Scripture: Luke 1:46-56
And Mary said,
“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on the lowly state of his servant.
Surely from now on all generations will call me blessed,
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name;
indeed, his mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones
and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things
and sent the rich away empty.
He has come to the aid of his child Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”
And Mary remained with her about three months and then returned to her home.
Meditation
When I was a child growing up in the Catholic church, I noticed something odd. At my parochial school, the nuns and lay teachers emphasized Jesus—the son of God, the Savior. At home, I could see that my mother’s devotion was to Mary.
I asked her about it. I don’t know how old I was, but I was old enough to notice that there was a row of older women in the back of the church who prayed the rosary all through mass, and I was also old enough, which means, I’d received and probably misinterpreted enough of the catechism, to be annoyed by it. Mary wasn’t the star of mass, I reasoned. Jesus was. What was this all about?
So, as I said, I asked my mother about it. Why do those women in the back of the church say the rosary all through mass? I asked my mother, who prayed the rosary at least daily at home, more frequently when she was in distress or in pain. Her answer was terse. “Maybe they relate to Mary more than they relate to Jesus.”
I’m not sure she really answered my question.
This morning we hear a story about two women coming together at a key moment in both of their lives: Elizabeth, who will bear the prophet, the Christ-proclaimer John the Baptist, and Mary, who will bear the Christ, the Messiah, himself.
Every commentary I’ve read on this passage takes note of how amazing this is—the presence of such a story: A story of two women in scripture, whose coming together is not only noted, but whose actual words are reported. This is rare because women are rare in the bible. Out of 3,237 individuals in scripture who are named, only 205 of them are women—that’s something like 6 percent.
This is also one of the few biblical passages that passes the Bechdel test. For those of you who are not familiar with this test, it’s an assessment of movies. “[It] is a simple test which names the following three criteria: (1) [the movie] has to have at least two women in it, who (2) who talk to each other, about (3) something besides a man.”[i]
Now, Elizabeth and Mary come together because each of them is pregnant with a child who will be an extraordinary man, that is true. But if you examine their conversation, it is entirely about God. Here, again, are Elizabeth’s words:
Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord. ~Luke 1:42-45
Elizabeth’s first words are words of blessing, and blessing comes from God. Then she marvels at the privilege of being in the presence of what the Greek-Orthodox church calls the “Theotokos,” the God-bearer. Mary is carrying the Messiah, and Elizabeth is overwhelmed to be in her AND his presence. And then, Elizabeth reports that her child, on hearing Mary’s voice, gives her a good swift kick. Elizabeth takes this kick to be a sign that her child, too, is rejoicing at God’s goodness in this moment. Finally, Elizabeth proclaims God’s blessing on both women: Blessed is she who trusted that God would fulfill God’s promise to her.
If the first chapter of Luke’s gospel were a movie, it would totally pass the Bechdel test. And for scripture, in which only about 6 out of every 100 people named are women, that’s extraordinary.
Mary’s response? Well, it’s a song, it’s a speech, it’s a call to heavenly arms. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German pastor and theologian who was executed by the Nazis, called it “the most passionate, the wildest, one might even say the most revolutionary hymn ever sung.”
Though we have hymns that attest that “Mary was his mother mild,” Mary’s own words suggest a bolder, more complex personality.
The hymn starts out with words of praise—Mary “magnifying” God, giving the world her testimony to God’s almost unbelievable greatness. When we magnify something, we make it easier to see. Mary’s words allow others to see and hear God’s greatness. This is because, she sings, God has looked with favor on her—and she’s a lowly servant. Mary is acknowledging that she is a poor, young, unwed mother-to-be. She is in what most women then and now would consider to be a tough situation. But then she goes on to note that now, all generations will call her blessed—and it is true. Mary’s name has now been written in history, and it will be there forever.
What follows is revolutionary. Mary gives praise to God for what theologian Gustavo Guttierez calls God’s “preferential option for the poor.”
Mary sings of a God who has shown strength by scattering the proud in their conceit.
Mary sings of a God who topples the powerful from their thrones, and instead lifts up the lowly.
Mary sings of a God who fills the hungry with good things, sending the rich away empty.
I read (and shared with the Bible Study folks) an op ed piece from the Washington Post that lifted up the fact that in many places—in many churches—the people in the pews hear only the first few verses of Mary’s song—the part about her being the lowly beneficiary of God’s goodness. They never get to the revolutionary part. But the words of Mary, followed by the life of Jesus, show us how important these matters are to God. Theologian Christine Raslavsky writes,
We can never stop questioning an oppressive system that forces billions of our brothers and sisters in our country and around the world to live in poverty. We need to ask "why?" Why are people starving around the world? How can the United States, the richest nation in the world, allow its people to live in poverty, to be homeless in the "land of opportunity," to lack good education and adequate health care and to starve to death?…What occurs in the United States and throughout the world that allows so many to have so little when so few have so much? As one of the elite—the fed, the clothed, the sheltered, the educated—what are my responsibilities as I step out into this unjust world society and try to make my way?
And, of course, when we see the life and ministry of Jesus unfold, we can tell who raised him. Mary’s song comes streaming from Jesus, in word and in action. And Mary’s son reminds us, again and again, that, as one writer has said, “I know that loving my neighbor is the No. 1 way I can love God in our world.”[ii]
But the question remains: why did those ladies say the rosary all throughout mass? Why did my mother “relate” to Mary better than she did to Jesus?
As I grew into my faith and experienced more of life, some parts of the puzzle seemed to fall into place.
Mary and Elizabeth experienced God in that moment when Mary arrived, and John gave his mother a kick. They experienced God in their encounter of one another, and their shared revelation of God breaking into the human experience. We have all experienced God, whether in parenthood in its many forms, or in deep friendship, or in camaraderie with work colleagues, or in the privilege of being caring for by loving family as a child or caring for parents in their later years. I have experienced it with and in and through you, all of you. Maybe my mother and the women saying the rosary in church experienced God through Mary’s life and witness. It’s like that famous DaVinci painting of John the Baptist, where he’s pointing heavenward. Mary’s and Elizabeth’s lives point to God.
We experience God in one another, all made in God’s image as we are. We are all signs to one another of God’s presence and action, God’s genius at diversity and surprise, and God’s enduring, steadfast love and faithfulness, from generation to generation.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
[i] “Bechdel Test Movie List,” bechdeltest.com.
[ii] D. L. Mayfield, “Mary’s Magnificat in the bible is revolutionary. Some evangelicals silence her,” The Washington Post, Op-Ed December 20, 2018. https://www.washingtonpost.com/religion/2018/12/20/marys-magnificat-bible-is-revolutionary-so-evangelicals-silence-it/.