Last Sunday after the Epiphany - February 10

Lent and Different Learning Styles
 Luke 9:28-36

We just heard the story of the transfiguration, Jesus’ transfiguration. This event has its own feast day on the calendar August 6, but we also always read one of the Gospel accounts of the transfiguration on this last Sunday after the Epiphany. I found myself wondering this year what this story offers to us on this particular Sunday in the calendar. Why do we hear it on this day every year?

It is, of course, an epiphany story. And along with the story of Jesus’ baptism it probably stands as the ultimate epiphany story. Stories about seeing or recognizing the glory of God in the person of Jesus. In both stories God’s voice from heaven booms out proclaiming Jesus’ as God’s own. And we always hear the story of Jesus’ baptism on the first Sunday after the Epiphany. So it makes sense to bracket Epiphany season with these two powerful Epiphany stories.

But this Sunday is not just about Epiphany. In the old Prayer Book, it was one of the “gesima’s.” Quinquagesima Sunday, to be precise. The gesima Sundays were sort of a pre-Lent, anticipating the Lenten journey towards Holy Week and Easter. So are we looking forward or backward today?

To help me get a sense of the significance of the transfiguration story I looked at its broader context in Luke.

The passages before today’s reading include the confession of Peter, when Peter names Jesus as God’s Messiah. Then there is a short teaching piece from Jesus where, speaking of himself, he tells how the Son of Man will be killed and then raised. Those who lose their life for my sake will save it. Follow me to the Kingdom of God where the Son of Man will come to his glory and the glory of the Father and of the holy angels.

It’s all about the Kingdom, he seems to be saying. I’m talking about the Kingdom of God!

After today’s reading, there’s a short story illustrating (again!) the disciples’ denseness and then Luke says: “When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.”

The journey to Jerusalem and the cross is the journey to the Kingdom of God.

The Lenten journey is the journey to the Kingdom of God.

It’s all about the Kingdom of God…. Jesus coming to his glory in the Kingdom of God and the invitation to the disciples to follow him to the Kingdom. It’s all about the Kingdom.

This is the message Jesus is trying to get across in this portion of Luke. And as I read Luke, it occurred to me that Jesus gets his message across in multiple ways that will be effective for people with different learning styles.

This is definitely not my field, but as I understand one component of current educational theory is the idea that different people learn in different ways. Some people take in and absorb new information visually, others aurally, some with physical movement (kinesthetically). There are also verbal learners, logical learners, social learners and solitary learners.

In trying to convey his message about the Kingdom of God, Jesus hit at least the first three. First he told the disciples, that should have registered with aural learners. Then he walked them up the mountain. That should have connected the kinesthetic learners. Then he was transfigured. He showed them the kingdom. And if everyone didn’t get that, certainly the visual learners should have.

I’m not really suggesting that God or Jesus works within the parameters of our contemporary educational theory. God reveals God’s self throughout our world, in many ways, through many media. God’s self-revelation is everywhere, but different people are going to perceive that revelation in different ways.

In what places, or what activities are you most aware of God? What is your learning style when it comes to God’s revelation or teaching?

All of which brings be back to the Kingdom of God and Lent.

The Lenten journey that lies just ahead of us is the journey towards Jerusalem and, Jesus tells us, the Kingdom of God. Undertaking a Lenten discipline helps with that journey. If you would like help getting to the Kingdom of God, pick some Lenten discipline. (If you really don’t think you need any help, well, then, you can disregard Lent.)

But pick a Lenten discipline that works for you. It’s not about the church imposing some particular discipline. For those of us who don’t eat much meat to start with, giving up red meat on Fridays really doesn’t mean much. It’s about you looking for help that will be meaningful for you. Where do you find God?

The Lutheran preacher David Lose reminds us that most people keep their daily lives and their faith lives pretty separate. But the road to the Kingdom is in our daily lives. A Lenten discipline is a way of finding the Kingdom road in our daily lives.

Where do you find God? Do more of that. The Lutheran liturgy for Ash Wednesday instructs people during Lent to resist anything that draws you away from the love of God or neighbor. Do less of those sorts of things.

Taking on a discipline just for discipline’s sake is good, even if it is not a particularly meaningful fit for you. Any discipline that, directly or indirectly, makes you mindful of God is helpful. But Lent is an opportunity for more. Maybe you have something you “always” do for Lent. Is it working? Is it bringing you closer to the Kingdom? Maybe you’ve never done anything before. Now is the time.

Every year I publish the guide “Lent for Dummies.” Pick one up. Read it from start to finish. These are words that are helpful to me: Give up something or some practice in your life that squanders life’s goodness or wastes life’s giftedness. Give up whatever you do to “kill time.” Or, to cast that in the positive, take on whatever you do that cherishes life’s goodness, celebrates life’s giftedness. Sanctifies time… in your life.

It contains specific suggestions for different ways to pray. And various resources for reflection. Prayer and reflection are traditional Lenten practices, but they may not be the most effective for everyone. The “Join the Journey through Lent” poster is good because it has a variety of activities. It probably hits all seven learning styles each week. Lent Madness is fun for families and a great tie in to youth worship. The Cowley fathers are offering a daily video on prayer this year.

One final note: Alms-giving is one of the traditional practices of Lent. And particularly if your discipline is one that results in saving you money (and giving up Starbucks would save many of you quite a bit of money), put that money aside and give it away to the church or some other organization that does “kingdom work.”

It’s all about the Kingdom. We’ve been invited in. The Lenten road, following Jesus, is the way.

Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany - February 3

For the People of Nazareth, Too
Luke 4:21-30

The Gospel reading we heard this morning is a direct continuation of the story we heard last Sunday. Jesus has come to his hometown of Nazareth and gone to the synagogue on the Sabbath, as was his custom. He stands up to read from the Scriptures and reads these words from Isaiah:

 “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind. To let the oppressed go free to proclaim the year of the Lords favor.”

He sits down. The eyes of all of those people in Nazareth are upon him. People he’s grown up with, neighbors, people who know his family. Then he says, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” The Lord has anointed me.

This is where today’s reading picks up. Jesus’ reading gets a mixed response. At first people seem awed, moved perhaps by their awareness of the Spirit of the Lord within Jesus. Amazed at the possibility that this man might be the Messiah. But then some people, at least, appear skeptical. This man? Really? Jesus? The kid down the street? Think about names and faces of people you knew in childhood. Could you seriously accept the idea that somebody you grew up with could be God’s Son? I can sympathize with the skepticism of the people in Nazareth.

We cherish our connections to people who grew up to become famous… sports stars, entertainers, politicians. But this is a different world. Jesus himself suggesting that he is God’s anointed. In Mark and Matthew’s telling of this event, it is clear that Jesus could do no acts of power in Nazareth, and Matthew states that it is the peoples’ unbelief that limits Jesus’ power. Their own familiarity makes them blind to Jesus identity and shields them from his grace and power.

But there is another dynamic here as well. Before coming to Nazareth, Jesus has healed and cast out demons in Capernaum. And the people of Nazareth know of his deeds in Capernaum.

Writing about this passage, Fred Craddock (Interpretation Commentary on Luke) says: “The problem however, lies far deeper than blind familiarity. If the people of Nazareth assumed privileges for themselves, that error is joined to a more serious one: resentment that Jesus has taken God’s favor to others beyond Nazareth, especially Capernaum, said to have had a heavy non-Jewish population.”

Not only has Jesus taken God’s favor, God’s healing power, to people outside his own hometown, he has taken it to people who are not his own people. And then, to justify or explain his actions, he quotes Scripture to the people of Nazareth. He quotes to them their own Scriptures, the very familiar stories of Elijah and Elisha bringing God’s favor to non-Jews. Elijah, who helped the widow from Sidon and Elisha, who healed Naaman, the Syrian.

Craddock, again, “The war is between Judaism and its own Scriptures.” Between the Jews in Nazareth and the witness of their own tradition, their own Scriptures. Not only does Jesus not buy into their own biases against non-Jews, outsiders, he points out to them that those biases are non-Jewish, not supported by their own Scriptures.

This passage is about how viciously angry and defensive people can be when forced to look in the mirror at themselves. They try to kill Jesus rather than face the truth about themselves.

Quoting Craddock’s commentary again: “Luke’s point throughout Luke-Acts is that Israel should have understood and embraced Jesus’ message. Israel knew of God’s grace towards all peoples as early as the covenant with Abraham (Gen. 22:18; Acts 3:25). And Jonah stands forever as the dramatic embodiment of that capacity in all of us, Jew and Christian alike, to be offended by God’s grace to all those of whom we do not approve. The reason I did want to preach to Ninevites, said Jonah to God, was “I knew that thou art a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love” (Jonah 4:3).”

Jonah, and the people of Nazareth, embody that capacity in all of us “to be offended by God’s grace to all of those of whom we do not approve.”

“The synagogue, now a mob, attempts to stone Jesus. Hurling a person against stones was as acceptable a form of stoning as was hurling the stones against the person. Yet this is far from official procedure; it is angry mob reaction. Even, so, it foreshadows not only the trial and death of Jesus but also the fate of many of his followers. If it foreshadows Israel’s rejection of Jesus and the taking of the message to Gentiles, then it is important to notice that Jesus does not go elsewhere because he is rejected, he is rejected because he goes elsewhere.”

What does all of this mean for us?

1) Those who would exclude some people from the Body of Christ, for whatever reason, should take note. Jesus did not take the Good News to the Gentiles because he was rejected by the Jews in Nazareth. God’s mission of hope and healing to those seen as “other” was not a fall-back plan, some sort of plan B. It was always God’s primary plan. Jesus went to Capernaum and the Gentiles there first. That was what offended the Jews in Nazareth. We are all challenged to beware of out own capacity to “be offended by God’s grace to al of those of whom we do not approve.”

2) The interpretation of Scripture is not easy. It contradicts itself in places. We are challenged to listen to even the parts that do not confirm our biases of who God is or what God should do. The people of Nazareth resisted that challenge. And in the midst of Scripture’s complexities and contradictions, we might do well to place particular emphasis on those passages that Jesus quotes. Passages that stress the expansiveness and inclusiveness of God’s love and power.

3) Jesus died to save the people of Nazareth, too.

Thank God Jesus died to save the people of Nazareth, too.

The Epiphany - January 6

Perhaps He May Need One
Matthew 2:1-12

Today is THE Epiphany. It always comes twelve days after Christmas, which means it only falls on a Sunday from time to time. But THE Epiphany is one of the principal feasts or holy days in our church calendar. It’s nice to celebrate it on a Sunday.

The word epiphany means revelation. It has some use, although maybe not a lot, outside the church. An epiphany is a sudden revelation or insight. The season of Epiphany, which begins today and continues up until the brink of Ash Wednesday, is all about sudden revelations or insights of the presence of God. The Scripture readings tell stories of people who suddenly saw God revealed in the man Jesus. It reminds us to look for God revealed… in the man Jesus, or the woman next door.

But today, THE Epiphany, commemorates a particular event… the arrival of the kings in Bethlehem, and their recognition of God’s presence in the child. The revelation that the king, the child, they sought, was God. In many parts of Christendom the Epiphany is the primary feast of the incarnation, rather than Christmas. It is not the birth of the child, but the revelation that the child is God’s own, that is celebrated.

The story of the kings is a story full of wonder, and there are all sorts of insights and lessons to be gleaned from it. I’m going to talk about gifts. Because, of course, the kings came bearing gifts. That’s one of the things we are told about them. They brought gifts to the child. And now that the flurry of Christmas gift giving is pretty much over for us, maybe it’s a good time to reflect upon gift giving. Why do we give gifts?

Perhaps the first thing to note is that gifts have a recipient. Gifts are given to someone. Always. There is a recipient. In this case it is Jesus. So the question is: Why give gifts to Jesus?

I can think of several possible reasons. First, to pay homage. To give a gift is an act of worship, a way of enacting reverence. In Scripture, the kings are described as paying homage to Jesus. They bring gifts of great value, bow down to Jesus, and pay him homage. When we are encouraged to give the first fruits of our life’s labor or other gifts of great value, we do so to worship, to pay homage, to Jesus. When we offer and give all that we are, our souls and bodies, before we come to the Lord’s table, that gift-giving is an act of reverence and worship.

We also give gifts as an act of love. I think that’s probably the best reason to give gifts to other human beings. The act of giving is an expression of love and a way of sharing and enriching a relationship. We mutter and decry the materialism of the Christmas season. But when gifts are given as tokens of love, the Holy Spirit is a part of that. And when we share our giftedness with Jesus or with the Body of Christ, it is an act of love. When we share some joy or some talent that we cherish, like music making or teaching or some creative activity, we are sharing and building a relationship of love.

So we might give gifts to Jesus as an act of worship or an act of love. I have one more possible motivation in mind and it’s the one that I’ve been living with particularly the last few days. I’m still not sure what it means for me. Here are two illustrations of this sort of gift giving, both fictional, one humorous, one more poignant.

The humorous one first. It comes from Garrison Keillor. I only have it second hand and didn’t have time to track down the original source, but it comes from his book, Life Among the Lutherans. He notes that of all the characters in the Christmas story, the Magi are the only ones who probably weren’t Jewish, but rather gentile. Keillor thinks the Magi may be have been Lutherans because they brought myrrh, which everyone knows is a “sort of casserole made from hamburger and macaroni.” Before they departed on their long journey, says Keillor, the wife of one of the Magi probably said: “Here, take this myrrh. They’ll be hungry. And make sure you bring back the dish.”

They’ll be hungry. The holy family… They’ll be hungry. They are away from home with a brand new baby. They don’t know anybody in Bethlehem; they don’t have a place to stay or cook. They’ll be hungry. They’ll need food. Give them something to eat.

The second illustration is from Gian Carlo Menotti’s opera, Amahl and the Night Visitors. It’s about a young crippled shepherd boy, named Amahl. He’s poor. His widowed mother is struggling… struggling to make ends meet, to raise a crippled, but precocious boy. The kings, the Magi, are the night visitors of the title. They come to the simple hut of Amahl and his mother, seeking hospitality along the way as they follow the star on their long journey. The mother covets the gold they carry, thinking of how she could help her son with all that gold. But as she comes to hear about the child the Kings seek, and as the plot unfolds, the mother comes to the place where she says, if she weren’t so poor, she would like to send a gift to such a child as the one the Kings seek. The crippled boy Amahl says, “Let me send him my crutch. Who knows, perhaps he may need one. And this I made myself.”

Perhaps he may need one. Perhaps the young boy born in Bethlehem might need a crutch.

Both of these stories tell of gifts given to meet a need, whether real or imaginary. “Who knows, perhaps he may need one.” Those words of the young crippled shepherd boy Amahl have stayed with me. Maybe the Holy Family is hungry. Maybe the young boy Jesus will need a crutch. Perhaps there’s a need that I can meet.

What does this mean for me, for us today?

One place to go with this is to see the face of Christ in others and to meet their needs. We do give gifts to Jesus every time we give to anyone who bears the image of Christ.

But I’ve also been thinking about Jesus’ own needs. We who live centuries after the birth of the Son of God in Bethlehem know that God doesn’t “need” anything. And the incarnate Christ is not among us now, as a child or as a man. But what if he were? What might Jesus need? For himself or his mission?

 Gifts have a recipient, and they are not forced. They are initiated by the giver. We may choose to give gifts to Jesus, as acts of worship or love or perhaps to meet a need. Perhaps he may need a crutch, says the crippled boy. Is there something I have that Jesus might need?

The First Sunday after Christmas Day - December 30

Light Shines in the Darkness
John 1:1-18

The metaphors or images of darkness and light are important in John's Gospel. In the introduction to the Gospel, which is the reading appointed for this First Sunday after Christmas, we are given a vivid introduction to the symbolism of light and darkness.

From this morning's reading, in the New Revised Standard translation:  What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

I have always found that last line powerful. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.  Even the smallest of lights can be seen in the darkness.

But maybe you remember the King James translation of this verse: And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.

To spend a little more time with this verse, I looked up a few additional translations.

From the New English Bible:  The light shines on in the dark, and the darkness has never mastered it.

From the New Jerusalem Bible:  Light shines in darkness and darkness could not overpower it. 

I have one more association with the verse.  From Benjamin Britten's opera Billy Budd.  So this is an opera by Britten, based on a novella by Herman Melville, with libretto by E. M. Forster (who was pretty handy with the English language.)  In it, there is a man who is evil:  John Claggert.  Claggert sees in the young man Billy Budd pure goodness.  And, in the opera, he responds by singing:  "O beauty, o handsomeness, goodness! Would that I ne’er encountered you! Would that I lived in my own world always, in that depravity to which I was born. There I found peace of a sort, there I established an order such as reigns in Hell. But alas, alas! The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness comprehends it and suffers."  A reference to the King James translation.  The darkness does comprehend the light, but that comprehension brings suffering to the darkness.

It’s one Greek word, of course, that describes what the darkness cannot do to the light.  There are several translation challenges.  First, it is in the aorist. If I remember correctly, that's not a verb tense we really have in English. Basically, it is a past tense that implies continuing action. Hence some of the translations speaking of the light shining on and the darkness continuing to struggle.  And the meaning is difficult to translate. It can mean:

1) to grasp in the sense of comprehend
2) to welcome, receive, accept
3) to overcome, or grasp in a hostile sense
4) to master

These are what the darkness would, but cannot do, to the light that has come into the world.

Whatever meaning the word takes, it speaks of a darkness that has will, motivation. The darkness is Godlessness within ourselves, within our world.  Those places within ourselves and within our world that turn away from Christ.  And those places of darkness are not passive; they are not just an absence of light.  The darkness has will, motivation, power.  Do not underestimate it.

And the darkness interacts with the light. The darkness perceives the light.  In the presence of the light, the darkness suffers, and would quench its beam.  The darkness struggles against the light... tries to overcome, comprehend, master, overpower.

But the darkness will never prevail. However you translate it, John says it.  Even the most powerful darkness will...  not...  prevail...  over the Light of Christ.  The tiniest candle can be seen throughout a vast and empty room. A single star will guide wise travelers across continents as they come seeking God. A tiny baby embodies all of heaven's brilliance. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not, can not, will not overcome it.

Christmas Day

Wanting What We Already Have

Frazz is one of the comics I read fairly regularly. I still miss my all time favorite Calvin and Hobbs, and I don’t always understand Frazz, but I want to share with you a strip that appeared a few days ago.

Frazz takes place at Bryson Elementary School. Several precocious children are recurring characters, especially a young boy named Caulfield. There are several quirky teaches and the school custodian, Frazz, who also happens to be a songwriter and do triathlons.

So Frazz is working in the school hallway and a young girl comes up to him and says, “Know what I want for Christmas? I want to wake up next to a warm, purring kitty.”

Frazz replies, “You want a new cat?” She says, “No, the same one.”

In the final frame, Frazz says, “I like how you think,” and she replies “Why should I have to not have something to want it?”

Why should I have to not have something to want it? Can't we already have something, and still want it, too?

In addition to being an indictment of the ultra consumerism of Christmas where advertisers try to instill desire in us for things we do not have, do not need and probably really do not want… I think this strip is pretty good theology. Why should I have to not have something to want it? We can know we have something, like a kitty who is warm and purrs; and at the same time still yearn for it, too.  To affirm what we have and experience desire at the same time. To still eagerly want what we have already been given. I think that is the Christian celebration of Christmas.  To celebrate that we have been given in Jesus' birth all that our hearts and souls could desire.  But at the same time still want and yearn for the presence of Emmanuel, God with us.  Simultaneous thankful celebration and yearning. That’s the Christian Christmas. Simultaneous celebration and yearning.

So, in that spirit what do I want for Christmas this year? A bright and shining star to guide me to God in the midst of life’s dark paces.

Frazz might ask, “A new star?”

No, the same one. The same one I’ve always had. Why should I have to not have something to want it?

And I’d like a song to sing that soars with joy and peace. I suppose a new one would be OK, if it was good. But why should I have to not have something to want it? I have Adeste Fideles and Joy to the World… I have them, and I want them, too.

And what I really, really want most for Christmas is for God to come. To me.  To come be with us. In gentleness and strength. Close enough to touch but full of majesty. To comfort and guide. To teach and forgive. I want a savior and a shepherd. To be with me to bless my struggles and give breath to my hopes. To bring joy and peace.

You want a new God for Christmas, Frazz might ask.

No, the same one. Why should I have to not have something to want it.  We can still want what we already have.

This Christmas season, wishing you both joyous celebration and eager yearning for our Savior's birth.

Christmas Eve

O Holy Night 

There was an article in today’s Tribune about the Christmas song, “O holy night."  For many people, it’s a special favorite.  You probably have a version you particularly like; mine is Pavarotti's. As the Trib noted in passing, it is a song that calls for a solo voice (unlike most Christmas carols).  Many singers in different styles and with varying success have recorded it over the years.

But it’s not the song I want to focus on, but the words. Holy Night. Holy Night.

Over and over again, in hymns and poems, human beings across the centuries have called this night “holy.” That word “holy," of course, is a word we use a lot in the church.We use it so frequently I imagine for many of you it usually just slides by without much notice or particular significance. It’s a word we say a lot in church, you expect to hear it. (As an aside it’s interesting that we don’t use it much at all outside of church.) But for some reason, tonight the word "holy" is not routine, not something that just slips by relatively unnoticed. Not on this holy night. This is a holy night.  And calling this night “holy” is important.

Especially when I’m teaching children about Holy Communion or working with adults, too, I ask people to define “holy” in their own words. Usually folks struggle just a bit. Something to do with God, they say. It’s hard to put exactly into words.

But, although it may be hard to come up with a dictionary-style definition for holy or holiness, you know it when you see it. You know it when you feel holiness. You know it when you experience holiness. And now, this night, this holy night, is one of those times.  One of those times when we see and hear and know holiness.

Tonight we know what holiness looks like. It looks like a baby born in a manger. A baby just like any other, except … holy. A little baby boy who is holiness.

Holiness is what angels sound like singing.

Somehow a simple story of shepherd’s and magi’s awe and wonder expresses something holy that we can touch and share.

Holiness is the vision of angels’ wings just visible, shimmering light in the dark.

 Holiness is the feeling born in human hearts this night—the inexplicable, but inextinguishable ember of hope within, no matter what is going on outside.

This night we are surrounded by holiness and filled with holiness. Maybe it’s hard to describe or explain, but it’s there. This night. This holy night.

God’s gift this night is holiness. Given to us. Into our lives; into our world. God, with us.

Holiness came into our world that night in Bethlehem so many years ago when God was born in a manger. Holiness came into our world and it has never left.

In this annual celebration of the holy nativity our awareness is renewed. Our confidence is restored that we may seek and expect holiness throughout our lives.

As a part of the Prayer Book service of Daily Evening Prayer, we pray “that this evening may be holy, good and peaceful.” That’s a prayer to be said daily, any evening,  every night. And because this night is holy, and we know it is holy, we can expect any night, all other nights, to be holy, too.

Because we see and hear the holy angels on this night, we can look for them to guard us and sing to us on other nights.

Because an unquenchable light shines in the darkness of this holy night, we can grasp the promise that we will never be conquered by the dark.

Hang on to the holiness of this night. It is real and it does not depart with tomorrow’s sunrise.

Because God in all of his holiness was born in human flesh on this night, we human beings are invited to know and share God’s holiness throughout our lives.

O holy night. The stars are brightly shining. This is the night of our dear Savior’s birth.  O, holy night.

Fourth Sunday of Advent - December 23

The Prophet Mary
Luke 1:39-45

Some of you may remember that Diocesan Convention this fall was all about “fierce” conversations. I didn’t go to the workshop on fierce conversations, but I did hear the keynote speaker. In this context “fierce” is considered a good thing. Basically, it seems to refer to communication that is open, honest, courageous. In a different time and place, rather than encouraging fierce conversations, we might have said: “Get real.” “Don’t beat around the bush.” “Tell it like it is.”

The people who talk about fierce conversations, describe them as having these qualities:
They interrogate reality.
Provoke learning.
Tackle tough challenges.
Enrich relationships.

That sounds to me like the job description for a prophet. We hear a lot from the prophets during Advent. They definitely lay bare the reality of their day, often naming the people’s faithlessness. They vigorously provoke learning about God’s purpose. They speak in challenging times and situations. And yet, all that the prophets do is ultimately with the hope and purpose of enriching peoples’ relationships with God.

The prophetic voices of Advent often seem to be foretelling the future, and part of what Advent is about is looking forward. But really the prophets speak to their present. They say: this is what God is like. This is what God intends. This is where God’s desire meets your reality.

Jeremiah says: a righteous branch shall spring up for David. He shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. Our God is a God of righteousness and judgment.

Malachi: He is like a refiner’s fire and fuller’s soap; he will purify the descendents of Levi until they present offerings to the Lord in righteousness.

Zephaniah: The Lord, your God is in your midst.

Micah: He shall stand and feed his flock in the strength of the Lord.

And finally, one more prophetic voice: “He has cast down the mighty from their thrones and lifted up the lowly.” Yes, Mary stand squarely in this line of Old Testament prophets.

Writing in 1891, not exactly a time of rampant feminism, B. W. Johnson wrote: Elizabeth and Mary are the first two human prophets of the New Testament. (I guess maybe they were preceded by the non-human, angelic Gabriel.)

In the Gospel today, we heard Mary’s prophetic song, the magnificat. I can’t help but ponder how differently we might perceive these words if they had been said by a male voice.

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Savior; for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant. 
From this day all generations will call me blessed: the Almighty has doe great things for me, and holy is his Name. 
He has mercy on those who fear him in every generation. 
He has shown the strength of his arm, he has scattered the proud in their conceit. 
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly. 
He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty. 
He has come to the help of his servant Israel, for he has remembered his promise of mercy, 
The promise he made to our fathers, to Abraham and his children for ever. 

We think of Mary in many ways. Young. Humble. “Mother Mary meek and mild.” Obviously many mothering images are associated with her. Although anyone who knows anything about mothering knows that being a mother means much more than being meek and mild. She must have been strong. And certainly faithful. Over the centuries in Catholic piety she has been seen as intercessor and guide. Mary, pray for us.

I think over the years I have seen the magnificat primarily as a song of praise. A wonderful unrestrained song of praise. Mary’s words of praise. And certainly the first few lines fit that perspective. But, overall, reading and hearing the magnificat as a whole, it fits right into this prophetic tradition. It’s mostly about God. A fierce, prophetic proclamation of God’s perspective. God’s promise. This is God’s vision for reality! Mary proclaims. God brings down the powerful from their thrones. God comes to the lowly and does great things for them God scatters the proud, but feeds the hungry. For those who are faithful, God’s strength is shown in mercy.

Mary not only foretells Jesus’ coming, even more importantly she proclaims who Jesus is. Who God is. In a sense she is prophetically laying out of Jesus’ mission statement.

Writing about Jeremiah’s prophecy, Melinda Quivik states: The prophet is the one who holds out a vision for us to cling to especially when we cannot grasp the meaning. Mary gives us a vision to cling to even in times when its fulfillment may be difficult for us to envision or grasp. Mary, majestically and prophetically, tells us who this child will be and how he will bring God’s purpose into our world.

Our God is one…
Who has no patience with the powerful and proud.
Whose strength is expressed in mercy for those who revere him.
Who lifts up the lowly and feeds the hungry.

This is the God of the ancient prophets.
This is the God born a baby in the manger.
This is the God of our own time.

Our God is one who comes to lift up the lowly and feed the hungry, both literally and metaphorically.

To all who are hungry for lack of food or whose souls are starved for hope and peace. To all who are lowly, trampled down or marginalized by this world or brought low by anxiety, confusion or fatigue. To all who are hungry or lowly, God comes to you. This is Mary’s prophecy.