Gloria Dei Lutheran Church

 

Luke 1: 39-45 (46-55)+Fourth Sunday of Advent+December 22, 2024+Gloria Dei Lutheran Church+Pastor Jodi Houge

Today we have the part of the Gospel story where pregnant Mary travels to visit her cousin Elizabeth, who is also pregnant. So much happens in their meeting. I imagine an immediate embrace of these women, and the babies leap for joy, Elizabeth blesses Mary and a song of praise pours out of Mary. She sings of a new world order where the hungry are fed and the low are lifted up and the children are blessed by the tender mercy of God. It’s what we want in the world and such good news. Unless, of course, you are rich or proud or in a seat of power. Then, well, this new world that Jesus is calling us to is going to upset your life. All of that in one little song from Mary. What a testimony of faith. Mary testifies as she sings. 

I do understand that if you dig around in the biblical commentaries, you are going to find some tension around whether or not this gorgeous song, fully formed, could pour forth out of the mouth of Mary. There is some skepticism whether this piece that we call the Magnificat, which we know is a top ten hit in the religious cannon, could spontaneously just flow out of Mary. 

A couple thoughts about that. First, spend time with songwriters or artists who are in their flow and they will tell you it’s rare, but it does happen. Sometimes, whole pieces arrive like a download.
 
Secondly, of all the impossible things in this story, we are having trouble with Mary’s songwriting ability? Elizabeth is way too old to pregnant but she is, and Elizabeth’s husband didn’t talk for 5 months. Not to mention Mary is a virgin and she’s carrying God’s son. This story is filled with things that are hard to believe. 

Given all that, maybe we can just give Mary this one. 

But even if these words were written later by the author of Luke’s Gospel, well good on him. Because he gave full songwriting credit to Mary and left his name out of the liner notes. 

So I’m thinking about the role of singing in the Christian church. It’s paramount. And for Lutheran Christians, I mean, we do love to sing, don’t we?

About a dozen years ago, in my role as a church planter here in St Paul, we tried something new. We gathered for the first time at Shamrock’s Pub to hold our first Beer and Hymns which is just that: hymn singing in a place that serves beer and food. And just before we started singing, I could feel the energy in the room. It was anxiety and excitement. It felt like maybe we were being a tiny bit naughty. I think we actually started a few minutes early because we couldn’t handle the tension any longer. Because we were doing a very churchy thing in a bar. And it was all brand new. And what if it was a train wreck?

But then the first guitar chord was struck and we sang the first line of the first hymn and it moved me to tears. And by the end of that hymn, I knew this is how I hope I get to leave this world. With some rowdy hymn singing with people who can sing parts and preferably that hymn would be Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing but I’m trying not to be too controlly. 

Think about the songs.

I’ve long thought that it is the singing that carries faith for me. The words of songs and hymns help me remember what God has done in Christ Jesus. If hope feels out of reach, singing can often bring us around. 

A campfire ring full of campers singing at full volume at Camp Wapo and every other bible camp  across the country will do this.

The song you put on repeat in your car that offers you want you need. 

Sometimes music tends us while we are suffering.

It’s moments like the one Advent one of my parishioners was laid so low with depression that she was in the hospital on suicide watch. She loves Holden Evening Prayer service, so a small group of us gathered by her bed and sang it together

I do know I am literally preaching to the choir this morning. Our lives here at Gloria Dei are an embarrassment of musical riches. Last Sunday alone has us gathered for Advent worship, the Christmas pageant and later for Lessons and Carols. I’m guessing if you were here for one or all three, you have a moment that moved you. I’d like to highlight the musical prelude before the pageant, when an entire church full of people leaned forward to hear our youngest musicians play a piece on the piano, violin, trumpet. From my spot in the way, way standing room only back of the church, I think it was about the time that the clarinet duet started that I breathed in deeply the goodness of God. 

On Tuesday, the staff of Gloria Dei did a little caroling around the city. It struck me that all these beloved carols we sing at Christmas time come around like old friends, well-worn and sturdy enough to hold our exuberant joy, our insurmountable grief and our memories. Even if your year as the Grinch sings, Stink, Stank, Stunk there is a song for you.

The other thing I’d like us to notice in today’s Gospel is just how far Mary goes to see Elizabeth. She walked about 80 miles, up into the hill country. While pregnant. We love to paint and imagine Mary as meek and mild but like those Christmas songs, she is sturdy. If she lived here now in 2024, she’d be a winter bike commuter. Mary is also likely motivated by her life circumstances, pregnant and unmarried. Women could be punished severely for this—and so Mary disappears. Can you imagine the joy in her arrival at Elizabeth’s—a moment of holy leaping babies. And Mary is immediately rewarded for her bold journey with Elizabeth offering her a blessing.  

Mary went a long way to find kinship, friendship and blessing. How far would you go?

I’ve been swimming at Jimmy Lee Rec Center here in St Paul for 20 years. And before and after swimming, I have chatted with one particular woman for almost as long. Last week, I saw her there and we quickly picked up our conversation. She said I don’t think I’ve seen you since before Covid. That’s too long. And I sheepishly said, “Well, during Covid I bought a Peloton bike so I’ve been doing that in my basement…” to which she interrupted me with BORING. Which is why I love her. “You don’t get us in your basement.” You are right. There is no way I would have come back on my own. But a friend texted and said, I miss you at the pool. Meet there on Friday morning.

I keep having the same conversation with some of you here at Gloria Dei. There are people you were connected with that you haven’t seen since Covid and you miss them. Some of you had a whole little group and find yourself as the only one remaining here with a church connection. Mary highlights what we already know. We need one another. Friends who can relate to what is happening in our lives. Who will embrace us, no matter our life circumstances. Christmas is too loaded. So wait until January and then send those texts. Tell them you are saving them a seat. And if they are not ready or interested, then seek out other people who are here.

Mary the mother of God is able to sing this gorgeous song that we call the Magnificat because she knows. She knows the stories of faith. And she knows the Magnificat is valid for every woman birthing and raising a child under threat of war, violence, occupation and fear. Her testimony that the child she is carrying will do all of these things is based on previous experiences with God. 

Her joy is found in remembering what the world can be based on the presence of God. Mary knows the stories. The stories where God has already shown strength, scattered the proud, lifted the lowly, fed the hungry. Which means a weary world can rejoice and remember together. We can rest knowing God is faithful and will continue to be about these things. God is God of this moment and the next. 

Which is why every time something horrible happens in the world, every time something wonderful happens in the world. Every time something mundane happens in the world, we gather the following Sunday to sing, and to pray and to break bread and to remember that the God of mercy remains.

Finally, what a pregnancy scene tells us is that ready or not, the baby is coming. Tomorrow morning, this Advent blue will be packed away as we turn our faces toward Christmas. And that is going to happen whether or not you had time to make cookies or not. Or clean your house or buy any presents. The baby is coming even if you haven’t had the energy to put up a tree. Even if your family is a mess and your brothers aren’t speaking. If you are overwhelmed by grief or drowning in fear. Maybe you are on the naughty list or lacking in Christmas spirit or so excited you can hardly contain yourself. You might find yourself alone and you don’t want to be or maybe you are it’s a glorious rest. 

The pregnancy of Mary means into all of this, into every single life, love is arriving. Inevitable, unstoppable, ineffably sublime. Into rowdy nights and silent nights, into all of it, love is come.