December 19th Sermon by The Reverend Loree Reed

Luke 1: 39–45
Lord, may we hear your voice in the words spoken in your name. Amen.

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.
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.”
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.
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.
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?”
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
To God be the glory for the things he has done.
Amen.
 
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