Advent 4B

 Obedience, courage, and defiance.

 

One of my favorite games to play in the car is one in which I offer a word, and one of my kids responds with the first word that comes to mind. In fact, we played last night. “Mary”, I offered; “Christmas”, Peter replied; “presents”, I shot back; “Christmas tree” came next; then woods, wolves, wild, animals…so on and so forth. 

 

It is always fascinating to me what comes to mind. I say “Church”; Peter says, “Saint Clement’s”; I picture our pine and respond with “tree”; Peter adds a “forest”…

 

And, I find myself thinking of the cathedral of trees of John Muir and the redwoods. I consider the sacred we have found outside of our beloved church building and the yearning we share for a return. 

 

And, I think of the hope. The hope that has accompanied us through Advent and brought us here. To the now of Mary and her words. Words enriched by the lectionaries pairing…annunciation and magnificat

 

A courageous “yes” and defiant song. The ode of Theotokos, the God bearer, a powerful reclamation of a woman’s power. 

 

A woman’s ability to speak truth to power, a woman’s ability to do hard things, a woman’s ability to change the world. 

 

Through a yes that becomes embodied power.

 

My soul magnifies the Lord! 

 

My soul, a woman’s soul, magnifies the Lord. 

 

My soul magnifies the Lord, she cries out. 

 

And I meet the word with another. 

 

Magnificat.

 

Magnify.

 

Magnifies.

 

And, the word becomes a story…

 

I remember playing with a magnifying glass when I was little. Using it to look more closely at objects that interested me. A blade of grass, a flower, an insect, even the dirt—brought closer, made larger, and clarified through a simple lens. A simple lens, magnifying a simple object. Magnifying it so that I could appreciate its complexity and its beauty in a way that I could not have seen on my own. 

 

It is her body that magnified the Lord. It is her lungs that leant power to her words. Her yes. Her courage. 

 

And through her magnification, she shows us something new. Something, that  we might never have seen without her vision. Something that we might never have uttered without her breath. 

 

An apocalyptic vision of a world upended by the might of God. God who will tear down the mighty and send the rich away empty. God who will destroy the systems and structures that oppress in favor of a new life that liberates. These are radical words, these are occupy Wall Street sentiments, these are raised fists and peaceful protest, and these are the words that scripture has given us. Words from the mouth of a poor, young, woman, who knew full well the power of a woman’s song—Miriam, Ruth, Esther, Judith. One name prompts another and then another, a powerful and prophetic lineage for the Theotokos, God bearer, we call Mary. These were her ancestors in the faith and in this moment she assumes their mantle. Assumes the mantle of women who spoke truth to power, prophesied greatly, and served God from outside the traditional structures of power. 

 

The forces Mary confronted were formidable. Roman rule, temple abuses, and the peasants of Palestine could expect more than 55% of their income to be taken in tithe and tax. In Mary’s time it is estimated that 2-3% of the population possessed the vast majority of the wealth. Mary was not part of this elite and her ode, this Magnificat, comes from the mouth of a peasant girl, a girl like hundreds of others, who lived in a society in which the rich had gotten richer and trickle down economics could more accurately be described as trickle up—as the Roman Empire leaned on the provinces for steady revenue. In fact, “the census that appears prominently in the Gospels during the reign of Augustus is fundamentally a tool of taxation: tying people to their land and counting them for purposes of tax collection.” https://www.elca.org/JLE/Articles/605 

How do her words preach now? How do they preach now, during the reign of the current president, in the midst of a pandemic, when the top 1% of Minnesotans account for 16.3% of all income in the state? (USA Today, “How much do you need to be in the top 1% in every state?”, July 1^st, 2020) How do her words preach now? When 8 months rent comes due, a years’ worth of student loan interest, suspended payroll taxes are collected, and those whose doubts led to deaths are first in line for vaccination. 

 

What do you hear in the Magnificat? Is it ominous warning or liberation from death, debt and despair? What do you hear in these words? Pastoral romanticism or the first steps towards a new creation?

 

During the reign of Emperor Quirinius…

 

Joseph harnesses the donkey.

 

And step by step, they make their way towards Bethlehem. 

 

Annunciation, Magnificat, magnify, see, apocalypse, liberation, women, empowerment, economy, Palestine, taxes, injustice, Mary, birth, hope, Christmas…

 

What word comes next? 

 

I invite you to reflect on this question as you listen to Dan Forrest’s choral setting of the Howard Thurman poem, “The Work of Christmas”. 

 

Mark, will you take us there?

 

2010 Proper 26C: Aesthetic Essential

The propers:

Isaiah 1:10-18
2nd Thessalonians 1:1-4; 11-12
Luke 19:1-10

The Sermon:

The Episcopal church is known for the beauty of its liturgy…some of the most wonderful occasions of worship I have experienced have been rife with pomp and circumstance. Incense wafting through literal catacombs; fire in the darkness; the choir’s anthem ascending and filling the space; communion served while gazing in reverence at glorious carvings of saints. And, I’m going to generalize wildly here…we tend to be people who love language, who love poetry and the art of worship. Our liturgy is a means of “seeing” God in beauty—and offering up the best of what we have as human beings to God. The compilation of the Book of Common Prayer was an attempt to offer a form for worship that would glorify God in truth, in beauty and most importantly in a gathered community of individuals gathered for a shared purpose—the journey towards God.

Indeed, people have left churches when liturgical changes have occurred…the “new” prayer book (and since when is something first published in 1979 “new”?); the “new” hymnal; offering communion every Sunday as opposed to morning prayer; and sometimes it seems like nothing inspires more debate amongst clergy and lay people than the question of where to put the announcements—you’ll find that the prayer book is surprisingly quiet about that subject! Why is there so much passion in regards to the matter of “how” we worship God? Especially given the passage we read today from Isaiah… “I cannot endure solemn assemblies…” I mean, it seems fairly clear here, forget the worship and do the deeds! The prophet Isaiah has some strong words to say about folks who make a show of worship, who think that the pageantry and performance of the thing are adequate alone. And, he even uses the conversation stoppers…Sodom and Gomorrah to do so (it would be like mentioning hurricane Katrina in a planning session at a planning meeting of the army corp of engineers). Everyone knows how bad it was…and no one wants to experience such hardship again and would do anything they could to prevent it.

That said, why then do we persist in showing up Sunday after Sunday? Why is it that Christian worship has continued with the combination of book, washing, meal, song and speech? Why is any of this important to us…as we ponder the mandate “cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow”. There are many in this world and in this community that do all of these things…without ever setting foot in ANY place of worship. So is what we do here, is it merely some relic of times past? Are this worship and gathering relevant to the world AT ALL? Are we wasting our time and God’s by gathering here at Church of Our Saviour?

My calling would argue that this is not wasted time…but time that is essential to our survival as Christians and as human beings; it is time that is essential for helping us to become the people that “God intends us to be”. We are the better for this gathering…it reminds us. It reminds us who we are and to whom we belong. For, in reading scripture we are able to hear the story of our people—it connects us to our history and we are challenged to take this history, learn from it and discover its relevance to contemporary times. In sharing song we are expressing our faith and our collective ability to participate in creating something beautiful. In the water of baptism we express our connection to each other and God—acknowledging the presence of God in the here and the now. In the bread and wine we are given the opportunity each week to gather at God’s table and participate in a meal of reconciliation, remembrance and expansiveness. Book, washing, meal, song and speech—these are simple things, holy things, things that may seem irrelevant when juxtaposed with the demanding needs of our lives and our times. But, they are important to us…and at the center of it all is the act of reconciliation.

From the perspective of our faith the Sunday liturgy, the “things” we do are the primary means by which we engage in the ministry of reconciliation. It brings us together, it reminds us of God’s mercy and it becomes a means by which we can step outside of ourselves and the small worlds in which we spend so much of our time. I know that if I didn’t go to church I wouldn’t have to deal with people I would normally have never met in my day to day life. Our friends would be other youngish professionals…we would probably spend more time attending doctor parties and only hang out with other folks with small children. And, in having only friends who are “like us” life may seem less complicated—with less potential for disagreement and come with the comfort of shared assumptions about life. But this sort of social isolationism is not the kingdom of God that is intended—a kingdom where everyone is invited to the banquet. In Lathrop’s work “Holy Things” he asserts that the Sunday liturgy is the principal reminder we have the “God welcomes sinners”.

In gathering together a disparate group of people, in welcoming everyone and coming together with no barriers to admittance we are reminding ourselves and each other of the realities of the wider world and the love of God for everyone. Sunday makes the poor relevant to those of us who are not poor; Sunday makes the widows real for those of us whose friends are mostly young; Sunday brings children into the midst of those whose only encounter with children during the week is getting stuck behind a school bus. Sunday brings tax collectors into our midst and makes us the richer for it!

Perhaps worship for us becomes like Zacchaeus’ climbing into the tree. Our worship and indeed the story of Zacchaeus may seem quaint, cute and perhaps even ridiculous by the world’s standards—but it is actually a radical act of seeking out God. In coming here, we demonstrate our desire to be in relationship with God and each other. We demonstrate that who God is matters and that we are longing to be in relationship with each other and are willing to sacrifice our dignity and even our worldly concerns to do so.

“Lord, may our fellowship be the revelation of your presence and turn our daily bread into the bread of life.” {Alternative Service Book; Anglican Church of Canada]

Sermon notes for Advent 4B, 08

some resources:
http://www.bibleinterp.com/articles/Schniedewind.shtml
-good critical/historical analysis of the 2 Samuel reading
http://www.religion-online.org/showarticle.asp?title=2632
-Stendahl's article

And, I'm looking at the Magnificat as the option in place of the psalm
“My soul magnifies the Lord, 47and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, 48for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; 49for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. 50His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. 51He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. 52He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; 53he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. 54He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, 55according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

And, hoping to address the challenge of saying "yes"...for Mary saying "yes" as a young teen (in her culture old enough to marry and bear children, in our culture not old enough to drive or use the oven without some measure of supervision) meant being unwed and pregnant in a society in which the punishment for adultery (in this case a woman getting pregnant and therefore bringing shame upon her family and in a society where women are a commodity reducing her value) is being stoned to death. What then ran through her mind in those moments of saying yes, did she realize what she was agreeing to? Did the full impact of her decision hit her in those initial moments of encounter with Gabriel? So, I look to the Magnificat--a prayer spoken at a time when she had already begun to feel the movement of her child within her. A prayer spoken at a time when maternal death was an all too likely possibility in childbirth. In some ways then the prayer is an act of defiance against her culture and times--she is claiming God's mercy, she declares herself lifted up, she has been filled with good things. SHE is claiming the promise that is made in Samuel for HERSELF! I don't know if her community would have called this "obedience of faith"--I would call it "defiance in accordance with her faith!" And, in an androcentric text (which arguably the Bible is, I don't think most of us can argue that women are often an afterthought in our tradition...much as I love our tradition--I mean we have to verbally add women to the printed texts of a good chunk of the BCP "God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob") it is remarkable that the entire world hangs on the tip of the tongue of a young woman living in what is arguably the Middle Eastern equivalent of the middle of nowhere. I mean, her town was nowhere near "mainstreet" and hers is not a voice we hear at the inauguration of presidents--or even in the pageants depicting the birth of her son. I mean, when was the last time you saw a nativity that included Mary's Magnificat?

So, what does that mean to us, now. What radical reality do we dare say yes to? When we are "learning how to say no" what does it mean to embrace the "yes" to God? What dangerous declaration are we making? In my life I can think of two--"yes, I'm gay" and "yes, I'll be a priest". When have your yesses both condemned and liberated you?