Sermon: “Magnifying the Lord”

Text: Luke 1:39-56

4^th Sunday of Advent (B)

December 21, 2008

Scripture introduction.  The Christmas story as told by Luke begins with the angel Gabriel coming to the priest Zechariah, as he ministered in the temple at Jerusalem.  Much as the divine messengers had promised to Abraham and Sarah that they would have a child in their old age, so Gabriel promised to Zechariah that he and his wife Elizabeth would have a son, despite the fact that, as Luke puts it, “both were getting on in years.”  This son, it will later appear, is John the Baptist.  Elizabeth did conceive, and in the sixth month of her pregnancy, Gabriel made a second appearance, this time in the insignificant Galilean town of Nazareth, to a young woman named Mary.  Gabriel told Mary that she would have a child.  Mary courageously accepted this news but also asked, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?”  Gabriel answered that it would happen by the power of the Holy Spirit and that her son would be holy and would be called the Son of God.  As if to prove that all things are possible with God, Gabriel added that Mary’s aging relative Elizabeth and her husband Zechariah were expecting a child.

As our passage this morning begins, Mary, having received this news from the angel, has hurried to visit Elizabeth.  When Mary arrives, Elizabeth prophetically discerns that Mary is pregnant (although Mary could not have been showing by this point) and knows that the child will be her Lord.  Elizabeth blesses Mary; and Elizabeth’s unborn child, John the Baptist, actually leaps in her womb, in joyful recognition of Mary’s unborn child, Jesus.

At this point in the narrative Luke places a lengthy song on the lips of Mary, in which she quotes liberally from the Old Testament.  The closest analogue to Mary’s song is the Old Testament song that long-barren Hannah sang[1] when according to prophecy she gave birth to her son Samuel.  I purposely departed from the lectionary this morning so that you would have the song of Hannah in our first reading to compare with the song of Mary in our second. 

Now if you ask me whether I believe that Mary actually broke into a complicated song filled with scriptural references, I would say, “probably not.”  Almost like an opera, or a song in a Broadway musical, this song is a dramatic device—Luke’s way of emphasizing how the birth and life of Jesus would bring about God’s salvation.  We don’t know whether the song was original with Luke, or whether he may have fitted to his own narrative purposes a pre-existing song of the early Christian church.  Traditionally, Mary’s song is called the “Magnificat” because that is the first word of her song in Latin, as she sings that her soul “magnifies” the Lord.

Sermon.  As we figuratively draw nearer to Bethlehem and to our celebration of the birth of our savior Jesus, already I am filled with memories of Christmas 2008.  Two weeks ago I was singing in our cantata and was full of happiness and purpose as our voices joined with the instrumentalists for an inspiring musical offering.  And what a joy it was last week to see the Christmas story enacted by our children and youth!  The good humor, sincerity, and wonder with which they portrayed the good news of Jesus’ birth reminded me that at the heart of the gospel is the simple message of God’s great love for every one of us.  Thanks to a lot of help from the Ladies Day Out group at Central, this week our own house was transformed into a wondrous banquet of cookies and tea and hot chocolate and savories of every variety. 

Amanda and I have enjoyed your many kindnesses during the season, especially opening your Christmas cards with their expressions of Christmas joy and affection.  Every day I have used our Advent devotional booklet, and your interpretations of the scriptures have blessed me.  At Christmas it is my honor to deliver in your name multiple boxes of food purchased by the deacons with your generous contributions in those green pew envelopes.  I did that yesterday and witnessed the happiness and relief that those boxes spelled for the recipients.  At the same time, identical boxes were being picked up by the families of the children enrolled in our church’s pre-school program; and because of your gifts they also received toys for all the children in each family and some warm clothes.  There are other events on the calendar that are about to become cherished Christmas memories—our joint concert this afternoon and our candlelight service of lessons and carols this Christmas Eve.  Each one of these is a happy time for me, as I see our church active and involved, worshipping and caring.  Even outside the church there are pleasant reminders of Christmas.  Everywhere I go—shopping malls, restaurants, banks, even the downtown streets—there are Christmas decorations and Christmas music. 

Of course, as we often remind ourselves, Christmas can be a difficult time.  Some of us are not in good health and are not able to participate in many—or any—of the special activities.  Some are alone; and while seeing so many other families reunited brings a vicarious joy, it also reminds them of their own family members who are absent due to distance, illness, or death.  Just as there are good anniversaries and memories during the Christmas season, so also there are painful ones.  In this time when our world economy is so shaky, some necessarily and wisely have cut back on their holiday spending; and these reductions may be felt as a loss.  Even for the healthy and prosperous Christmas sometimes seems more “blue” than “bright,” when all the preparations and the lights and the food and the parties and the music fail to deliver the constant joy that we think we should be experiencing at this time of the year.

Maybe that’s why, as Irving Berlin wrote, “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas.”  To wake up on Christmas morning, after weeks of joyous but sometimes exhausting preparations, and to feel the hush of the snow on the ground and the sense of quiet that envelopes the world—that’s a good feeling.  It’s a relief, even for one day, just to enjoy whatever Christmas we have—to prop our feet up, to have an extra cup of coffee, to enjoy some of our holiday goodies, and simply rest.  (Of course, for families with young children, the words “quiet” and “rest” will have a relative meaning!)  Perhaps it’s easier to hear the good news of Christmas in our hearts when, after weeks of Christmas carols,  the echoes in our ears finally fade.  Even without snow, we may hope for the same mood—finally . . .  the climax, but one that comes quietly, this time without trumpets and kettledrums. 

Isn’t that the sense we get as we read the story of Mary’s visit to Elizabeth?  To be sure, when Elizabeth first saw Mary at the door, she uttered a loud and prophetic cry.  But after that, in the kitchen, they must have settled down, don’t you think?  They were together for three months, until very near the time when Elizabeth would give birth.  They had plenty of time to reflect upon the amazing things that were happening to them.  Intimately, quietly, they must have shared their deepest insights and hopes.  As they anticipated the birth of their children, surely they encouraged one another and expressed their desires for their children.  Perhaps Mary told Elizabeth about the angel Gabriel’s visit.  Maybe Elizabeth gave her younger relative advice about bearing up under the social stigma associated with her pregnancy. 

Luke has compressed Mary’s words into song, but I don’t believe the dynamic marking for that song would be forte, “loud.”  In my mind, it must have been reverent, like a prayer.  In the ancient Jewish understanding, there was no separation between soul and body.  So when Mary sang that her “soul” magnified the Lord, we should hear her saying that with her whole being—body, mind, and spirit—she acknowledged the greatness of God.  In the precarious position of a pregnant, engaged, unmarried woman, she had accepted that God was working in her and through her.  She had accepted Gabriel’s explanation that what was happening to her was holy and blessed, so much that she would be remembered for her faithfulness in all future generations.  Although the new life growing in her belly had not yet quickened, she understood that it was a turning point—the moment when God had begun to save and redeem the created world.  All the ways that humans had distorted that creation—through greed and proud power—would be overturned and repaired.  Through faith, Mary accepted this and expressed it in her song as a present reality, although her son was not yet born. 

There are lessons for us in the way that Mary approached the first Christmas.  Unlike Elizabeth and Hannah and Sarah, she was not longing for a child.  She really wasn’t ready yet.  She did not ask to be the mother of Jesus, but when it happened she accepted it gracefully.  Mary understood it was an honor to do what God asked of her, no matter how it might seem to the rest of the world.  Sometimes at Christmas we pay too much attention to what others think of us.  If we instead seek to do what God is asking, we, too, will have honor and blessing.  Another lesson:  although Mary appreciated the special task that God had set for her, she did not make the mistake of placing herself on center stage.  She understood that she was only a part of God’s larger plan.  This is the essence of humility—to realize that even at our best we are only willing servants of God’s purposes.  Our responsibility is to be faithful; the results are up to God.  Third, when Mary expressed her joy that the world had turned and that God was acting to save God’s people, she knew instinctively what God’s salvation would look like—the hungry would be fed and powerless would be protected.  We would do well to take the Hebrew viewpoint and give up the notion that souls and bodies can be separated from one another: often God saves person’s souls when we respond to the needs of their bodies.

Finally, Mary understood that God’s purposes and power often can be recognized in very small beginnings.  Even before she felt the life in her own son, she understood that his one life could make a difference—the most important difference—in the world.  This Christmas, as the hustle and bustle of the season fades into the quiet happiness of Christmas morning, I hope that we can see that God does not need trumpets and kettledrums; God does not need the Mormon Tabernacle Choir; God does not need perfect Christmas decorations, or the perfect family, or perfect people, to accomplish God’s good will for this world.  God uses us as we are—as God created us.  In the very smallest movements, in the tiniest gracious acts, in solitary persons and especially in communities who are willing to be faithful and to leave the results up to God, the miracle of God’s saving purposes are happening.  Even now, by the Holy Spirit a single life can make a difference in the world.  Yours can be the life that makes the difference.  Our church can be the church that makes the difference.  Like Mary, as we “magnify the Lord,” we will discover that the Lord will magnify us.

Have a quiet Christmas!