“O Come, O Come, Emmanuel!”
During this Advent season, we have listened to prophets foretelling
a time when the savior would come, a savior promising justice,
righteousness, and peace to a downtrodden, anxious people.
Until that day, the prophecies warned of ominous signs and
advised watchfulness, preparation, repentance, and amendment of
life. The people were cautioned to live in a state of readiness.
Today's Gospel from Luke provides a stark contrast to the exhortations
of the previous three Sundays. Now, as was prophesied, the
appearance of the Savior is imminent, and two unlikely and very human
figures are central to the drama—the girl Mary and her aging cousin
Elizabeth. Beautiful in its simplicity, this passage is profound
in its implications for all who would welcome the Messiah. Three
teachings lie at the heart of the story—those of readiness,
recognition, and relationship. Listen.
Once upon a time there was a woman named Elizabeth. She was fair
of face and noble of demeanor. The much admired priest of the
village, Zechariah, sought her to be his bride. As a couple,
these two were expected to set an example of a strong, fruitful
marriage so that others, too, might live faithfully according to God's
plan.
But as the years passed and Elizabeth failed to produce a child, she
began to lose favor with the women of the village. In those days,
it was by the size of her family and success of her children that a
woman's worth was determined. Barrenness was considered a
curse. Elizabeth's childlessness was both a heavy sorrow and an
embarrassment for her and her long-suffering husband, who seemed
destined to die without an heir. Unthinkable for a man living in
that culture.
Then something unbelievable happened. In response to Zechariah's
prayers, an angel appeared to him promising his wife would bear him a
son to be named John, a son who would be “great in the sight of the
Lord.” [Luke 1:15] Wonderful as the angel's message sounded,
Zechariah couldn’t help but doubt—he and Elizabeth were old, she
clearly beyond her childbearing years. For his failure to believe
in the power of the Holy Spirit, Zechariah was struck mute until the
fulfillment of the promise.
Miraculously, Elizabeth did conceive, remaining in seclusion, far from
the prying eyes of the other village women. How could she ever
explain the visitation of an angel? Her late-life
pregnancy? The merciful action of the Lord in her life?
Meanwhile, there was celebrating in the village of Nazareth—a virgin,
Mary, was betrothed to Joseph. The couple would wait the
ritual year before marriage; then they would establish their
household. In the meantime, according to custom, they would
remain chaste.
But one day, just like any ordinary day, the angel Gabriel
appeared to Mary, startling her with his first words: “Greetings,
favored one! The Lord is with you.” [Luke 1:28] What could
those words possibly mean? And how could an angel of the Lord God
be speaking to her—a simple, rustic teenager?
Even more fantastic and disturbing than the angel's appearance was his
message. The Holy Spirit was to come upon Mary, and she was to
conceive and bear a child. And not just any child—the Son of
God! In her heart Mary was surely asking how such a thing could
be. How she could ever face her family or Joseph.
To reassure her, the angel offered as proof that nothing is impossible
with God the news of her cousin Elizabeth's pregnancy. Despite
Mary's fears of censure from all whom she knew and loved, in simple
faith she accepted the role with which God had entrusted her, saying,
“`Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to
your word.’” [Luke 1:38]
After the angel's departure, Mary must have felt both anxiety and
exultation. She couldn’t expect anyone else to understand what
was going to happen to her when she herself didn’t understand.
She needed time—time to reflect on the angel's message, time to prepare
herself for what was to come. Though God was with her, in her
vulnerability and humanity, she must have felt quite alone.
Then it dawned on her. Elizabeth, too, was experiencing a
miraculous pregnancy. She, of all people, might understand.
Leaving Nazareth behind, Mary set out for the Judean hill
country. With every step, she became more convinced of her new
reality—against all expectation and logic, she was the one chosen to
bring the Messiah into the world. What an honor! How could
she fail to rejoice?
When Mary arrived in Judea, Elizabeth greeted her with the immortal
words, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your
womb.” [Luke 1:42] So powerful was that moment of recognition
that even Elizabeth's unborn son leaped within her, as if to
acknowledge the miracle.
What followed was Mary's joyful song of servanthood. In the
stirring words of The Magnificat, she accepted her role and affirmed
the fact that God's kingdom calls for a reversal of expectations.
The proud will be scattered, the powerful will be dethroned, the rich
will be emptied of their wealth; meanwhile, the hungry will be fed, the
lowly will be lifted up, and God's mercy for those who fear him will
endure from generation to generation.
Elizabeth and Mary. Two ordinary, God-fearing women, whose children
would change the world. Two mothers who would lose their sons to
violent deaths.
But let's not get ahead of ourselves. The story that unfolded
that day in a humble home in the hills of Judea has much to teach us
much about readiness, recognition, and relationship.
Unlike Zechariah, both Elizabeth and Mary were open to the sacred
unexpected. What might they have missed had they scoffed at the
possibilities or rejected God's promises?
As we examine our own lives, how receptive are we to God's plan for
us? In readiness, do we welcome such opportunities or do we find
excuses to avoid heeding God's call? What opportunities for
growth and renewal do we miss because we are not listening? Or
because we refuse to relinquish the illusion of control?
Their readiness changed forever the destinies of Elizabeth and
Mary. Might it change ours?
When the infant John stirred in Elizabeth's womb, it was a moment of
spontaneous recognition. God was truly present within Mary.
For her part, Mary recognized in Elizabeth's welcoming words the
truth she had at last embraced—she was to give birth to the Christ.
Perhaps you can recall a time in your life when you recognized, in the
moment, the power of God working within you. A time when a burden
was miraculously lifted from your shoulders, a time when someone came
along to say what you most needed to hear, or a moment when you were
nudged into a positive, life-altering change. It is in such times
of recognition that we meet our Lord.
Elizabeth and Mary's is also a story about relationship. Neither
woman undertook her awesome journey alone. Mary's visit to Judea
ended Elizabeth's isolation, and Elizabeth's recognition of her
cousin's God-given role melted away Mary's fears.
From our distant vantage point, it is easy to see God at work in their
relationship. Elizabeth, with her hospitality and sympathy,
offered Mary a sanctuary where she could come to terms with the angel's
promise. And with a tenderness born of love and mutual
understanding, Mary stood by Elizabeth through the final months of her
pregnancy. Their strong bond was possible because God was at the
center of their relationship.
Despite her initial fears, Mary's was not a solo journey. First
the angel, then Elizabeth, and ultimately Joseph— all affirmed her and
her mission—to bring forth the long-awaited Messiah..
Nor is ours a solitary journey. We yearn for the intimacy of
acceptance and affection and treasure friendships so deep that they
require no words. Just as Elizabeth was buoyed by the youthful
enthusiasm of Mary, so Mary depended upon the wisdom and strength of
the older woman.
To whom do you turn when life seems disappointing or challenging?
Who holds your hand? Sits quietly and listens? And in the
good times, who rejoices with you? Who reminds you that you are a
beloved child of God?
Such blessed relationships are God-given and life-restoring. When
we are open to them, as Mary and Elizabeth were, love quickens in us,
just as it did in them all those centuries ago.
“And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of
what was spoken to her by the Lord.” [Luke 1:45]
In our hearts this Advent, may we, like Mary, welcome the
God-within-us, the Emmanuel.
Amen.
Laura Shoffner
St. James' Episcopal Church
Eureka Springs. AR
December 20, 2009
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