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12-20-09
Text: Luke 1:1-55 ● Although the lectionary readings for this season direct us toward Luke’s gospel, it’s always hard to resist the opportunity to talk about the ‘Magnificat’ (Latin for ‘magnify’): this joy-filled outburst by Mary which puts God on display; which celebrates that something bigger, something ‘other’ is going on.
● Immediately, we are struck with Luke’s determination to present the story
of Jesus’ birth, life, death and resurrection in as orderly and accurate
means as possible. He describes the purpose of his writing and his desire:
“… so that you may know the certainty
of the things you have been taught” (Luke 1:4).
● Luke says, “Listen, there are all
sorts of stories circulating around out there about Jesus and what all this
really means. I’ve done my homework: I’ve reviewed the reports as they have
been preserved for us, I’ve interviewed eye-witnesses, I’ve considered them
in light of our story and I’ve concluded that God was up to something in
Jesus”.
● Then, he almost immediately sabotages the “scholarly nature” of his work
by introducing us to ‘angels’ and ‘virgins having babies’. I think you would
agree that this sounds like something better suited for the cover of
“US Weekly”, than a serious,
scholarly presentation [next to something about
Brad and Jennifer’s love reunion
or
Oprah now weighing 400 lbs.
“The virgin says: ‘I’m having God’s
baby’!”]
● Yeah, you should laugh. I love that my faith seems, at times, so bizarre,
so incomprehensible; so ‘beyond me’, so ‘transcendent’.
At times, the story leaves me
feeling so foolish for having believed and, at times, feeling so regretful
for having doubted!
● Admittedly, there’s a huge chunk of what I have chosen to believe that I
don’t fully understand and which will forever remain hidden from me, not
because it hasn’t been revealed, but because I just won’t get it.
And, it’s not, I think, that I’m so desperate that I’m willing to believe
anything, but that in being willing to believe, I open myself to the
possibility of experiencing something else; something transcendent;
something that’s beyond my capacity to explain.
● After (4) centuries of silence, when God does finally speak, what will he
say to his people? After all, he’s had plenty of time to think about this;
plenty of time to brood over his disappointment and frustration with his
faithless people.
Instead, the messenger of God breaks
the silence and says, “Don’t be
afraid. It’s time. All that you have longed for, all that you have been
waiting for is about to be fulfilled, right before your eyes.”
● Zechariah appears to be the first to hear. Zechariah, a ‘devout man’
(observant Jew); a religious leader. Let’s start with him… he’ll be anxious
to believe, huh?
I appreciate the fact that Luke does not make Zechariah out to be a hero.
Instead, he portrays him as one limited by unbelief; as one who desperately
wants to believe, but needs something more to go on.
● The angel says, “Okay, Zechariah,
here’s your sign: No talking. Only charades” [imagine trying to explain
that encounter with only hand signals and facial expressions]. This is the
ultimate curse for those of us who despise party games!
►You get the feeling that, sometimes, God has to break through our routine
and our well-established faith-practices in order to come to us again.
He has to overcome everything that prevents us from hearing the story. He
has to confront a faith that has come to
‘know what to expect from God’
in order that we might be open to new word, a fresh act, a new way of
experiencing God.
● The next word out of the silence comes not to Jerusalem- the center of
faith, but to Nazareth: the common folk, you might say. This time, not to a
priest, but to a naïve peasant girl named Mary.
Mary questions too, but not as demands for more proof. Her inquiry concerns
the ‘means’. She doesn’t doubt the angel’s message, she just can’t figure
out how God’s going to do it.
►Notice that the story does not ignore the fears, concerns, hopes and
challenges of ordinary people.
We realize how this story-line will run right through our humanity:
the pain, the frustration, the fatigue.
● Mary admits she doesn’t understand, but that’s never stopped God before!
She refuses to allow the limitations of her understanding to prevent her
from experiencing the favor (grace) of God in her life.
Mary knew that if this were true, she would never be the same. The world
would never be the same.
● Before Mary even gets sufficiently ‘warmed up’, one thing becomes
apparent: this girl knows her story;
she’s aware of her origins. It was this story that has ordered her life
and fixed her hope.
Contrary to what we might have supposed, Mary is not offering us some
“impromptu” lyrics, but a song which rehearsed a story which had been
inspiring song-writers, prophets and poets for some time. She reconstructs
Hannah’s prayer from some 1,000 years prior and makes it her own. She
rehearses it, not merely as some historic event, but as part of an unfolding
story of which she is an integral part.
Without the story, what were Mary and
Elizabeth to make of these angelic declarations?
Without the story, how are we
to account for all of those God-moments in our lives; all of those times
when we have become aware that God was present and speaking; that he has
been at work in and among us?
►Their story always offered a continuity of themes: God’s past faithfulness
as well as the possibilities of a renewed future.
They envisioned God finally fulfilling what he had promised to their
ancestors, Abraham and Sarah: that he would favor the whole world through
them; that something of cosmic significance would take place which would
reverse the disorder caused by evil and set the creation back in place… back
where it belongs: rightly-related to its Creator and each other.
● Mary’s song is not just a song about the
reversal of power and fortunes,
that wouldn’t solve anything. It’s about a vision of a world where such
power struggles no longer exist; where the rich and poor envision themselves
in the same “saving story”. A world in which we are actually transformed
into the kind of humans we were always meant to be.
►Stories like this always seem to “find us”, don’t they?
Although we often think we are, we are never the initiators when it comes to
our relationship with God. God speaks. He addresses us in stories, in
people, in heart-impressions, in whispers, and even though we are often
unaware of this movement, we are simply responding to the advances of God
toward us.
Advent reminds us that…
►We were never meant to feel so uncomfortable in the world of mystery.
Earth was meant to be filled with the Divine. Our space and God’s
space were never meant to be distinct.
There is something incredibly natural at work in Advent. A real baby, a real
gestation period; a real delivery out of a real womb.
But, there’s also something
unmistakably mysterious (super-natural) which cannot be ignored due to our
inability to explain or control it.
N.T. Wright says, “Mary is the
supreme example of what always happens when God is at work by grace through
human beings. God’s power from the outside (coming upon us), and the
indwelling spirit within, together result in things being done which would
have been unthinkable any other way”.
● We are indebted to the artists: the song-writers, the poets, the painters,
the sculptors, who have historically rescued us from a cold and calculating
approach to Advent. They have awakened our imaginations and penetrated
beyond the cerebral to invite us into the unreasonable and illogical works
of God.
● It’s why Mary sang. It’s why people danced and waxed poetic: in order to
display their joy; in order to celebrate a moment which could never be
captured by rationale and scholarship.
►It also reminds us of how unsuspectingly we have arrived at a faith that’s
predictable, and frankly, uninspiring.
Thankfully, Advent comes along and undermines a faith like that. It
offers us these ‘larger-than-life’ stories and reminds us that our posture
is not to rationalize or explain, but simply to
“glory in God our Savior”. |
