I know many folks are finished with Christmas already, but not me. I still have a birthday to celebrate, I still play carols on my piano, and I'm not taking my lights down until they stop working. I don't like to give up so easily on the Spirit of Giving. It's gotta last longer than just a few days, after all!
The Gifts of this Christmas this year, for me, have been delivered in profound and unexpected ways. They didn't come wrapped in holiday paper, or tied up neatly with a bow. The Gifts of this year's Season were human acts of love, of kindness, of forgiveness. Ahh. That's the big one, isn't it? Forgiveness. It's such a complicated thing to do, but it's so important for our happiness. So here I am, looking back at Christmas and finding myself humbled by several events that have occurred. I have holiday guests who are staying with me and reminding me how much I am loved. I have joyfully reconnected with my sister who I thought I had lost; to see her again and laugh with her was a blessing I would have never thought possible. I've also been lifted up by my friends, by my dear readers, by my choir buddies - in fact, there is so much love in the air, I cannot just act as if Love, Joy, Hope and Peace don't exist...because they do.
In early December, after months of rehearsal, my choir performed the Magnificat composed by a British composer Johnathan Willcocks. The Magnificat is the Song of Mary, the text of which is contained in the Gospel of Luke. On the Sunday of our presentation, Rev. Jake Caldwell gave an early service sermon about the Magnificat. Below is the text of his message and he was kind enough to send it to me so that I might share it here.
Jake is Minister in Residence at Central Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Lexington Kentucky. I hope you enjoy what he has to say about Mary, about hope, about Love. Peace. KJT
In Jake's words:
Luke 1:46-55 The Magnificat
12/06/09
"This morning I plan to depart slightly from the prescribed lectionary readings, but not without good reason. As most of you probably know, during our 11:00 service later this morning, we will be treated to a choral and instrumental presentation of The Magnificat. As I understand it in my extreme non-expertise of music, The Magnificat is based on and inspired by the song or prayer of Mary in the first chapter of Luke’s Gospel. That text—one of the most famous and influential texts in the church’s history—will be our focus both for this service and for the next, albeit in different ways. I’ve been reminded this week that illuminating commentary on our sacred texts comes to us in a diversity of ways in addition to books. We also find it, among other places, in art and song. And I mention that in the hope that those of you who are able will stick around this morning to hear a second reading of our text. That second reading will be presented in song and so might edify us in ways that the spoken word cannot.
In parallel fashion, Luke introduces us to Mary who has found favor with God and, to her even greater surprise, will also bear a son. Luke tells us that Mary’s child, Jesus, will also be great, the Son of the Most High, and will reign over the house of Jacob forever. Once the news of these two miraculous pregnancies has reached the interested parties, Mary goes to visit Elizabeth. And it is during that visit that the unlikely story of Mary’s pregnancy is confirmed by the testimony of a Spirit-filled Elizabeth and her unborn child who leaps at Mary’s greeting.
You all know the story, you’ve probably heard it a million times. Still, it all happens so quickly…almost too quickly for us to digest it. It’s a lot to take in. In just a handful of verses we meet two families, hear of two angelic visitations, and learn of two miraculous and unexpected pregnancies. We learn that both children are bound for lofty roles in the unfolding plan of God. And Luke is clear that the significance of all of these happenings is somehow rooted both in Israel’s past and in the unrealized promise of God’s future. Luke gives us almost too much information in too short a time for us to consider the significance of the story he tells us. But then, all of a sudden, as if to ensure that we have truly heard and understood what God is doing, Luke brings his story to a screeching halt. He clears the crowded stage of angels; Joseph is nowhere to be found; even Zechariah and Elizabeth, in whose home Mary is staying, are temporarily out of sight. Luke focuses our attention narrowly and intensely on Mary. She has carefully considered all of the strange things she has heard and seen, and now she will respond in faith saying:
Luke 1:46-55 "My soul magnifies the Lord, 47 and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, 48 for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; 49 for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. 50 His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. 51 He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. 52 He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; 53 he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. 54 He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, 55 according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever." [The word of the Lord]
You know, I found myself thinking about Mary quite a bit while I was away for Thanksgiving last week. She was on my mind, though maybe not for the obvious reasons. I wasn’t thinking about her because I’d be preaching on her prayer when I got back and had to think of something worthwhile to say in twenty minutes or less. And it wasn’t because this is the time of year when, as a good Protestant, I’m obliged to rummage through the bin of faith stories, pull Mary out, dust her off, and give her her due: a few weeks of consideration until I send her to lie dormant in my mind until next year. The truth is that I was thinking about Mary because I spent the Thanksgiving holiday with my very big, very Catholic extended family. And whenever I spend time with them, listen to their prayers, and hear about the practices of their faith, I am reminded that for much of Christ’s church—the majority, in fact—Mary is much more than a seasonal phenomenon. In fact, at our staff meeting this week, one person reminded us that the daily office—which is a tradition of daily prayer practiced by many Christians throughout the world—includes reciting the Magnificat, or Mary’s prayer, our text for this morning.
That leads me to wonder what it would mean to pray those words every day. “My soul magnifies the Lord,” Mary says, “and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” It’s a beautiful prayer. It offers words of praise, recalls how God has dealt with God’s people, and speaks of God’s mercy and justice and care. I wonder how it might shape our perspective on the challenges of our own lives and on the happenings of the world to be intentional about remembering the works and the promises of God each day. There is something to be said, I think, about taking a wide view—a broader perspective—and situating things in a context that is larger and more significant than our individual lives.
I knew a woman who was so easily overwhelmed by bad news about the economy, crime, and just about anything else, that she lost her ability to function as a healthy member of society. She restricted her children from doing anything that posed even the smallest risk. Financially she was very well-off, even wealthy, yet she lived in constant fear that she would lose her home and end up on the street. Eventually she got to the point where she would avoid leaving her house altogether. In fact, she avoided anything that would present the slightest element of uncertainty or the smallest risk. Now, hers is an extreme case, but I think there is a bit of her struggle in all of us. We are no strangers to the temptation to avoid risk and uncertainty. It is a temptation that seems to surface in times when our instinct for self-preservation conflicts with the way God has called us to live in world.
One of the things I find helpful about Mary’s prayer is that in the midst of some troubling and uncertain circumstances of her own, she is able to take a step back and place her situation in a context broader than her own life. She looks back to recall God’s goodness in dealing with God’s people as she also looks forward to the full accomplishment of God’s promises. What would it be like, I wonder, for us to view our own fears and anxiety and disappointment in light of that story of all that God has done and will do? To my mind, Mary’s prayer is both profound and profoundly relevant. And not just at Christmas time, but anytime—anytime we want to praise God, anytime we need to deepen our understanding of God’s mercy and justice, anytime we need to be reminded of God’s promises and care for God’s people.
Why is it, then, that we only turn to Mary’s prayer in the Advent season as Christmas approaches? What is it that keeps us from gathering at the feet of Mary to hear her voice and learn from her example? There are a couple of things I suspect. One is that for much of the church’s history, Matthew’s Gospel has been given a dominant voice in the church’s worship, preaching, and teaching. Matthew’s Gospel, of course, says little about Mary, telling a version of the Christmas story in which Joseph is a more significant character. Among the gospel writers, only Luke allows us to hear Mary’s voice at all. And it is only Luke who so carefully and intentionally elevates Mary as an example of faithfulness and commitment to the mission of God in the world. In spite of her own fears and uncertainty, Luke has her proclaim boldly, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” If we lose Luke’s distinct voice among the gospels, we lose Mary’s example of faithfulness along with it.
I’ll get at another reason why I think we’re prone to miss out on what Mary has to teach us by way of an example from my own faith history. It’s an example that is not universally true, but is certainly not unique to my experience. Growing up in the Protestant wing of a Catholic family, I was taught or otherwise assumed some level of suspicion around the whole Mary thing. Don’t get me wrong. We were no Mary haters. But Mary’s place was as one of the Christmas characters—like the wise men and shepherds and angels and Joseph. Giving Mary any attention, any consideration, beyond that was thought to be a little suspect. After all, once the Christmas story has ended in Luke’s Gospel, we won’t hear any more from Mary. Once she has given birth, the focus will be on her son, Jesus, and on all that he said and did and taught.
But further, more mature reflection might lead us to believe that that isn’t entirely true, and that Mary’s contribution to the Christian faith goes well beyond her womb. In the coming year, we’ll read many texts and hear many sermons on the words and work of Jesus. And many of those will focus on the central teaching of the gospels—the kingdom of God. We should point out that in Luke’s Gospel, it is Mary who first describes the kingdom of God with force and clarity. Remember her words, “For the Mighty One […] 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. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy.”
What I’m wondering is how often we hear those words echoed in the teaching of Jesus. How did Mary’s understanding of the character of God shape Jesus’ vision of the kingdom of God? Which of his famous sayings are rooted in the faith that his mother taught him? And how were Jesus’ interactions with people influenced by Mary’s conviction that God’s special care goes out to the poor, the meek, and the lowly? Of course, there is no way to know the answer to those questions with any certainty. But I suspect that Mary’s voice will reach us more often than we might think as we journey through Luke’s Gospel in the coming year.
There is another reason why I think we’ve been reluctant to hear Mary, and I think it might be the most significant reason of all. And that is that Mary’s words can be difficult for us to hear, and even more difficult for us to pray with sincerity. “[God] has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts...brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly…filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.” Those are radical words. At least they sound radical to me. They are words that might seem unbecoming of the humble Mary and out of place in the serenity of the manger scene. They are impolite words, showing no deference to any of the powerful players that Luke names only to brush aside and forget: Herod, Caesar Augustus, Quirinius governor of Syria, Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate, the list could go on. You see, above all else, Mary’s words are risky. They are risky because she is a young, unwed mother-to-be with no worldly status or power, yet she dares to critique the proud, the mighty, the exalted ones, and the rich. Just who does she think she is? And what good will it do her or anyone else to upset the apple cart by saying that the ordering of the world as we see it now does not reflect the promise of God? If the wrong person were to hear her say those things, all that has been accomplished could be in jeopardy.
But you know, I think the greater risk that Mary takes when she prays those words is the risk that hope always carries with it. After all, consider what we find when the dust of Mary’s prayer has settled. She says, “[God] has filled the hungry with good things,” but the hungry are still there. She says, “[God] has put down the mighty from their thrones,” but only a few short verses later we learn that Caesar is still tending to the interests of the empire. Luke tells us that once she has finished speaking, Mary simply returns home and the story continues as if nothing had been said. So, should we say that Mary’s words are just pious bluster or the product of a misguided hope? I can certainly understand why one might come to that conclusion. But as people of faith, I say Mary has something important to teach us about hope. And that is that for us, hope is always rooted in memory: Memory of God’s faithfulness to God’s people, memory of God’s promises, memory of God’s mercy and justice. For Christians, hope and memory go hand-in-hand. And what better time for us to be reminded of that than in this season when we await the arrival of Jesus of Nazareth, the culmination of God’s promises and the hope of the world.
Of course, that still leaves us with the question, was it worth the risk for Mary to pray as she does? Or perhaps the more pointed question is this: Is it worth our risk to pray with her? Is it worth our risk to lift up her vision of hope in the midst of all we see around us? The answer to that question is exactly why I think we still need to hear Mary’s voice. We need her example of faithfulness and hopeful waiting…not just at Christmas time, but all the time."
1 comment:
Thanks for your peaceful and kind sensitivities Kim. Your writing is always uplifting.
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