The Mighty From Their Thrones
John Wilkinson Third
Presbyterian Church
December 18, 2005
Luke 1:46-55
We are mindful that many of us will be elsewhere a week from
now, celebrating Christmas with loved ones in far away places.
If that is the case, a prayer now for a blessed and joyful Christmas,
wherever you may be. Please do take note of the Christmas Eve,
Christmas Day and yes, New Year’s Day schedules. Join
us, as you are able. Merry Christmas and a blessed 2006 to you
all.
***
We know the story well, perhaps too well. Allow me a summary:
an angel visits a young woman named Mary, who is engaged to
Joseph. “Do not be afraid,” the angel says. Not
likely, though that is perhaps the central biblical vision,
then and now – do not be afraid. The angel tells Mary
that she will conceive and bear a son. Mary wonders how this
can be. The angel explains the powerful workings of God, and
Mary accepts the news. The angel tells Mary that her relative
Elizabeth is also expecting. Mary visits her and Elizabeth offers
a blessing. There is so much to say, but for now, let us simply
hear Mary’s words, Mary’s song, which we have come
to call over the centuries the “Magnificat.”
46 “And Mary said, ‘My soul magnifies the
Lord, 47 and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, 48 for he
has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely,
from now on all generations will call me blessed; 49 for the
Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.
50 His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation.
51 He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the
proud in the thoughts of their hearts. 52 He has brought down
the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; 53
he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich
away empty. 54 He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance
of his mercy, 55 according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants for ever.’”
This is the Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.
***
We cannot allow the eloquence of the poetry to belay the message.
We cannot allow the beauty of artistic expression – from
painters and sculptors to poets and hymn writers to the great
Bach himself – to misdirect us from the truth of the gospel.
Rather, we must use the truth-telling ability of the artist
to draw us ever closer to the truth of the gospel.
I am always reluctant to criticize cultural accommodations
to the season – who knows what positive effect watching
“It’s a Wonderful Life” for the hundredth
time might have. It is the most wonderful time of the year.
At the same time, it is a challenging time, and we cannot allow
shallow sentimentality to crowd out true sentiment.
An angel shows up and delivers some very perplexing news.
Mary receives it first with silence, then with acceptance. Later,
when sharing it with Elizabeth, she delivers what some have
called the “Christian Manifesto,” and we cannot
miss its magnificent, radical truth.
Anglican priest Graham Dowell writes that “The beauty
of the Birth-Narrative has overlaid the starkness of the message:
The medium of the message is an unmarried mother, a disadvantaged,
second-class citizen…The scandal at the end of the story,
a criminal's death, is reflected in the scandal at the beginning…Like
the Beatitudes, it looks for a radical overturning of the world's
priorities…Happiness and fulfillment are not to be measured
by success, nor is power by status, privilege and social acceptance.”
To hear the words, carefully, openly, honestly, is to encounter
a vision that turns inside out the manner in which the world
carries out its business. The poorer we are, poor of spirit
and poor of every other kind of resource, the more open we would
be to Mary’s song.
It is a paradox of our faith in this Christmas time. The weak
are strong. The poor are rich. The powerless are most powerful.
Mary stands in a long prophetic line as she delivers those
words, as she reminds all those who would hear that this God
of whom she sings is the God – deposuit potentes de sede
– who brings down the powerful and mighty from their thrones.
It will be most clear a week from today, when angels and shepherds
and wise men gather to worship a weak, tiny, helpless little
baby. But there are intimations all around, intimations of justice
and peace and righteousness. Out of oppression Mary sings a
prayer of hope. Into an uncertain future Mary sings a prayer
of gratitude. And not just for herself, or even for the baby
she is carrying, but for all the people and for all the future.
Hymn writer Fred Kaan insists that we are all called “to
sing and live Magnificat…” Even when all evidence
points to the contrary, we are called to sing this song, to
join our still, small voices with countless others. Even in
the darkness, we are called to light a candle, a single, solitary
candle whose warmth and illumination will join with so many
others. Even in the bleak midwinter, we gather in this place,
and in places like it, to hear the old, old story again as if
for the first time, and by so hearing, take it into all the
world.
Of the message Mary receives, and shares, Kathleen Norris
writes: “It is not robed in majesty. It does not assert
itself with the raw power of empire…but it waits in puzzlement,
it hesitates. Coming from…a place of little hope, it reveals
the ordinary circumstances of my life to be full of mystery,
and gospel…” (Amazing Grace, page 31)
That is the Magnificat we hear and sing, and that is the Magnificat,
with Mary, we are called to live. Amen.
