Promise

I love Christmas caroling. A few of us went this past Wednesday and it was just lovely. It continues to be one of my most favorite traditions.

Christmas carols, like a lot of other hymns we sing, have a history about them. They carry deep theology about the love of God breaking through the darkness, about hope, peace, abiding joy, and belief in a God who keeps God’s promises.

Did you know that the tradition of Christmas caroling is said to have begun with St. Francis of Assisi in the mid 13th century? St. Francis added lyrics to well known Christmas music in an effort to teach people about the birth of Jesus. These songs were often performed in plays as a form of entertainment and focused on Mary’s journey to Bethlehem, and the birth of Jesus.

If you consider how many songs are employed by the gospel of Luke, there are quite a few carols. Mary sings. Zechariah sings. The angels sing. Simeon sings. The nativity in the gospel of Luke is set to music.

Mary, who had only just received the news of her own miraculous birth, was also told that her older relative Elizabeth was pregnant as well. Mary rushes to see her and upon seeing each other they have a moment of revelation and joy. The baby jumps in Elizabeth’s womb(some of you ladies in here may well remember that feeling) filling Elizabeth with the Holy Spirit. Elizabeth proclaims a blessing over Mary saying “blessed is she who believes” and then Mary in turn breaks out in song singing “My soul magnifies the Lord.”

We call this song the Magnificat, which is the Latin word for ‘magnifies.’ Perhaps randomly breaking out in song seems strange to you, but consider when you might do so without thinking twice about it. We sing at birthdays, funerals, at Christmas, on New Years Eve, and for many other significant life events.

Breaking out in song was part of Israel’s history. Mary joins the voices of other women who have broken out in song throughout the narrative of scripture.

Randall Bailey says “Mary’s song, which most believe to be based on the song of Hannah in 1 Samuel 2:1–10, is one of four poems in the Bible placed in the mouths of women who play key roles in the lives of ancient Israel and Judah, those women being Miriam (Exod. 15), Deborah (Judg. 5), Hannah, and now Mary. All of these songs are placed in the narrative at key points in the history of the nation: the exodus from Egypt, formation of the nation during the period of the judges and Philistine oppression, and now Roman occupation, colonization, and oppression.”

Mary’s song is all about the fulfilling of a promise made long ago: one that seeks to end oppression, one that seeks to raise up the lowly and favor the down-and-out. It is no longer just a story she has been told but a story and a promise that is unfolding within her. She is now what we call theotokos or God-bearer. She is the bearer of the promise of God, the hope of the world.

This hope Mary sings of comes from a deep place of longing, but also a deep trust in the promises of God. She is so confident in the mercy of God and the faithfulness of God that her verbs are past tense. God has done great things, extended mercy, performed mighty deeds, scattered the proud, brought down rulers, lifted up the humble, filled the hungry with good things.”

How do you hear this song?

The Magnificat has been set to music in various ways throughout the years, often to sweet and somber melodies. This past summer when I was at the Southeastern Jurisdictional Conference, they ended our time in worship by singing Canticle of the Turning, written by Catholic composer Rory Cooney in 1990.

All of a sudden the lead singer’s voice broke out across the auditorium and his voice sounded deep and persistent. Kinda like.

“My soul cries out with a joyful shout

That the God of my heart is great

And my spirit sings of the Wondrous things

That you bring to the ones who wait

You fixed your sight on your servant's plight

And my weakness you did not spurn

So from east to west shall my name be blest

Could the world be about to turn?

My heart shall sing of the day you bring

Let the fires of your justice burn

Wipe away all tears for the dawn draws near

And the world is about to turn!”

Before all the holly jolly’s and Santa baby’s, a teenage girl sang the first Christmas carol of a world about to turn.

Can you hear it?

So often we envision Mary as beautiful and meek and mild and even in our nativity plays she often doesn’t carry a speaking role. But what if we hear the Magnificat as a joyful Mary, a courageous Mary, a teenager who has been ready for change and is surprised that God has taken notice of her.

Mary is filled with hope of ancient promises being fulfilled. She is overcome with the love of God and breaks out in song.Her soul is magnifying the Lord.

So often we magnify other things. We magnify our fears. We magnify our wallets. We magnify our stuff. We magnify our work.

But Mary says “my soul magnifies the Lord, for the mighty One has done great things for me. He has remembered his promise.”

If you were to sing your own version of the Magnificat today, what might it say? What would your own lyrics be of what God has done for you and for and for those around you? Would you join in this hymn of resistance?

David Lose says singing itself can serve as its own act of resistance. He says “Gracia Grindal, one of the church’s most prolific contemporary hymn writers, started one of her Advent hymns with a line that captures this sentiment well: “We light the Advent candles against the winter light,” she penned. Not “because of,” or “during,” but “against,” reminding us that the light of Advent, like the light of Christ, is a veritable protest to and resistance of the darkness that gathers all around us.”

In 1989, several months preceding the fall of the Berlin wall, the citizens of Leipzig gathered on Monday evenings by candlelight around St. Nikolai church for prayers for peace and singing.

“In just a couple of months, their numbers grew from a little more than a thousand people to more than three hundred thousand, over half the citizens of the city, singing songs of hope and protest and justice, until their song shook the powers of their nation and changed the world. (Later, when someone asked one of the officers of the East German secret police, why they did not crush this protest like they had so many others, the officer replied, “We had no contingency plan for song.”)

When was the last time you broke out in song?

When was the last time you were so overcome with the love of God that a response bubbled up from you before you knew it, that you could barely contain it?

I used to serve with a pastor who would sometimes break out in song during his sermons. I never quite expected it and so it was something that always made me pay attention. Adalyn woke up this past week singing Away in a Manger to the top of her lungs at 5am.

Last Sunday our choir and joined together with First Methodist for a beautiful cantata. Then that night our children serenaded us. Then this past Wednesday we caroled to the residents of Indywood, Azalea, and Frankie.

Growing up, my mom would make up gift baskets and my family would all pile in the car and go caroling to a few of my dad’s elderly customers. It was only the four of us. No instrument. No fancy harmony. Just our family singing out into the night.

I have caroled quite a bit over the years. The thing about caroling is that it isn’t a stationary activity. Caroling is meant to be on the move. It is a door-to-door thing. It was always something that required me to travel out and to bring the song to those who might not be able to make it to me.

There on the edge with those who struggle to walk or to breathe or who are hungry or lonely or bereaved or sick or are losing their memory, we sing songs that like Mary’s, speak of a world about to turn. Things like:

“O come, O King of nations, bind in one the hearts of all mankind. Bid all our sad divisions cease and be yourself our King of Peace.”

“Truly He taught us to love one another His law is love and His gospel is peace Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother And in His name all oppression shall cease”

“Joy to the world the savior reigns Let men their songs employ While fields and floods rocks hills and plains Repeat the sounding joy Repeat the sounding joy Repeat, repeat the sounding joy.”

May the love of God fill us until we break out in song, until we repeat the sounding joy, and sing out into the darkness of a light that cannot be overcome, of a world about to turn.