Luke 1:39-55
Grace to you and peace from the one
who was, who is, and who is to come. Amen.
The Magnificat, this beautiful song from Mary that we both recited
as our Psalm today and then heard as our Gospel reading, is one of the most
remarkable in all of scripture. It has been set to music by countless
composers. It is used in the liturgy of the church in every evening prayer
service. Its themes and imagery are significant for the whole of Luke’s Gospel.
But as beautiful as the words themselves, is the
context in which they are spoken. We’re all familiar with this story. Mary has
just been told by the angel Gabriel that she will conceive a child by means of
the Holy Spirit, that her child will be holy, indeed the very Son of God.
Though she is startled and understandably confused, she offers a faithful “Let
it be according to your will” (hence inspiring one of the greatest Beatles’
songs of all time, by the way!).
And then we get today’s Gospel reading. After hearing
this news, Mary takes off “with haste” to see her cousin Elizabeth. The angel
has told her that Elizabeth, too, has miraculously conceived a child in her old
age, and Mary undoubtedly believes that, in the midst of something so
unbelievable as what has just happened to her, Elizabeth, at least, will
understand.
The rest of the story is what we just heard – and what
we will hear tomorrow night, of course! As Mary arrives, the child in
Elizabeth’s womb leaps, Elizabeth is filled with the Holy Spirit, telling Mary
that she is blessed among women for believing that God’s salvation plan would
be fulfilled in her, and Mary sings these beautiful words that we call the Magnificat.
We are all pretty familiar with the Christmas story –
at least the part that we see in Christmas pageants and read in children’s
books. But this part of the story, these months leading up to Jesus’ birth are
so remarkable as well. Given recent events, what strikes me this year more than
ever before is God’s insistence throughout this story to come to us. As faith and religion has taken a different role in
modern culture than it has in the past, many people, even some of us perhaps,
have started to understand God as a God of convenience: someone that we go to
in times of need, someone to pray to when we are struggling for some reason or
another. Maybe we also even give God praise and thanks when good things happen.
It’s hard to forget the grinning Gabby Douglas in the Olympics this summer,
after winning the All-Around Gold in gymnastics, when she said, “I give God the
glory!” But in either of those situations, we’re really placing ourselves as
the acting agent, aren’t we? I need something, so I pray. I’m thankful for
something, so I give thanks. But this story – this whole story of God’s becoming human in the person of Jesus
– is a resounding chorus of God as the active agent: God coming to us, often against all odds.
This is an important message these days, in the midst
of so many questions about the action or apparent inaction, the presence or
apparent absence of God. All through December we hear outrage about the “War on
Christmas.” “Keep Christ in Christmas!” we say. Following last week’s shooting,
people had even more cause for concern. One politician came out saying that the
reason such evil could have happened in that elementary school was because God
had been systematically removed from public schools by way of disallowing
schools to pray. Those of us who fear Christianity’s demise in an increasingly
pluralistic country can point to all kinds of terrible consequences to
squeezing God out of our everyday lives, whether from schools or anywhere.
But as legitimate as those claims and concerns may
seem to be, they miss the whole point of the incarnation, of God coming to
earth as a human being. If the incarnation shows us anything, it is that no
matter what we do, God cannot be squeezed out. Because God can and will come to
us whenever God wants.
A careful look at this story will show us this again
and again. First of all, in the annunciation, when Gabriel tells Mary she will
conceive: Mary did nothing to call upon this honor. God came to her, to unlikely her, to an unwed teenager. And
Mary couldn’t have done anything about it if she tried! “You will conceive in your womb and bear a son,” the angel
says. Not, “We were thinking you might be the highly favored one. Thoughts
about that?” And certainly not, “You’ll conceive as long as you don’t mess
anything up.” Keep in mind it was by no means proper for her to be pregnant at
that time, under those circumstances. Anyone would have every reason to say so!
But God came to her, because God will go wherever He wants or needs to go to
fulfill God’s purpose.
Following this announcement, Luke tells us, Mary goes
“with haste” to visit her relative, Elizabeth. Again, this seems an unlikely
choice. She was a young girl, and pregnant at that, and this was a long
journey, probably about 70 miles. As she approaches, she calls out a greeting,
and the child in Elizabeth’s own womb – who, you may remember, is John the Baptist
– leaps, as if to say to Elizabeth, “Make no mistake! Mary is coming, and she
is bringing something extremely significant with her!” Baby John, the unborn
prophet of the Most High who will prepare the way for the Lord, is beginning
his job early, announcing to his mother that God is coming. And once again, God does come – to Elizabeth, by
unlikely way of her pregnant cousin. And in response, Luke tells us, Elizabeth
is filled with the Holy Spirit. And so the presence of God, Emmanuel, God with
us, remains with her.
God
comes to us. By unlikely means, at unlikely times, God comes to us. Stuck in a ditch on Atlantic Ave. on a Sunday morning, God comes to us. Despite the
odds being against it, God comes to us. God always comes. God cannot be kept
out. One author writes, “God can be wherever God
wants to be. God needs no formal invitation. We couldn’t ‘systematically
remove’ God if we tried. If the incarnation teaches us anything, it’s that
God can be found everywhere: in a cattle trough, on a throne, among the poor,
with the sick, on a donkey, in a fishing boat, with the junkie, with the
prostitute, with the hypocrite, with the forgotten, in places of power, in
places of oppression, in poverty, in wealth, where God’s name is known, where
it is unknown, with our friends, with our enemies, in our convictions, in our
doubts, in life, in death, at the table, on the cross, and in every
kindergarten classroom from Sandy Hook to Shanghai. God cannot be kept out.”
And because of that, because God cannot be kept out of our
lives, God is worthy of praise, and so with Mary, our souls “magnify the Lord”
and our “spirits rejoice.” You remember how quickly we want to make ourselves
the acting agent when it comes to God, only coming to God when we need
something? Not so with Mary. Notice, after those opening words, how every
statement she makes is about the magnificent work that God has done: God has
done great things, God has shown strength with his arm, God has scattered the
proud, God has brought down the powerful and lifted up the humble and lowly,
God has filled the hungry with good things, God has helped his servant Israel.
And most importantly, God has fulfilled His promises, and always will.
And one of the best promises of all is the one we will
celebrate tomorrow night: the promise to be Emmanuel, God with us, forever.
Will we ever doubt this promise? Probably. There is so much pain in the world
that it is hard not to wonder, “Where is God now?” But He is always there:
maybe not looking like we think God ought to look at that particular moment.
Maybe not acting the way we think God ought to act at that particular time.
But… God does have a history of coming to us in ways we wouldn’t expect.
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| This is one of the windows in the sanctuary at Taize. If you look carefully, you can see John in Elizabeth's womb bowing to Jesus in Mary's womb. |
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