So, I chose the 3rd one – Mary’s Song, also known as the Magnificat. It’s one I’ve never preached on it before. I’m sure I must have had a chance in the past 40 years. But for some reason, I shied away. I wasn’t sure why. Give me a juicy parable or a hard saying of Jesus, and I’m all in! But the Magnificat? It’s pretty straightforward, isn’t it? And maybe that was the problem. I was scared of it. The language is strong – bold – even shall we say ‘revolutionary’?
The radical nature of Mary’s song has not been lost on even those outside the church. For example, in 1805, British authorities in Calcutta banned the singing of the Magnificat in worship. Then in the mid-1970s the Argentine government banned its use when the Mothers of the Disappeared used the words in their protests. Then in the 1980s the government in Guatemala restricted use of the Magnificat in public, because it was so popular among Christian base communities.
When I learned this, I had to ask myself: Why would a government be afraid of something written 2000 years ago from a foreign culture reportedly sung by a teenage girl? Then it hit me. Those governments weren’t afraid of God’s judgment…they were afraid of the people who believed in God’s judgment! They were afraid that the poor, the oppressed, the ‘little people’ might rise up to challenge the system and demand justice. And there was no way those governments were going to give up power and control. Or the obscene wealth and privilege that came with it.
And it was no different in Mary’s time. As we heard from Dr. Hope two weeks ago, Mary’s people had been subjected to 400 years of empire and captivity by the time of the first Advent in Palestine. She lived in an occupied land among grassroots women and men at the bottom of the imperial order. Yet, somehow, she is credited with this magnificent song of joy – a hymn praising God for what God has done and is going to do for her, her people, and for every generation after that. How can this be?
Well, let’s look at the words of Mary’s song itself. The church has traditionally called this by its Latin name “Magnificat”, meaning ‘glory’. It comes from the first line where Mary says, “My soul magnifies the Lord”. In other words, her whole being gives glory to God, but not on her own account. It’s like the contemporary song says,
Not because of who I am
But because of what You've done
Not because of what I've done
But because of who You are
Mary has no illusions that she earned or deserves any of this. It’s only through God’s grace that she will become the Mother of Our Lord. And, to tell the truth, it’s only through God’s mercy that she will survive the job.
Still, the Magnificat has been sung daily by the Church throughout the ages not as a testament to Mary’s faith, but to God’s faithfulness to His people. That they had not been forgotten. That they were not powerless to change anything. But they can’t do it on their own. So, God has come in person to put things to right, to turn the world upside down in order to put us in right relationship with each other and with our Creator.
So, what would that upside down world look like?
The 2nd half of the Magnificat spells it out clearly:
LUKE 1
51 He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
52 He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly;
53 he has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.
If those images sound somewhat familiar, you’re right! The words of the Magnificat didn’t just spring spontaneously from Mary’s lips. All these lines echo verses from the Hebrew Bible – particularly the Psalms and First Samuel. Mary’s song then is a veritable collage of Scripture celebrating the mighty works of God in history.
But that’s not all. Even more than recalling the message of the Old Testament, the Magnificat anticipates the Gospel message of the New Testament. Take for example the Beatitudes. The more famous version is from Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount. But Luke’s version packs its own punch. Here Jesus pronounces four blessings followed by four woes. The similarity to the Magnificat is unmistakable.
LUKE 6: 20-26
“Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.”
“Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled.”
“Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.”
“Blessed are you when people hate you… for surely your reward is great in heaven.”
“But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.”
“Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry.”
“Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep.”
“Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is how their ancestors treated the false prophets.”
Whoa, no wonder words like these were banned! The Magnificat may have been sung first in Elizabeth’s living room, but it obviously wasn’t going to stay there. The Magnificat was meant to be lived out in the world with real people in real time.
But, as we said, we can’t do this by ourselves. Yet God didn’t intend to do it alone either. God’s plan for salvation involves humans working together with the divine. The story of Advent therefore is the story of partnership – God’s partnership with ordinary people to do extraordinary things. People like Zechariah, Elizabeth, Mary and Joseph. Ordinary people like you and me. Amazing, isn’t it?
The Catholic theologian Tina Beattie warns us, however, that partnership doesn’t come without risk. The upside-down kingdom that Mary proclaims is built on the power of love, not the love of power. Therefore, it’s “a kingdom of the vulnerable, and that means that it acts as a magnet for all the wrath and violence of human power. [And because it does, says Beattie,] Mary will see this child of grace and miracle, this Son of God, cry out in his death throes: ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ The Kingdom that Mary reveals [then] is not a kingdom that takes the crucified down from their crosses. It demands something much more difficult. It asks us to stand with the crucified and to share their suffering, to stay with them when everybody else has run away, to keep faith outside their tombs on Holy Saturday … to tell their stories and refuse to abandon the dangerous memories that disrupt our settled histories.”
Can we do that? Can I do that? I’m not sure. My track record so far isn’t too impressive. Even knowing God goes with me every step of the way, I’m still scared. But I take to heart the words from our brother Aimé last week. They’re echoed by a pastor from the United Church of Canada, who said, “As people of faith, we need to make choices about how we live our days upon this earth. The issue isn’t whether we can somehow single-handedly save the world by changing the way we live. The issue is whether the way we live is faithful to the purposes of God for the world.… [and] the Magnificat, whether we like it or not, describes God’s intention for the world.”
So, when it comes to the Magnificat, it’s clear we really have only two options: Tame it or claim it. May Jesus give us the commitment and community to claim the Magnificat as our own, day by day. That’s how, in the words of poet Gerard Manley Hopkins, that’s how we and Mary accomplish the one work we have to do – to let all God’s glory through.
I would like to close this morning not with my words but the words of Mary’s Song of Joy. We will hear it sung in Aramaic, the language that it’s believed Jesus spoke. It’s performed here by the sacred music ensemble Harpa Dei.
To God be all the glory.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-lkovRd99Hs
