnant with our first child, we decided to surprise my folks by
sending them flowers with a card that said, “Congratulations, you are
about to become grandparents for the 5th time.” That’s all
it said. Didn’t sign it because we figured it was obvious. My older
brother and sister each had two kids and made it clear that they were
done populating the planet.
I also have two
younger sisters. Taerie was single and was still living at home at the
time and not a likely candidate. It’s not that she doesn’t like
children, but when one member of the family suggested that we build a
family cabin where all the siblings could retire, she replied: “If I
wanted continuous human company, I'd have given birth to some!”
The other sister and
the baby of the family, Sherri, had just been married for a couple of
years, whereas Judy and I had been married for nine years. I figured it
was our turn.
Mom comes home, sees
the flowers on the doorstep, opens the card and what does she do?
Rushes into the house, grabs the phone, and calls Sherri. She had given
up on us. Figured we were like Zechariah and Elizabeth, way past that
time. I didn’t think we were THAT old. Mature parents make better
parents I’ve always said. Fortunately, for my children’s sake, I am
married to one.
As is true for every
parent, the birth of your first child is the dawning of a new age. The
degree to which it changes your life and your lifestyle is simply
unfathomable. You know intellectually, hopefully, and you do all you
can to prepare yourself for it, buy the right equipment, read all the
baby books, fix up the room, you get all ready—but nothing really
prepares you for that moment.
Indeed there is a
sense in which you can never be fully prepared or ready for all the
changes coming once that new human being enters your life for which you
are fully responsible. The time comes and there she is, ready or not, a
brand new life full of all kinds of potential and possibilities placed
in your hands. Awesome. And scary.
Form that moment on,
everything changes: Your sleep habits, your finances, your
entertainment, your perspectives, your priorities, even your values.
And nothing you do can fully prepare you for all of that.
Here we are on the
last Sunday of Advent. Just four shopping days left. Christmas is
coming, ready or not. Mary and Joseph are on their way. The inns of
Bethlehem are all filling up. No place to go but the baby can’t wait.
As much as we try to
prepare, when the time comes, we can only be partially ready at best.
How can we possibly prepare for the coming of the Son of God into our
world? Certainly Mary & Joseph were not ready. They didn’t even have a
place to stay. Bethlehem wasn’t ready. The town’s residents and guest
were oblivious to what was happening in their midst.
As Luke tells the
story, the only ones in the entire world to take notice were a few
shepherds who had been tipped off by some angels. Even then I doubt
they had an inkling of how drastically the birth of this one baby would
impact human history. So radical, so life-changing, so new was the
birth of Jesus that we, in the western world, mark our time by it. And
yet it is often difficult to comprehend the outrageous nature of this
story we use as window dressing for our annual winter ritual of shop
till you dorp.
Luke goes to great
lengths to convey the radicality of God’s actions in the birth of
Jesus. There are first of all the main characters of the story:
Elizabeth, an old barren woman, and Mary, a young pregnant teenager, not
yet properly married.
One is a has been who
has been shamed by her inability to bear her husband any offspring, an
embarrassment only compounded by the fact that he is part of the
priestly establishment to whom such things are not supposed to happen.
The other, a small
town girl with no pedigree, a persona non gratis by virtue of her
scandalously premature pregnancy. The one thing that binds them
together is the condition in which neither is supposed to be. Taken
together they are powerful symbols of the past and future, and how God
can use both to do what no one thought possible.
The role of these
women, and women in general throughout Luke’s gospel, cannot be
overemphasized. In contrast to Matthew’s story, which centers around
men--the angel appears to Joseph, not Mary; the dialogue occurs between
King Herod and the magi, not Mary and Elizabeth--in Luke’s version,
Joseph is nothing more than a figurehead who stands silently in the
background as in a children’s Christmas pageant, looking over Mary’s
shoulder rather helplessly.
Worse, there is
Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist and husband of Elizabeth, who
doubts the word of angel Gabriel and is immediately struck dumb. Not
one of the more positive role models for men you will find in
scripture. Whereas young, innocent Mary accepts the word given to her
and then sings her praises to God. You cannot get a starker contrast.
The first to give
witness to God’s new action in the manger and at the tomb are in each
case, according to Luke, women, who, according to the laws of the time,
were not legally acceptable as witnesses in any court.
Sojourner Truth, the
19th century black evangelist for abolition and women’s
suffrage, summed up Luke’s perspective well when once she was questioned
by a white minister on her right to speak at a church assembly. She
challenged the preacher by asking in a most accusatory tone, “Where did
your Christ come from?” When he did not answer, she said it even
louder, “Where did your Christ come from?” Following a pause pregnant
with expectation, she then bellowed, “From God and a woman. Ain’t had a
man nothing to do with him.” That is the radical nature of Luke’s
story.
It is not enough for
Luke, however, to just tell the surprising story of these women. The
conversation he records between Mary and Elizabeth is not some casual
chit-chat of a bridge party or baby shower. This is history in the
making, and not any history, but the history of God’s redeeming
interaction with humanity. It is the history of God’s unending love and
the uncontainable joy it produces as evident by the leaping child of
Elizabeth’s womb. So marvelous, so incredible is this history it cannot
be simply told, but must be sung.
And so Elizabeth
signs, Mary sing, Zechariah finally sings when his mouth is opened and
then the angels themselves sing. It is a story that invites one to
sing, which is precisely why we have so much wonderful Christmas music,
unlike any other time, any other holiday, any other tradition.
Christmas is the song of love God sings to us and we cannot help but
sing along.
Lastly, there is the
message of Mary’s song itself, a virtual manifesto of the poor and
oppressed. Mary, a lowly handmaiden, embodies the message she proclaims
of the divine reversal that is to take place because of the birth of
this child. So sure is Mary that God will now fulfill the promises of
old that she sings of them as already accomplished deeds.
He has
shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has
brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
he has
filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the
rich away empty.
This is Mary’s witness to God’s activity in the world.
The overall message conveyed by Luke is that of a
radically New Age marked by the birth of Jesus. This New Age,
symbolized by the young virgin Mary, stands in direct contrast and
opposition to the existing age, symbolized by the old, though no longer
barren, Elizabeth. The primary distinction of this New Age will be the
divine reversal that lifts the lowly and dethrones the mighty, bringing
new life even out of the barren, existing age.
Thus the actions of Jesus in feeding the hungry,
preaching Good News to the poor, giving sight to the blind and calling
on the rich to surrender their wealth, were not actions of charity
performed along the way to his main mission, rather they are central to
the establishment of God’s reign, this New Age in Christ. They are the
reason Jesus was born, to reconcile all of humanity, all of creation, to
God, beginning precisely there, at the bottom of human society among
those the world discounts as of little value.
Such reconciliation begins with conversion, a complete
reversal, what we often call repentance, the turning from the ways of
the world to the ways of God. That this repentance or conversion is
more than an individual’s change of heart is made clear here in Mary’s
song. Through Christ, God seeks no less than a complete conversion of
all society. A conversion that will permeate all our relationships and
establishments, turning the world upside down.
Some will point to the world today in which there are
nearly two billion Christians and yet just as many wars, just as much
hunger, just as much or more suffering and poverty as 2000 years ago and
they will say that God’s New Age was still born. In looking at the
state of the world with the growing problems of climate change, the
continuing recession and high unemployment, the increasing threat of
terrorism, the divisions within the church, the worsening of the
situation in the Middle East, the wars in Iraq, Afghanistan, the Congo
and Sudan, it is easy to question if another Christmas will make any
difference.
And yet even in the midst of it all, there are signs of
hope, signs of conversion and divine reversal:
--the remembrance we had on Friday for the first
anniversary of the death of Major Thomas Egan on the street and the
resulting Egan Warming Center that successfully housed over 300 homeless
individuals in four churches for 9 nights when temperature where below
freezing.
--the enormous effort going into both health care reform
in this country and global climate change, though full of problems and
woefully inadequate, at least show some hope as the beginning of real
change
--the election of a black man as President and a lesbian
as mayor of Houston give witness to the increasing acceptance of
diversity as a positive value and the rejections of the old politics of
prejudice, fear and hatred
--a return to the tools of diplomacy to settle
international disputes rather than threats of violence. (If only we
could get Democrats and Republicans to do the same.)
--a likely new START treaty between the U.S. and Russia
that will result in a 25% reduction of nuclear weapons. (Here’s a
rather startling fact I just learned this week: the single largest
source for nuclear fuel in U.S. power plants comes from what?
Dismantled Russian bombs. I’m not a big fan of nuclear energy but
better that than nuclear bombs.)
Could these be signs that God’s New Age is not still
born, but rather is still being born? Can we affirm that even amidst
all the barrenness of the world, that all things are still possible with
God as Mary and Elizabeth learned? That the hungry really can be
filled, the lowly can be lifted up and peace can be found on earth among
all people?
Even in the greatest emptiness of our own lives, virgin
territories we dare not open to any intruder, is there a possibility
that we will give birth to Christ, allowing God to turn us around that
we might become heralds of God’s New Age? Can we, dare we, make Mary’s
song our song?
Christmas is God’s invitation to us, an invitation to
come to the manger, to witness the birth of the Holy Child as lowly
shepherds struck with awe by singing angels, as Joseph filled with the
excitement and innocent idealism of a new father, as Mary, overwhelmed
by being chosen to be the ones who bring God’s child of the New Age into
the World. We, like Mary, have been chosen.
This Christmas may we be the ones blessed because we
believed there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to us by the
Lord.
