From Christmas Sunday, Dec. 20, 2009 at MCC Seattle
We are given two noteworthy passages to focus our Advent attention on this week (Luke 1:39-55 and Micah 5:2-5a). Both of the passages tell us about a Great Reversal, that is, an unexpected turn of events that we can truthfully say could only be caused by God because…this isn’t the way that things normally work in our world. We begin with the Micah passage in which the prophet foretells of the birth of a Savior, of a new King for Israel, who will be like his ancestor King David, who will bring those who have been exiled back home. This is the same passage that King Herod’s scribes quote as evidence that the messiah is to be born in Bethlehem (Matthew 2:5-6) when the Magi from the East come to Jerusalem expecting to find a new king of the Jews.
The references to David are obvious. Bethlehem was the birthplace of David, Israel’s most famous ruler who also was a shepherd. This was probably not a prophesy about Jesus, but the infant church saw this passage exactly that way and claimed it for their own. Bethlehem was not thought of as an important city, being on the outskirts of the politically and religiously important Jerusalem. Historically it was the home of the smallest, the littlest, the most inconsequential tribe of Israel. References to Bethlehem are used to describe one who was younger, of lesser social status or of little political power.
However, we know that Jacob, Joseph, and David were all younger brothers who were chosen over their older siblings to become leaders, and who were honored by the rest of Israel throughout its history. They are examples of the Great Reversal. Jacob gets the birthright over his brother Esau. Joseph is elevated above his older brothers and becomes the one who saves all of his people and also all of Egypt from starvation.
When Samuel comes to look over the sons of Jesse, seeking to annoint a new King, David is so insignificant that his father doesn’t even call him in from the fields until Samuel has rejected all of his siblings and asks if there aren’t more sons. Then David, the youngest and most insignificant son, is brought back from the fields where he was caring for the sheep, and Samuel anoints him. David later becomes Israel’s greatest King.
"But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the littlest clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days" (Micah 5:2). The most unlikely, the most insignificant are exalted by God in a great reversal of fortune.
Bethlehem, literally, “The house of bread,” was a backwater village located some 8 miles outside of the walls of Jerusalem. One who comes from Bethlehem cannot be expected to amount to much similar to Nathanael's statement when he hears about Jesus, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" (John 1:46).
Can anything good come out of Nazareth, or Bethlehem? And yet, in the case of Bethlehem and those who come from her, the old biblical pattern holds true: the insignificant are exalted. The tables are turned, and the most unlikely of people become instruments of God's salvation. From this insignificant little village, a young shepherd boy grows up to become the most beloved king in Israel's history. And a descendant of that king, also born in Bethlehem, fulfills God's long-awaited promises of deliverance, not just for Israel, but for the whole world.
It is not the way of the world, this exaltation of the lowliest. But it is the way God works, over and over and over again throughout history. An insignificant village. A child born to a poor, very young unmarried girl. In today’s second passage it is Mary, who sings a song of the Great Reversal.
Mary rejoices in the promise that the proud will be scattered, the powerful dethroned, the poor raised up, the hungry fed, and the rich emptied. Mary sings out of her own experience, her own hope, but out of the experience and hope of her people as well.
The Magnificat, Mary’s Song, is indeed a lovely expression of joy at God's promises kept, a celebration of the tables being turned, or overturned: the lowly are lifted up, the proud are brought down, and the hungry are fed. God remembers the people of Israel, and the promises God has made to them. What a powerful text for every heart hungry to hear the good news that God is with us: Emmanuel!
In this week's unique situation, we have, in a sense, four unlikely prophets gathered not in the wilderness but on the front step of Elizabeth's home, two of them not even born yet, and still the infant John is already able to acknowledge the One who is greater by leaping inside his mother’s womb. The other two prophets are women, women with names and stories, women with voices and something to say, or in Mary's case, something to sing.
Women and babies: were definitely not at "the top of the heap," here, especially so, since there's an actual priest in the house, Zechariah, a professional, licensed and learned, knows-what-he's-doing expert in matters of faith. Ironically, though, Zechariah is the very one in this scene without a voice, literally, since he's been struck speechless during his own angelic visit for his disbelief and lack of faith. The stage is set this week, then, for us to have the rare opportunity to hear from the women and children for a change. And what a change they dream of!
This rejoicing in the Great Reversal is of course a powerful theme in the whole prophetic tradition, and is the more particularly connected with the Song of Hannah in 1 Samuel 2:1-10, Hannah’s song of vindication and joy at the conception of Samuel when she has been barren for so long. And it was Samuel who set the pattern of relations between prophets and kings that more or less defined the prophet’s role for centuries. Mary’s song echoes this prophetic tradition powerfully, and at the same time looks forward to the role she will play in God’s mercy being shown to generations “from now on”: because “the Mighty One has done great things for me,” because of God’s particular action in empowering Mary to conceive Jesus, she herself is blessed and is the channel through whom blessing will enter the world “from generation to generation.”
When we take Mary’s own words and speak them out as we did today, we are including ourselves in the work of the Great Reversal, and we in our time and place are included in the bringing-forth of blessing that feeds the hungry and lifts up the lowly and transforms the distribution of power. In taking on these words as our own, we can be encouraged to think about the concrete ways in which Mary’s song bears out “the promise made to our ancestors” in our own work for justice and peace today. These are the things that make our spirits rejoice in God our Savior.
Today’s passage begins “In those days Mary set out,” with little or no explanation of what “those days” include. The situation is this: Elizabeth is six months pregnant with the child who will grow up to be John the Baptist, whose conception, birth, and vocation were foretold to his father Zechariah by the angel Gabriel. However, Zechariah has been struck speechless because he wouldn’t believe Gabriel’s message. Contrary to Zechariah’s lack of faith, Elizabeth, his wife is rejoicing that her barrenness has been relieved and she has been vindicated by God’s empowering her to conceive. In that respect Elizabeth stands in the line of Hannah the mother of the prophet Samuel.
Just before this episode, Mary had also been visited by Gabriel, who announced to her that she would conceive and bear a son, despite her protest that she was a virgin. Gabriel continues by telling her that this son would be called the Child of the Most High. Mary receives this startling news by saying “Let it me with me according to your word,” giving her “Yes” to God, and so co-creating with God the possibility of blessing and salvation.
But because she is not yet married, and to conceive and bear a child would put her in a very precarious and potentially life-threatening social position in Nazareth, and possibly a precarious position with Joseph—so perhaps Mary decides she needs the wisdom and guidance of an older woman who can understand her unusual situation. That is why she “set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country,” where Elizabeth and Zechariah live, to stay with them for about three months.
When Elizabeth hears Mary’s greeting, it touches off a series of recognitions. Such “recognition scenes” were a staple element of classic Greek literature, and Luke, being a fine storyteller in the Hellenistic style, uses that Greek literary element to good effect in his narrative. When Mary greets Elizabeth, the unborn John the Baptist in Elizabeth’s womb recognizes the presence of the unborn Jesus in Mary’s womb, and leaps for joy. Elizabeth then recognizes the meaning of her baby’s movement—not just a random kick, but a ready greeting—and in turn recognizes Mary as “the mother of my Lord” and “she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”
This recognition on Elizabeth’s part is the work of the Holy Spirit, which empowers her to identify realities she herself could not have witnessed firsthand. Mary, in turn, recognizes the work of the Spirit in Elizabeth’s sudden knowledge, and responds by singing her famous song, the Magnificat.
It is in this complex weave of recognitions and recognitions-within-recognitions that the witness to the coming of the Christ emerges. No one element alone tells the whole story; but together these women and their unborn children proclaim the advent of the God into the world in human form. Emanuel, God with us. They are therefore living signs of the Great Reversal: two women, insignificant in the eyes of their male-dominated patriarchal culture—one old and one young; one previously barren and one just entering her childbearing years; neither possessing any particular dignity nor power— yet they are the first to recognize the embodiment of God’s holiness in a human form.
Put another way, in more relational terms, Elizabeth and Mary’s relationships—with each other, with God, with Zechariah and Joseph, with the townspeople and villagers; relationships both of support and subjugation, both suspicion and rejoicing—Elizabeth and Mary’s relationships form the social matrix in which God can bring forth new possibilities for the realization of justice, peace and love. Those new possibilities are gathered most obviously in the unborn John and Jesus, whose potentials will unfold in their adult lives of ministry and mission. But those new possibilities are also immediately evident in Elizabeth and Mary, in the inspiration and insight and songs they share, in the way their lives are redirected by the potentials for justice and peace God opens up for them.
The new life promised in Mary's pregnancy, is the focus of Luke's story, as it fulfills God’s promises to all humankind, but one wonders how these two humble women must have felt about what was happening in their own lives. Henri Nouwen says, "Who could ever understand? Who could ever believe it? Who could ever let it happen? But Mary says, 'Let it happen to me', and she immediately realizes that only Elizabeth will be able to affirm her 'yes'. For three months Mary and Elizabeth live together and encourage each other to truly accept the motherhood given to them." As Nouwen reads this story, neither woman had to wait alone for the extraordinary events to unfold, slowly, as pregnancies do: "They could wait together and thus deepen in each other their faith in God, for whom nothing is impossible. Thus, God's most radical intervention into history was listened to and received in community."
You and I and those gathered around you this morning are joined in community with each other. We are those who are blessed to hear the Good News about Jesus Christ today. It is to us that God has come again this Christmas: Emmanuel, God with us. It is through us that God will complete God’s work, through our relationships with each other, through our joint efforts to take that Good News to our own families, friends, and acquaintances, and to the greater community around us here in Seattle.
The question we must ask ourselves this morning then is how will we recognize the presence of Christ within and among ourselves, what will we do to bring into reality God’s justice and God’s peace in our own lives and in the lives of others? How will we redirect our lives to make it possible for us to accomplish the new opportunities God desires to bring forth for us, for our church, for our community, for our city, for our world?
Like Mary and Elizabeth we do have a choice: We could reject God’s presence with us this Christmas. Or we could accept the Christ Child into our lives again and also accept with Him the blessings God wants to give to us and to bring about through us? Will you sing joyfully and boldly with Mary this Christmas about the promises of God?
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