Advent 4 C

Micah 5:2-5; Luke 1:46-55; Hebrews 10:5-10; Luke 1:39-55

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It begins privately. Quietly.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget this story — this prequel to the Christmas story — comes from an age before tabloids and email and Facebook and Social Media…it’s rare, almost indecent that we, as listeners, are eavesdropping on this private conversation between two ancient women about their pregnancies. In the culture of Elizabeth and Mary, you did not talk about wombs in public.

But Mary’s was no typical pregnancy, was it? (Well, maybe there is no such thing as a typical pregnancy.) But Mary had found herself bearing the child that seemed to come from nowhere…except she had been visited by an messenger of God that told her not to be afraid, and that the child she would bear would be none other than the Savior of the Nations.

Another thing that you didn’t do back then was travel alone as a woman without an official reason, like a religious festival. But off Mary goes — something told her she needed to go out and visit her relative Elizabeth. Mary knows something miraculous is happening within her. And Elizabeth knows too because when they greet each other they experience some kind of womb-to-womb communication.

When Elizabeth tells Mary that she, too, senses the miracle occurring, Mary can do nothing other than break into song. Sometimes music is the only way we can convey the depth of what’s happening in our soul. So Mary sings. But…the words she sings are incredible:

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord. My spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; (Luke 1.48)

She proclaims that God has done something amazing. God has chosen an unlikely person to be a part of this new thing that God was up to.

But her song doesn’t stop there.

She sings of the God that not only lifts up the lowly servants like Mary, but brings down the proud and stubbornly powerful so that all may become equals as humans. Those who have hoarded or wasted supply what is needed for those who are hungry. God breaks down every dividing wall to preserve justice and mercy for all the beloved as a continuation of a promise that God made long ago, and intends to keep forever and ever.

And all of this from…young, unknown Mary. God’s most precious message to the world is borne by someone whom that same world would describe as weak and unimportant. What God does within her proves what true power is.

God’s salvation starts small, in the womb of a poor, young woman. And the transformation that happened within that young woman changed the world forever.

I think this is the pattern for how God renews the world today.

If there’s one thing we know, it’s that the world needs to be renewed. Just watch the news, right? Is there any part of our world that doesn’t need to be transformed? From politics to poverty to our own prognoses…the world around us…and within us…is dying to be renewed. And just like in the time that Jesus was born, power — and the power to make the necessary changes — in our world is not shared equally among all people.

And doesn’t it always seem like power is in the wrong hands? That the people who have the greatest ability to fix things are the ones who do the least to change?

We had a good conversation last week at our church council meeting about how to faithfully respond to difficult questions like the classic, ‘why do bad things happen to good people?’ And what can we do or say about the endless supply of problems in our world? How do we respond? What do we tell children?

At some point, you’ve probably felt this sense of hopelessness. I have. Even when we think we know what God wants for our world…what chance does any one of us have at making it happen in the face of all the evil and misplaced power in the world? What chance do we have?

But really we should ask: what chance did Mary have to change the world? Maybe none. But…she was given the chance to be a part of God’s transformation of the world. She allowed herself to be transformed first, and the world came along with it. In her small corner of the world, in her almost powerless position in society, she was changed by God, and she bore Christ into the world.

Mary had every right and reason to give up hope that the miracle that she was called to nurture inside of her could even be possible. The world should not have allowed it to happen. But in letting herself be changed, the whole world was changed in the process.

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This reminds me of the language we use in baptism and confirmation. I have said these words to dozens of confirmation-age teenagers. Young folks, by the way, who are right at the same age that Mary may have been when she gave birth to Jesus.

These are the words we use:

“You have made public profession of your faith. Do you intend to continue in the covenant God made with you in holy baptism:

• to live among God’s faithful people,
• to hear the word of God and share in the Lord’s supper,
• to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed,
• to serve all people, following the example of Jesus,
• and to strive for justice and peace in all the earth?”¹

Because of the new life in Baptism, each of us is called to transformation. It seems simple at first. A little bit of water. A church to belong to. A meal to eat and to share. But as baptism works on us, it spirals outward. It calls us to be a part of transformation much bigger than just our individual selves. It calls us to be changed for the sake of all the earth.

In our Gospel story, God took someone whom the world said had a pretty narrow and limited calling and gave her a new one. It became Mary’s calling to bear Christ into this world.

It doesn’t end with Mary. It is also our calling to bear Christ into this world, as well. To be transformed ourselves…and then to be a part of God’s transformation of this world — starting from the simple things and ending with justice and peace throughout all the earth.