You can't miss the trembling excitement, the rushing urgency, the sheer joy of this episode. Mary hurries to Elizabeth's house to share the news and Elizabeth blesses her at first sight. The baby flipped inside her. Whee! And then Mary bursts into song—a famous song called the Magnificat.
The virgin's house is said to be standing to this day outside the ancient city of Ephesus in Turkey. It is a place of pilgrimage for Christians and Muslims, who revere her as a model of faith. She is mentioned more than thirty times in the holy book of Islam, and is the only woman to have a chapter named after her. Those who have visited are impressed with the atmosphere of peace and tolerance that exists at Mary's house—a striking contrast to the horrific violence occurring in some parts of the Middle East. Perhaps her presence long ago has left its mark—or at least the spirit of justice she stands for has. Can it be that in the conflict of cultures that our world faces today, this Middle Eastern woman of long ago can serve as a bridge to understanding?
Now look at the power of esteem that this brings to Mary. All generations will call me blessed. In a time and place where women hardly had voice, were hardly permitted to whisper, she sings out loud. In a culture where a woman's life was pretty much pre-ordained, she dares to dream impossible dreams. What happened? She met God. She was a young woman, not rich, not poor, not prominent, but ready for whatever God might send her way. Now think of yourself: what could possibly happen to you that you would say out loud, All generations shall call me blessed. She's not shy. "People for the rest of time will have my name on their lips and they will be in awe at how much God favored me. I get to be Jesus' mom." Most of us might hope to be remembered for a while by those who were closest to us on earth—but to be honored and revered by the human race for the rest of time? That seems a bit of a stretch. But that's what Mary thought. And so far, she's been right. Wherever this gospel is known, wherever this passage is shared, Mary's prophecy comes true again. It's not every person—but at least some people in all times have given thanks for the life and witness of this young woman. Some protestant reformers went overboard in getting rid of every vestige of honor to Mary—they didn't want veneration of her to obscure the worship due her son. But now we can join the generations in singing her praises, just as the Bible foretells. Indeed, she is an example of sheer grace—God's unmerited favor.
Her only "achievement" to commend her for this great honor is readiness to be part of God's work. Her uncomplicated Yes to God opened a new world to her and to us all. Long before the Beatles composed the beautiful lyrics for "Let It Be," Mary herself said, "Let it be unto me according to your word."
Of all the prayers we pray, I wonder how often we sincerely utter that plea. Put me to use, Lord. Teach me to accept your will. Let it be.
Mary was faithful and trusting, but that does not mean she was passive. If we look carefully at her song, we begin to see what a revolutionary young Mary truly is. She tells of rulers being overthrown, the poor empowered, the powerful oppressors gotten rid of. These were dangerous sentiments in that time and place—as they have been for most of history. No one in power wants to hear about the day when they will be out of power. Those with a vested in the way things are, take exception to alternative visions of how things might be. Yet the young woman, inspired we believe by the Spirit of God, gives voice to the vision.
We might question how and when this different way of life will come to pass. Just last week Gen. Pinochet of Chile died in relative peace at the age of 90 something—far better than what such a brutal dictator could have hoped for. There were riots in the streets of Santiago, by thousands of people angry that he had lived to a ripe old age and died of natural causes. He was never brought to justice. His victims cry out for it, but they will not get it. Mary's Magnificat compels us all the more to declare the righteousness of God, to stand against all abuse of power, every miscarriage of justice, each instance of torture no matter who employs it or to what end. Whenever people can be swept up and held against their will without charge and without trial, there liberty has been lost, and freedom fails.
A song currently popular on the radio is called, "Waiting on the World to Change."
It's a great song—but I wonder about the premise. Mary's hope, if it is to be fulfilled, depends on God, and on people who are willing to stand with God against seemingly impossible odds. Waiting has its place—but so does action.
Harvey Cox, the great sociologist of religion, tells of another Mary in the favelas of Sao Paulo Brazil. Her name is Maria, and she like millions of others, had little hope of any sort of productive life. But through the ministry of a storefront church of the Pentecostal variety, she received Jesus Christ into her life, and she became empowered. She it turns out, had quite a gift for getting people organized, and she began to gather and inspire her church and community to work for constructive change. They started to clean up the neighborhood, running out the drug dealers, demanding basic services from the authorities—police, lights, schools, water, decent roads--fostering small businesses. Maria seemed to be a driving force behind much of it—and her effectiveness could be traced back to her personal encounter with and commitment to Jesus Christ. Religion at its best can do that: it gives people the sense of their own worth, and that life can be different because of God. We know that people's faith has often been manipulated in order to keep them down—women, minorities, the poor—but the faith of Mary, which is Christ-centered, is empowering, equipping, life-enhancing. It was more than just waiting on the world to change. It was acting on the promise of God. Where some say, we can't, Mary says, Yes I can, because I have a living savior.
Well, Mary got ready in her heart and life for that very first Christmas. It had nothing to do with presents and gift cards and food. It had everything to do with the right attitude: saying yes to God, receiving God's will, acting on the vision. "I am the Lord's servant." That's what she said. And because she said it, and believed it, and lived it, Jesus found a way into human life.
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