Luke 1: 39–45
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Lord, may we hear your voice in the words spoken in your name. Amen.
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We’re almost there. We have spent a couple of weeks now,
recalling God’s promises to Israel that — despite their
disobedience, despite their rebellion — he would one day send
them a messenger, a very special Messenger who would enlighten their
darkness and lead them into all righteousness. And soon we
ourselves will enter into the beautiful mystery, the holy mystery
this Advent season is all about as that Messenger arrives. But
before we actually get there, before we get to that stable in Bethlehem,
this morning we meet Mary – just after she has heard from the
archangel Gabriel that she will bear the Son of the Most High, the
Savior of the World.
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So right away we have to stop and think about who this figure, this
young girl Mary, really is — for over the centuries there has
been a lot of confusion about her. Some Christians, especially
Christians in the Catholic and Orthodox traditions, have venerated her,
emphasizing her purity and calling her the Queen of Heaven.
Protestants and Evangelicals, on the other hand, have simply ignored
her. And still others have taken a purely sentimental view of
her, as if she were only a kind of Hallmark figure. What we
have to know is that the call of God came to an ordinary young girl and
she responded with simple faith and obedience. Gabriel said to
Mary, “You have found favor with God. The power of the
Holy Spirit will come upon you, and you will give birth to the
Savior.” And when Mary understandably asked, “How
can this be?” the angel replied,“Nothing will be
impossible with God.”
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So Mary could be a stand–in for any one of us – an ordinary
person called by God and asked to take part in something extraordinary.
Not because she is extraordinary . . . or
high born . . . or specially
gifted . . . but because Nothing will
be impossible with God. That’s the nature of the call,
because God chooses the simple to confound the wise. God chooses
the humble to shame the strong. God chooses the ordinary to do
something extraordinary. For nothing will be impossible with God.
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So this is not, finally, a story about Mary. Luke understands that
the real wonder of the story lies in everything God will now do for the
world through the baby now being formed in Mary’s womb. And
he tells that story by having young Mary run excitedly to visit her
older kinswoman Elizabeth – to share her prophetic news. And
when she arrives, both women, aided by the Holy Spirit of God, then
begin to prophesy.
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As Mary approaches Elizabeth the child the older woman is carrying leaps
for joy in her womb — in recognition of his approaching Savior
and Lord. Elizabeth’s child, of course, will be John the
Baptist, the forerunner, the pre–cursor of Jesus Christ. And
he begins his practice of putting his Savior and Lord before him right
then and there, while they are both still in their mother’s
wombs. Elizabeth, his mother, follows suit by blessing young Mary
and blessing the child now forming in Mary’s womb, saying, “And
why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?”
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Already, you see, God is turning everything we expect upside down.
For in the world, of course, it’s the elder one, not the younger,
who is usually blessed. But that’s not the way God plans to
do things. He plans to do things differently — in a way no
one expects. This is the carnival meaning, the joyful, crazy,
topsy–turvy meaning of incarnation, God’s advent into
this world. Incarnation always disrupts things. It means
that God in the flesh – in–carne — is invading
our world. And nothing – ever again – will be the same.
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Just how different things will be is what Mary now, prophetically,
declares in the canticle we have come to call Magnificat. For
she recognizes what we have already seen – that this story is not
about her. It is about God and about what he will do in the world
through his Son. And Mary sees it all coming with great joy.
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What she sees coming tells us a lot about the nature of God. The
fact that he has chosen her to bear his Son tells her that he
doesn’t choose people who have it all together or who already
think well of themselves. No, he scatters the proud and lifts up
the lowly, the humble in heart. Does he respect those who have
scratched and clawed their way to the top of the heap?
No. His concern, his mercy is aimed at those at the bottom, the
ones others would leave out entirely. Does he live in a mansion
and dine out in the best restaurants? No. He’ll be
born in a stable and will stage banquets for the poor. Does he love
and choose the ones who are lovable? No, God loves the
unlovable. God forgives the imperfect. God reaches out to
the lost.
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And what I know is that that puts you and me into this Advent
story. We aren’t high born any more than Mary was. We
too feel powerless in the face of the world’s indifference, the
world’s cruelty. We too look like foolishness to those who
count themselves wise. But those very qualities are the ones, Luke
tells us, that quickly attract God’s attention. So he might
very well be coming to our house this Advent season. He might very
well be coming for me and for you – for the consternation of some,
but the well–being of every last one of us.
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And when the joy of that knowledge hits my heart, I begin to understand
how Mary felt as she sang Magnificat. He is coming.
I’m sure of that. And his coming into our lives changes
everything.
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To God be the glory for the things he has done.
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Amen.
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