Prepare our
hearts, oh God, to receive your word. Silence every voice in us but your own,
so that we may hear your word. Amen.
The third Sunday in Advent is a rare moment when
Protestant churches pay a little attention to Mary, mother of God. Mary is the
first Christian – the first one to say “yes” to God’s crazy scheme to save the
world through an unmarried Jewish teenager from the sticks. She is present at
key points in Jesus’ ministry and even at his ascension and at Pentecost. She
is a friend of the poor, mother of believers, the one who taught Jesus to pray
and who teaches us.
The Canticle from the Gospel of Luke heard today is
all about Mary. It’s her song of joy that is part of her resounding “yes” to
God. Her beautiful song of praise is commonly called the Magnificat, from the
Latin for “magnify.” Mary magnifies the Lord, proclaiming God’s greatness and
rejoicing in God as Savior. She begins with God’s actions in her own life, for
in choosing her to be the mother of the Messiah, the Mighty One has indeed
“done great things for” her.
In Luke’s Gospel, we are told that Mary spent three
months early in her pregnancy with her relative Elizabeth, who was also
pregnant with her child, a child that would become John the Baptist. In the
lines leading up to Mary’s Song of Praise, Elizabeth had just welcomed and
honored her, saying, “blessed is she who believed.” Mary now recognizes with
awe that not only Elizabeth, but all generations will call her blessed. But how
blessed is she, really?
God has chosen her to be the mother of the Messiah,
but in practical terms what does that mean for her? She is not from a family
that can afford expensive food or clothing. She is a nobody, a peasant girl
from a small village. Her friends and neighbors see her as a disgrace because
she is unmarried and pregnant. Even Joseph was going to dump her. According to
Matthew 1:19, “Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to
expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly.” Being the
mother of the Messiah is scarcely an unmixed blessing. She will bear the
unspeakable grief of watching as her son is rejected, shamed, and crucified:
“This child is destined for the falling and rising of many in Israel … and a
sword will pierce your own soul too”.
Despite all this, Mary praises God for honoring her. Imagine
the kind of strength it takes to praise God for upheaving her life, a life
foretold to lead to a mother’s worst fear – outliving their child. Not to
mention the fact that her child’s death will be utterly gruesome. I say again,
despite all this, Mary praises God for honoring her. Mary sings about the God
who saves not just souls, but embodied people. The God she celebrates is not
content merely to point people toward heaven; God’s redemptive work begins here
on earth. God fills the hungry not only with hope, but with food. Rather than
being satisfied with comforting the lowly, Mary’s Lord lifts them up, granting
them dignity and honor, a seat at the table, and a voice in the conversation.
At the same time, God shows strength by disrupting the
world’s power structures, dethroning rulers, and humbling the mighty. Clearly
such saving acts are good news for the poor and lowly, but what does Mary’s
song mean for the wealthy and the powerful? Is there nothing but judgment for
them?
Though judgment and salvation may seem like opposites,
they go hand in hand. Those who stand in awe only of themselves and their own
power will be judged. Yet by bringing them down – by emptying and humbling them
– God is saving them. When they turn their gaze from themselves and their own
accomplishments, when their awe is directed to God – then there is mercy for
them, too. When God empties the rich of their excess and fills the hungry with
good things, the result is not social reversal as much as it is social
leveling. The rich and powerful are stripped of their arrogance and taught to
love their neighbors as they love themselves. Thus God provides for the poor
and honors the humiliated. When the arrogant are scattered and the powerful
brought down, then every person has access to enough of the world’s resources,
and no one has too much. Every person is treated with dignity and respect, and
no one uses power to harm.
Ultimately, Mary’s song, The Magnificat, is a cry for
justice. The rich, the proud, and the powerful who will all be brought down and
scattered away, empty, are those who make it impossible for the hungry to be
fed and the impoverished to be lifted up. James’s letter also reminds us to be
aware of the suffering that is caused by the world’s corrosive and corrupting
values. When James exhorts his readers to wait for the coming of the Lord, he
not only instructs them to wait with patience, he presupposes that they are
doing so in the midst of suffering. To read James in the season of Advent is to
take time to pause, reflect, and recognize where in our lives we are unprepared
to welcome Christ anew, and what values and choices have closed us off to
Christ’s presence in our midst. Reading James in the rhythm of the liturgical
year is a corrective that cuts through the distractions of the “holiday season”
and calls our attention back to Advent. James reminds us that this liturgical
season of preparation is also a season of repentance and penance that must take
seriously the suffering in our midst. Waiting patiently for the day of the Lord
is, as James’ entire letter suggests, a time for recognizing the values that
shape our lives and communities and recalibrating them, as need be, so that
they may be in accord with the wisdom that is from above.
James’ letter along with Mary’s song magnifies the
Savior who loves the whole world with a love that makes creation whole. God’s
saving judgment is for all of us, bringing us down from the pride that fills us
with ourselves until we can’t see either God or neighbor, bringing us up from
the shame that distorts our worldview and convinces us that no one, not even
God, could love us.
The mother of the Messiah has experienced God’s
blessing. Mary’s blessing, like ours, is a cross-shaped blessing, a blessing
that brings true freedom, the priceless gift of God’s salvation.
As is sung by Steve Bell, in his song called
“Magnificat”:
My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord
And my spirit exalts in God my Saviour
For He has looked with mercy on my lowliness
And my name will be forever exalted
For the mighty God has done great things for me
And His mercy will reach from age to age
And holy, holy, holy is His name
(Listen to the song HERE)
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