Preached at All Saints, Collingwood, Anglican Diocese of Toronto, 22 December, 2024, the Fourth Sunday of Advent.
Texts for Advent 4C: Micah 5:2-5A; Canticle 18 (Luke 1:47-55) OR Psalm 80:1-7; Hebrews 10:5-10; Luke 1:39-45 (46-55)
And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfilment of what was spoken to her by the Lord. (Lk 1:45)
The first chapter of Luke’s gospel is one packed full of wondrous events - comings and goings, visits and announcements. Some of these visits and announcements are awe inspiring and momentous - the angel Gabriel coming to Zechariah and Mary with news of unbelievable pregnancies and children that will change the world. In contrast, the third visit, that of Mary to her kinswoman Elizabeth in today’s gospel, may seem homey and ordinary, a young woman dropping in on an aunt or early cousin, but in their own ways, what these two women say to one another is just as powerful as the angel Gabriel’s words.
Today I want to focus on Mary and Elizabeth as people of faith who trust that God will deliver on his promises. Mary and Elizabeth can inspire us to hear with fresh ears the good news we hear every Christmas, that God comes into our human world with love and justice to save the world that God loves. Mary and Elizabeth can inspire us to show Christ anew to the world through our own lived faith and actions.
First let’s consider the reasons why Mary would want to seek out her relative Elizabeth. The trip between Mary’s house in Nazareth of Galilee and Elizabeth’s house in the hills near Jerusalem (today known as Ein Karem) was about one hundred kilometres, so not an inconsiderable journey for a young woman, whether on foot or maybe by donkey. We can guess at the reasons. Mary has recently learned from the angel Gabriel that she has miraculously conceived a child who “will be holy, who will be called the Son of God” (Lk 1.35). Even though she receives this news calmly (“let it be with me according to your word” Lk 1.38), we can imagine that her life has now been thrown into disarray.
We can imagine that one reason she would want to get away is because of what others would perceive as a scandalous pregnancy. Matthew’s gospel has the account of Gabriel visiting Mary’s betrothed Joseph to allay his fears about the pregnancy (Mt 1:18-25), and presumably this has already happened. It’s also six months since her relative Elizabeth has miraculously become pregnant, and that news would have travelled, so we can imagine Mary wanting to take refuge with an older relation who would understand her situation. And what Elizabeth will understand is that God is up to something wonderful, because when she conceived at her old age, Elizabeth said that “This is what the Lord has done for me” (Lk 1.25). And so Mary goes to be with the one person who will understand what God is doing.
The scene where Mary arrives at Elizabeth’s house is one of the loveliest in all of scripture. Sometimes in the gospels we get these rare and lovely domestic vignettes of private homes where real people come together in love and friendship, surrounded by God’s grace. The home of Lazarus and his sisters, a refuge for Jesus and his friends, is one such place. Elizabeth’s home in the hills above Jerusalem is another. We can imagine a cozy, domestic scene and a joyous welcome as Mary arrives, but it’s also a scene full of God’s activity, for the child leaping in Elizabeth’s womb will be John the Baptist, who here in utero is already beginning his vocation of announcing the coming of Christ. And there is Elizabeth, not just an incongruously pregnant old lady but also the wife of a priest, Zechariah, and herself a person of deep faith and belief that God would keep his promises to his people.
I think it’s worth taking a minute to consider the context here and what it is these people want and hope for - the Messiah, the Saviour of Israel who will be sent by God. Elizabeth and Mary are people who live under occupation. As faithful Jews, they know the stories about how God freed his people from slavery in Egypt and in Babylon. The remember their great kings, David and Solomon, and they know it’s been centuries since a Jewish king has sat on David’s throne. They have faith that God will send another David, some mighty king, to rescue them. Mary has already leaned into that faith when she said yes to Gabriel. And now Elizabeth recognizes that faith in her young cousin, for what she says to Mary is significant: “blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfilment of what was spoken to her by the Lord” (Lk 1:45).
And what does Mary believe? We see her faith laid out in what has become known as the Magnificat, perhaps the greatest hymn of longing for deliverance in all of scripture. In her song, she expresses her faith that God will look kindly on those the world deems to be of no account (“he has looked with favour on the lowliness of his servant”). She praises the faithfulness of God, who is with us “from generation to generation … according to the promise he made to our ancestors”. She points to the mighty power of God that will sweep away the Emperor in Rome who will soon decree that all the world will be taxed (Lk 2.1). And Mary declares that in a world where only a few can feast, God will bring food and wellbeing to the hungry.
It’s remarkable that the Song of Mary has become so spiritualized, so set apart in gorgeous musical settings in liturgy, that we somehow don’t think about it as applying to the real world, but isn’t the real world where God in Christ Jesus is born? It is the same world where people still chafe under dictatorships and would-be emperors, where we see a handful of mighty oligarchs and tech billionaires feasting while millions go hungry. Even though faith in God and God’s promises has dwindled, there is still a desire, especially at Christmas, for some better reality to appear, even briefly.
Last night, a few of us were handing out hot chocolate at the Christmas market, we told folks that it was free but that donations would go towards our food ministry, because our church feeds a lot of people. That was always well received and made people want to open their wallets. At some primal level, even in what some call the post-Christian world, people still want the hungry to be filled with good things.
And you, dear saints, this Christmas, what do you do want? What do you hope for? Would Elizabeth say of you that we are blessed for believing that God would make good on God’s promises? Should the poor and lowly have dignity and value? Should the hungry be filled with good things? Should we trust in God’s power rather than worship those who chase earthly power? Dare we believe that God is faithful to God’s ancient promises?
If you can say yes to these things, and if you can even try to do these things, than surely you are blessed. And, dear saints, if you feel that you cannot come to believe these things, then ask for the faith to believe, for as Advent has taught us, the Lord is near. Indeed, the Lord may be closer than you think, for with every act of hospitality, with every word of encouragement, with every kindness to the poor and lonely, and with every beat of a thankful heart and every prayer of praise, you have been faithful to the vision of God's kingdom that Mary described in her great song.
The Lord is near. Our Advent journey is nearly over. Once again we've heard the promises of God, that he would save us. And now Jesus stirs, waiting to be born in Bethlehem, waiting to be born anew in the hope and life and actions of each faithful believer, for as the poet Rumi once said, each of us has a Christ within. Just as Mary bore Christ because she believed in God's promises, so we can show Christ to the world by living out our own faith. My prayer for us this Christmas is that we, like Mary, dare to believe in God's promises, for as old Elizabeth told Mary, blessed are those that dare to believe.