16 December 2007

Luke 1:46-55

Growing up as I did in the Methodist and Presbyterian churches, I didn’t get much information about Mary. She showed up around this time of the year in the Christmas pageant and that was about all. She sat there, silently behind the manger, never a word crossing her lips.
In fact, throughout the New Testament, she doesn’t say much. In John she has some things to say. In Mark, though, where there is no nativity story, she’s barely mentioned, and she doesn’t utter a single word in Matthew. Paul refers to her as Jesus’ mother but never gives her name. But in Luke, ah in Luke, we have some remarkable words from Mary. Words that have gone done through millennia to provide prophetic hope to millions, by now billions, of believers. I’m talking about those words that were heard this morning known by most Christians as the Magnificat. The word “Magnificat” by the way is the Latin word that begins Mary’s song and has come to identify it.
Remember the sequence here now. First we have the angel Gabriel arriving to announce to Mary that she will carry God’s only child. Then we have the meeting between Mary and her relative Elizabeth who is carrying John the Baptist. Elizabeth’s words, if you remember from last week’s reading, upon seeing Mary were: “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leapt for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfilment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.” (NRSV)
Immediately, Mary goes into her song: her song of praise and thanksgiving to God. Now, Mary is not necessarily in what we would call “a good space” to be singing praises and thanksgiving. She’s dirt poor, even according to her own song, and here she is, unmarried and pregnant. She comes from nowhere…Nazareth, a Podunk if there ever was one. Nazareth isn’t mentioned in the Hebrew Bible at all; neither is it mentioned in the Jewish writings nor by the historian, Josephus. Mary is a nobody from nowheresville: a pregnant, unmarried nobody from nowheresville!
So why should such a person sing? What would possess this young woman, in one of the most frightening situations of her life, to come out in song? Well, she knows something that we’ve also been let in on: that God has favored her. God has lifted her up and given her a special status. Her song rings out as she’s standing there with her old cousin Elizabeth, the both of them with child and rejoicing in their state.
These words of Mary’s which come down to us thanks to the foresight of Luke, are indeed important. As Protestants, we’ve lost much of the feeling for Mary that our Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox brothers and sisters have. The Eastern Orthodox, in fact, have a special name for her: Theotokos which means “God-bearer.” But we have much to reclaim if we let Mary into our lives.
Luke reminds us, from the very start of his gospel, through Mary’s song, that God roots for the lesser-thans. First, God picked Mary as the bearer of God’s son. But secondly, the words of Mary’s song remind us of this fact. She sings that God “has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly,” among others.
Mary’s song goes from the personal to the political. She recognizes the extreme favor God has shown her at the beginning and moves to how, through this child whom she is carrying, the status quo will be upended. No more will the powerful reign and the rich control everything. The coming of this child marks the start of a new realm; an everlasting realm that raises up the lowly and sends the rich away hungry.
But wait, you might say, the powerful reign and the rich control everything now. What good is this 2,000-year old song if none of it happens? Why should we listen to Mary now?
Because we all need hope. Because we all need to believe that the status quo is upended in God’s commonwealth. Because we all need to be reminded that God does not operate the way we do.
Mary sings not only for herself but also for all the poor and lowly and meek of all the centuries, of all the places. Mary sings out a warning to rulers and potentates and rich people everywhere. Mary reminds all of us, rich and poor, mighty and lowly, powerful and powerless, that God selects whom God will for God’s work on this earth. And God’s selects in a way that humanity might not understand.
Is Mary’s song our song? Do we sing along with Mary these radical words of justice? Or do the words stick in our throats, maybe just a bit, as we choke out our faint echo of Mary’s soaring descant?
We want our Advent to be soft and easy; like the wrappings on the presents under the Christmas tree. But Mary doesn’t let us off. Mary’s acclamation of God and her praise to the one whose child she is bearing is not the easy carols we love to sing this time of year. Instead, we are dealing with tough issues that unsettle us. Advent is not necessarily all twinkly and bright. Advent can be just as challenging as Lent, that other time of preparation.
Mary sings out from a place of emptiness and, likely, fearfulness. She knows only one thing: that God has chosen her. And that is enough to make her sing; enough to make the song rise and soar from her lips to the heavens.
We are not in such places for the most part. Most of us are safe and secure and not considered among the lowliest of our society. That is why that song might cause us to stumble a bit as we try to sing along with Mary. We don’t know on which side of the dichotomy we fall as Mary sings. We’re not sure whether we’re rich or poor; powerful or powerless. But the important question is whether we are going to join in on God’s side; whether we’ll take up the cause of the poor and powerless, even if we aren’t necessarily counted among them.
Sing out, Mary, continue your song! Sing out across the miles and the centuries. Sing out for the poor and the lowly of every age and place. Sing out for God has chosen you for important work. Sing out your song of joy and hope. Sing out and lead us to the manger where you will bear a savior. Sing out and urge us to join in the song.