Advent 4C
December 22, 2024
Luke 1:39-55
INTRODUCTION
Finally, on this 4th Sunday of Advent, we get some texts that sound Christmasy. Micah will announce the importance of that little town of Bethlehem, which is the same town from which King David came. Hebrews will tell us why the coming of Jesus is important. But the really Christmasy text will be the Gospel, which tells the story of Mary’s visitation to Elizabeth and Mary’s song of praise. Let me situate you: Just before the part of the Gospel we’ll hear today is the Annunciation, when the angel Gabriel comes to Mary to tell her that she will be the mother of God. When Mary is, understandably, perplexed by this news, Gabriel adds that in fact, Mary’s aging cousin Elizabeth is also with child, and “it is the 6th month for she who was said to be barren, for nothing is impossible with God.” (You may remember Elizabeth, wife of Zechariah, from two weeks ago when we heard Zechariah’s song as our Psalm. So, Elizabeth is pregnant with John the Baptist.) Then the angel departs from Mary, and that’s where our Gospel reading will pick up, with Mary leaving “with haste” to go see the cousin the angel mentioned. Upon hearing Elizabeth’s greeting, Mary will respond by singing what is now known as the Magnificat, so named because of the first Latin word (“My soul magnifies the Lord”).
The Magnificat is beloved, but has also been seen through history as a dangerous text. Just notice how very revolutionary it is, describing a major reversal in the usual order. As one paraphrase of this song in our hymnal says, “[God] is turning the world around.” This is not mild stuff here! So, watch in our readings and hymns today, for phrases and imagery of the ways God is turning, changing your world, or the whole world. Let’s listen.
[READ]
Grace to you and peace from the one who is and who was and who is to come. Amen.
After worship today, we will hold our annual Christmas pageant. (It’s gonna be “the best” – really, please plan to stay for it!) Pageants like this are a beloved part of the Christmas season, because the mysterious and wonderful story of that first Christmas is one that captivates the imaginations of people of all ages. What is it that draws us in so? The angels? The animals? The kings and shepherds? The Son of God in a feeding trough, of all places?
Personally, I think it is the mystery of it all, and the unexpected bringing together of all those things, ordinary and divine. Though the story is so familiar to us, depicted on neighborhood lawns and greeting cards, and retold in countless children’s picture books, it remains an absolutely mysterious event in which the ordinary and extraordinary are held together in ways both comforting and challenging, both familiar and baffling. It is a mysterious paradox.
We know this about the night of Jesus’ birth. But I was struck by the same impression in the part of the story we hear today, about Mary’s response to the news of this divine conception, in which ordinary and miraculous come together. Let’s take a look, and as I tell this story, notice how the ordinary and the extraordinary are woven together.
…
Gabriel has just returned to heaven, and Mary is now standing alone once again in her humble home in Nazareth. Her whole body seems to be vibrating as phrases the angel said continue running through her head: “You will bear a son… He will reign over the house of Jacob forever… he will be called Son of God… the Holy Spirit will come upon you.” Her heart is pounding, and her mind is racing with questions. Will Joseph leave her? What will her parents say? What will the townspeople say – she is unwed, after all, and who will believe this outlandish story about an angel? Mary’s breathing speeds up and her skin begins to feel hot and prickly.
But then, another phrase floats into her consciousness: “Your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son…. For nothing will be impossible with God.” All at once, Mary knows: she must go to Elizabeth, to her relative. She must form this small community of women who know in their literal beings what it is to be touched by God. It will be a difficult and dangerous journey to get there – it is 70 miles from Nazareth, and young Mary, no more than 15 years old, will be taking it alone and on foot. It is a downright foolish idea, but she also knows it is right. With fierceness and conviction, and without overthinking it, Mary quickly leaves for the hill country.
…
Elizabeth is in her 6th month, and her aging body is feeling the ache of moving into the third trimester of her pregnancy. Grateful though she is for this miracle, she must admit that the miraculous nature of her status is not at the forefront of her mind, with her back and hips constantly sore. She would benefit from a full night’s sleep without having to get up to relieve herself every hour. She is also fearful of the ever-looming prospect of labor, especially as she is such an old woman. She knows this pregnancy is a blessing, and something very incredible indeed, and she is grateful… but she is also acutely aware that even God’s miracles don’t come easy.
Elizabeth is out doing her daily chores one day, the relentless sun causing beads of sweat to dampen her forehead. Zechariah is inside, having dozed off while studying Torah. Elizabeth sighs, and reaches up to wipe her brow and stretch her aching back, and… she squints at the horizon. Someone is approaching their home. With a gasp, she realizes it is her young cousin, Mary, looking grateful and exhausted as she approaches. Elizabeth laughs, astonished and delighted. At that moment, the Holy Spirit enters Elizabeth like a breath. Her hand moves to her belly – she feels baby John leap in her womb, already prophesying and pointing, Elizabeth somehow knows, toward the Messiah. The two women come together, embracing, both weary and jubilant, laughing in joy and relief. Elizabeth’s swollen belly bumps up against Mary’s still flat one, and Elizabeth says into Mary’s hair, “Blessed are you among women! Blessed is the fruit of your womb!” Soon, both women are weeping, shedding the tears they have kept bottled up but now feel safe to release. The power of this community overcomes them – here they can let down their guard, and be their authentic selves. Here, they can share together in joy and fear, they can celebrate, and listen, and cry, and simply be together. Here they experience the gift of incarnate community.
Elizabeth hurries Mary inside for a seat and a drink of water, and they begin to talk in the eager tones of two women who have missed each other and need to catch up, and have incredible news to share. Mary shares her fears along with her certainty of God’s plan, and Elizabeth bears witness, holds it all, and showers Mary with words of blessing. “Do you know what, my dear Mary?” she asks. She tenderly touches her belly again. “Even as you were arriving, my little John knew something marvelous was happening. I felt him leap for joy in my womb!” Mary laughs through her tears, wiping her nose. Elizabeth goes on, looking Mary deep in the eyes, and says, “Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.” Mary feels the impact of her cousin’s statement, absorbing its truth. There would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord. She remembers the angel’s words, the words that had become her mantra, carrying her the 70 miles to Elizabeth’s home, “Nothing is impossible with God.”
Suddenly, Mary doesn’t feel fear anymore. God would fulfill what he had spoken to her. God would fulfill all that he had promised throughout the ages, to Abraham and his descendants forever, she believed that. Before she knows what has come over her, Mary is singing – singing her own version of the song of Hannah, who had longed for a child, and of all the women of faith who have guided Mary all her life. Singing a song of revolution and trust and assurance in God. Taking the posture of a prophet, she sings of God’s promises as if they have already been fulfilled: “God has scattered the proud! He has brought down the powerful and lifted up the lowly! He has filled the hungry with good things!” Delighted, Elizabeth joins in, and the two women, this first Christian community to gather in celebration of Jesus Christ, sing a holy duet, praising God with defiance and faith.
…
I love imagining this story this way, in some ways so ordinary and in others, so extraordinary. I love imagining that Elizabeth and Mary both experienced the same pains and fears we still understand, those that go with pregnancy and with an uncertain future, and that in the midst of those pains and fears they still found ways to praise God, to proclaim their blessedness to each other and to the world for generations to come. I love that they come together in community – an inclination so utterly human that even a baby knows to pursue it. I love the mind-boggling pairing of things so familiar and completely unknowable, and somehow, it works!
The hymn we will sing in a moment captures this: “In a momentary meeting of eternity and time, Mary learned that she would carry both the mortal and divine.” That momentary meeting of eternity and time – that is the essence of the incarnation. That the ineffable, omniscient, omnipotent God of the universe would, for a time, choose to become contained in flesh and bones, grow inside a woman, and know what it is to have an earthly existence, and all its joys and pains, and to assure us of his presence with us in all of it.
I love that this story is so ordinary that I can picture it vividly, that it makes me think of times in my own life in which I gathered with a dear friend or relative and shared the joy of an unexpected miracle. And, I love that this story is so extraordinary that it continues to captivate listeners many generations later. In a couple days we will hear the rest of the story of God’s birth among us, but that won’t be the end. God will continue to be present with us in all the ordinary moments – doing chores, traveling, coming together in community, sharing joys and fears. God is Extraordinary Emmanuel, God-with-us, in all of our ordinary lives. And we are blessed for it!
Let us pray… Emmanuel, you desire to be with us in all things. Open our eyes to see you in all of our ordinary moments, so we will always know what it is to be blessed. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
| Pittman, Lauren Wright. Mary and Elizabeth, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=57086 [retrieved December 23, 2024]. Original source: Lauren Wright Pittman, http://www.lewpstudio.com/. |
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