Before we read our story, I want to remind you that it is unusual in many ways, not the least of which is that it features two women, front and center, who actually get both names and voices. This is not common in scripture. Mary and Martha are the only ones who come to mind in the New Testament, and they don’t actually have a conversation with one another, only with Jesus. So the fact that Mary and Elizabeth are the only people in the scene is significant—well, two others are present, one of whom is active, but they’re both still in utero.
Not only do we have two women dominating the scene, but they talk about womanly things. One commentary says, “Normally speaking, matters having to do with the womb are not talked about in public. This is women’s talk and it is usually kept carefully within the private circle. . . . The fact that Luke reports such female conversation here suggests that he considers the reader a family insider.”[1]
So perhaps we can best understand this story if we think of ourselves, “not as distant outsiders, but as invited and welcomed extended family into a blessed conversation.”[2] So depending on your age, Elizabeth may be your cousin or your aunt. Mary may be your niece.
In the verses right before our portion today, Mary has her visit from an angel. He brings her the news that she will give birth to a son, the Messiah. Mary, of course, replies, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” Now, I don’t want us to get caught up in that part. Some of us believe in the virgin birth, believe that Mary became pregnant through divine action rather than human. Others of us see a young woman who got pregnant before she was “supposed to,” and God brought something miraculous out of it. Others wonder if, in a time and place where the oppressing army sometimes expressed its control through rape, if a more sinister cause is possible. Still others don’t think it matters at all because they believe the story is unlikely to be historical, given that miraculous conceptions and births are fairly common in religious and mythological literature. Regardless of how you view this story—as central to your faith or a symptom of your doubt, as historical or hysterical or something in between—I invite you this morning to put all that aside and just listen to the story and see what it has to say to us today.
Please join me in the Prayer for Illumination: Open our hearts and minds, O Lord, by the gift of your Holy Spirit, so that as the Word is read and proclaimed, we may hear what you have to say to us today. Amen.
Luke 1:39-55. It starts with our niece, Mary.
In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.” And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.” And Mary remained with her about three months and then returned to her home.
The story doesn’t tell us what happened between verse 38, when the angel departs from Mary, and verse 39, when “In those days, Mary set out and went with haste” to see Elizabeth. We don’t know who she told, and we don’t know their reaction. We don’t know if her parents believed her, or if they suspected Joseph or someone else to be the father. We don’t know if they blamed her or shamed her. We know them, as our relatives, and we know them to be strict. Or we know them to be kind, but of course it would be hard to believe her story. We don’t know if her parents told the rabbi, or if she told her friends, and they told their mothers. We do know, or can certainly speculate, that once the news was out, it would be the talk of the town. This would be no small scandal. (And for you Thursday night TV fans, she didn’t have Olivia Pope to spin it for her.) So many people would be disappointed in her. So many people would judge her.
I wonder if this is why she went “with haste”—to escape the rumors, the gossip, the sidelong glances and the open stares. Or maybe she and her parents weren’t going to tell anyone until they had no choice, until her condition began to show. Either way, “In those days, Mary set out and went with haste.” In those days of not being believed. In those days of shame and judgment. In those days of fear and anxiety about what was to come. In those days.
We know about those days. We have lived in those days. Those days of rumors and gossip, when others think they know our truth. Those days of judgment, from people who know nothing about our circumstances. Those days of worry, when we don’t know what is to come. Those days of fear, when we do. Those days when we feel alone and betrayed. Those days when we feel ashamed, either rightfully so, or wrongfully blamed. Those days. We know about those days. It was in those days that our niece Mary went to visit our cousin Elizabeth.
We don’t know for sure why. The angel didn’t tell her to go. Her parents weren’t sending her away to hide her pregnancy, since she returned after three months. Was she going because she thought Elizabeth would understand, since Elizabeth was also experiencing a miraculous conception? Was she afraid? Was she worried about how Elizabeth would respond? After all, Mary knew about Elizabeth’s pregnancy, but we don’t know if Elizabeth knew about Mary’s. Some scholars believe that it was John’s leap of joy within her that told her the news.
If Mary was worried, she needn’t have been. Elizabeth greeted her with blessing. Lots of it. Blessed are you among women. Blessed is the fruit of your womb. Blessed is she who believed. Blessed. What a relief that must have been. What a balm to her spirit. No judgment, no question, not even any “are you sure?” Just blessing. And Elizabeth didn’t whisper it, either. She used her “outside voice,” so that anyone—everyone—could hear. Blessed are you!
It makes me wonder . . . who needs a blessing from us? Who is living in those days? Who is living in those days of judgment, from people who know nothing about their circumstances? Who is living in those days of worry, when they don’t know what is to come. Or those days of fear, when they do. Who is living in those days when they feel alone and betrayed? Maybe they are living in those days through no fault of their own, and maybe they are living in those days because of their own bad choices. It doesn’t matter which one; they need a blessing. Maybe they are living in those days because of their grief, which is so new and fresh they can hardly speak, or so old and still so painful it has turned into rage. It doesn’t matter which one; they need a blessing. Maybe they are living in those days because of their own fearfulness, and maybe because others are afraid of their religion or ethnicity. It doesn’t matter which one; they need a blessing. They need to be welcomed. They need the shelter of merciful arms.
“We need more Elizabeths in the world. We need more people willing to move past judgment and shaming, and offer God’s blessing. We need people who look upon the world and see God’s redeeming hand at work, not just see the worst in other people and ourselves.”[3] We need more blessings in the world. And it is our job to give them.
On Thursday the first batch of Syrian refugees was welcomed into Canada. And I do mean welcomed. Before they arrived, the Prime Minister of Canada spoke to his staff and volunteers who were waiting to process the refugees. He said to them, “This is a wonderful night, where we get to show not just a planeload of new Canadians what Canada is all about; we get to show the world how to open our hearts and welcome in people who are fleeing extraordinarily difficult situations.” And then he personally greeted the refugees at the airport. He gave them coats and he said to them, “You are home.”[4] What a relief that must have been. What a balm to their spirits. No judgment, just blessing.
In our story of Elizabeth and Mary, Elizabeth greeted Mary with blessing at least in part because of the baby leaping within her. “We need to feel that call to bless deep within ourselves, like a child leaping within us. For, if there were more Elizabeths in the world doing that holy work, there just might be more people breaking out into holy song like Mary.”[5]
In his paraphrase of the Bible, Eugene Peterson offers a wonderful take on Mary’s response. Instead of “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,” in The Message Mary says, “I’m bursting with God-news; I’m dancing the song of my Savior God.”
But the God-news is not just for Mary. The words that Mary sings are not individual; they are communal. The song carries Luke’s trademark “reversal of fortunes”—God scattered the proud. God brought down the powerful and lifted up the lowly. God filled the hungry with good things. This is both the source and the outcome of the blessing. We lift up the lowly. We fill the hungry with good things. To those hungry in body we give good, nutritious food. To those hungry in spirit we give good, delicious grace. To all we give shelter, the shelter of merciful arms.
In some ways there is a lack of shelter to our story. There is “a sense of away to the story. Mary has travelled to reach Elizabeth’s home, and the reading concludes when Mary ‘then returned to her home.’ But we know that she doesn’t stay there. Home for a few months, then off to Bethlehem on another journey. And then off again, to Egypt. No nesting for Mary. No nursery to paint. Mary’s homes are temporary, though her rootedness is secure. Which [in hard times] is comfort. Our rootedness is secure. Our home is beyond whatever walls that shelter us.”[6]
Our shelter is in merciful arms. This is good news for refugees. This is good news for those of us living in those days. This is good news for us all. Thanks be to God.
[1] Malina and Rohrbaugh, as quoted by David Ewart, www.holytextures.com
[2] Ibid.
[3] www.rickmorley.com/archives/2154.
[4] http://www.indiatimes.com/news/world/you-are-home-canadian-prime-minister-justin-trudeau-tells-syrian-refugees-at-toronto-248318.html
[5] www.rickmorley.com/archives/2154
[6] Munnik, Katie. In The Messy Table, December 17, 2012.