Scripture: Luke 1:39-45
Second Week of Advent, 2018
She could not wait to get away. For she knew the life journey upon which she was now about to embark. A journey that would include all the regular things that a woman experiences on the path to motherhood. Those joyous moments of baby kicking and rolling over, of having dreams about his future, of knitting little outfits for him to first wear. Those less than joyous moments that come with the reality of gestation. The morning sickness that seems to go on all day. The swollen ankles that prevent one from slipping even her loosest sandals on her feet. The fears that come with growing a baby inside of you—will he be able to see? Hear? Speak? Will he have ten fingers and ten toes? But for her, there was an added stress to pregnancy. For her, from the moment she knew that she was with child she also knew that he was bound for regal greatness. That he would be the messiah for which the Jewish faith had been longing seemingly forever. Because of the nature of conception, the lack of a man to whom she had been unified before God and the world, she knew there would also be the sideway glances whenever she passed, the growing little one inside of her becoming more and more difficult to hide no matter how many layers of dress she tried to place over her ever expanding belly. And in the back of her mind she must have knows that somewhere in her tight little community of Nazareth words of gossip and vitriol were whispered about her in secret as the chattier folk about town would try and guess who the mystery suitor must have been. Knowing all this, the time between the angel's appearance with his glad tidings of great joy and her departure for her cousin’s house simply flew by. And with each step that she drew closer to Elizabeth’s house, a blissful and calming peace surrounded the whole of her being. She was miles away from her house, yet Mary was going home.
Each year about this time we, too, come together to share in this journey we call Advent. And in the midst of what we collectively call “The Christmas Season” maybe it is that worshipping together for these Sundays, these moments, provides the necessary break from the hustle and bustle of this most wonderful of time of year that we find rest in our true home. In these weeks in which many try to find a special gift for the one they love, for their kids, for their friends. In these times in which many move from celebration to celebration, in these times in which we long for the magic that so many of us felt when we were kids, maybe it’s good for us to be able to gather in this place and just stop moving for a few minutes. To say a prayer, to sing old hymns that we seemingly have known since before our birth, to just breathe and know that God is good and God is still appearing, God is still being birthed in our midst even in this time, even in this place. Maybe it is this time spent in stillness that calls us back to our true home. Of course we would, too, be remiss if we did not acknowledge that for some, this journey to the manger is not the most joyous of times. Whether plagued by loss or loneliness, haunted by memories of seasons past in which loved ones were still present, or simply overcome by the pressure to make each holiday moment special, many struggle to find joy in this season. And so it is that the church, that this worshipping community is also here for them as well. We are both a respite from the fast paced sprint to get to December 25th, but also a shelter in the storm for those who find that the realities of life leave them feeling depleted and sad. We call all the children to come and rest in the present moment, in the presence of God, who is forever and always our true home. And as we are journeying during this Advent season and especially walking with Mary, as we are trying to place ourselves within her mind and experience the range of emotions that comes, really with anyone who is creating a new life within her womb, but especially when you know that the new life you are creating is the life of the only begotten child of God, those emotions take on an intensity, and probably a surreality that few if any can fully comprehend. And so, just as we return to this place once a week during this time to recharge and to reground ourselves for our own journey to look for a future in our true home, so we follow Mary to the doorsteps of her cousin Elizabeth’s home and see the safety and security, the reassurance, that she provides for Mary even in the midst of her own time of co-creation with God.
Babies are funny little creatures. From the moment they are able to begin to interact with their little worlds within their mothers’ wombs, they seem to develop their own personalities which they begin to give evidence to even very early on in utero. With my two older boys, this experience could not have been anymore night and day. I know that it is hard to believe these days, but Seamus, for his part, was an incredibly relaxed baby, even before he was born. In fact, the number one response when I would call or text my wife while she was pregnant with him and inquire as to how he was, was “mellow.” Very little could faze this kid. We just called it Seamusy. Jameson was, for his part, during his nine months in the womb, was completely different. He wanted what he wanted and he wanted it now. And if he was unhappy, he was quick to let his mother know. I cannot tell you the number of trips to the Wendy’s that was just down the road from our apartment in Blacksburg that I made well into the night to get that unborn baby a baked potato with sour cream, no chives. No Chives. The number of times I went back to Wendy’s after the foolish workers believed it was sufficient to simply dust off the offending garnish from the potato was not small, either. But perhaps that most amazing thing about Jameson’s personality in utero was his response to the sounds of men’s voices that were not mine. My wife, at the time of her pregnancy was a graduate student at Virginia Tech and her doctoral advisor is a man with a deep professorial voice and as I understand it, towards the 6th month or so of her pregnancy, when she was in class and during his lectures, the other students would marvel at the flips and flops that Jameson would do, visible just under the surface of my wife’s belly as he heard her professor speak. This became an even larger problem when she would come to my little student apartment across the state in Richmond where I was a student because she was an avid NPR listener and the voice of Steve Inskeep on Morning Edition would drive my son wild and he would be doing loop-de-loops the whole way there. The jury is still out on Asa.
I mention this because every time I read this story from the gospel of Luke that we have before us this morning, I think back to that time in which my wife was busily creating my son and he couldn't keep his excitement about being birthed into the world, nor his displeasure when his environment did not meet his expectations for how a womb should be, contained. In our scripture for today, we are told that soon after receiving the miraculous message from the Angel Gabriel, Mary made her way to her cousin Elizabeth’s house. As we know, her cousin found herself in somewhat of a similar situation to the one in which Mary found herself. She, too, carried a baby of somewhat divine origin, though that is never fully explicated in the text. But one way or another, this baby that Elizabeth is carrying, who will later become John the Baptist, is a gift from God, a gift that neither of his parents knew quite how to handle. And so, if anyone could understand that predicament in which Mary found herself, it would be her cousin Elizabeth. And we are told that Mary got there as soon as she could. The scripture tells us that she departed “with haste.” And when she got there, the two gave one another greetings of mutual kinship and shared support, and we are told that the baby John, so full of the holy spirit, leapt in his mother’s womb. In fact, we are told that both mother and baby become filled with the Holy Spirit and as if almost from another spiritual dimension, Elizabeth, echoes the angel Gabriel, and declares, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.” And as much as we want to rightly venerate and honor Mary for being the one who brought the Christ child into the world, at this moment, she is still just, I would imagine, a scared little girl, trying to make peace with her situation, trying to make peace with the decidedly different direction her life has moved in, trying to make peace with the weight, the sense of duty, the sense of religious fervor and faith that must have been stirring in here and in that effort to find peace, it is to Elizabeth that she turns. And it is Elizabeth who both confirms her special, her elevated status among women, but also who offers her peace and respite and space. And she concludes with further confirmation. “The moment your greeting reached my ears, the child in my womb leaper for joy.” Mary, the bearer of the Christ-child, the bearer of our savior, is also the bearer of the experience of hope, of peace, of joy, of love. And it is our mission to continue the work that she began in her world and carry those experiences to a world sorely in need of them. To be light in darkness, hope and joy in the midst of despair, and the kind of love that binds that which has been broken and unites us all within the family of God.
We have entered the time in the season in which the pressure is growing to make the perfect purchase for the ones to whom we are closest in our lives. We want our children to experience the magic of the season complete with Santa coming down the chimney in the middle of the night and making all of their holiday wishes come true. Seemingly every commercial on television bears the message that you must get your spouse the perfect ring, or smart phone, or Mercedes(??), just as an aside if my wife woke up on Christmas morning and found that I had gotten her a surprise Mercedes with a large bow in the driveway, she would freak out. And not in the good way. But such is the pressure that is placed upon us during this season that we feel like we have failed if we do not experience that one singular moment of loving connection under the tree. Cars and video games and jewelry and technology and it strikes me how far we, as a people, have moved from a celebration of that night the God silently slipped into creation and altered the course of human history forever. Moreover, we have lost ownership of the holy day in which we mark the birth of the one who will save the world from itself. Because at it’s best, the celebration of the birth of Christ into this world calls us back to our own calling. It reminds us that on this day, as with everyday, the best thing that we can offer to a broken world is the opportunity to experience God’s love and peace in life-altering ways. We, as those who bear the gospel into the world, are called on, are blessed to be part of the reconciliation of the world back to God and no gift, no thing, no experience is more exhilarating than that. And Christmas gives us that much needed opportunity to recommit ourselves to being excited to share the gospel with a world that needs to know and believe that there is someone out there that cares about them. And so it is that we, like Mary, are the bearers of Christ, the bearers of hope of peace, of joy, of love.
We are told Paul’s letter to the church in Philippi that in Christ Jesus we can experience an inner peace, a peace that will guard our hearts and minds, a peace that surpasses all understanding. All understanding. A peace that John Holcomb will tell you moves us out of our heads and into our souls A peace that wraps our whole being in the light of Christ, in the peace of the Holy Spirit, in the love of God. A peace that allows us to stare into the deepest darkness, the most horrible things that people can do to one another and still find hope. A peace that brings us back to that singular, inexorable truth upon which all of time and space, indeed all the cosmos is founded, that we and they and all the world are the beloved children of God. A peace that brings us calm when all the world seems to be slowly spinning of into the chaos of violence and hatred and pain. A peace that slowly, quietly, patiently, continuously reassures us that we remain intimately connected with the Divine, the whole of the universe, and all humanity in a web of love out of which we were created and to which we shall one day return. And it is good. It is good news. It is the gospel. But it cannot remain simply inside of you. It cannot remain inside of you because it is simply too wonderful to keep to yourself.
And so, as we undertake this journey together, this journey that ends at a lowly manger, in an otherwise nondescript town in central Israel—where animals grazed and a poor young woman gave birth to her first born child, where she wrapped him in ripped cloths because she didn't even have a blanket for him—let’s all remember that out of this darkness came one who would bear light for the world and who calls us to bear to bear that same light for the world today—a light that pierces through all the darkness, all the cynicism, all the despondency and lamentation and pain, a light that fills in every crack and crevice until all anyone can see is light, a light that shines in the darkness that the darkness is never, ever able to overcome. And let’s love, expecting that in our love Jesus is made real in our lives and the lives of others. Let’s love, waiting for the fruits of our love to come to harvest even though we know that we may never actually see that day. Let’s love, hoping that the power of love can and does emerge as the most powerful force on earth, ending war and reaching out to people who need to know that someone, somewhere cares. Let’s love, and let love be our prayer to God, and for the world, knowing that it is in prayer that we connect with God and it is with love that we connect with one another. One single chain, one single being, one cosmos, one love for all people. Let’s love one another as we allow this place and this time be our temporary home. And let’s love until that good and glorious day when all God’s children are called back to God and we take our places at the table of Christ and we take our rest in our new home. Our true home. As the angels said to the shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night all those many moons ago, Glory be to God in the highest and on earth peace amongst all God’s peoples, Alleluia, Amen.
*-Image: The Visitation, Phillipe de Champaigne (1643-1648)