The Messiah Comes

CAMERA 1: FROM THE PULPIT

I was deep into research about our scripture passage today from the second chapter of Luke, this beautiful celebration between two women, Elizabeth and Mary. Their two proclamations of unabashed joy are often referred to as “Elizabeth’s Song” and “the Magnificat.”

If you have been a part of the Roman Catholic tradition, you probably recognize Elizabeth’s Song. It’s the foundation of the Hail Mary prayer: “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”

And “the Magnificat,” so called because of Mary’s opening words: “Oh, how my soul praises the Lord!” In Latin, Magnificat anima mea Dominum.

An amazing encounter, with gorgeously structured poetry, fascinating theology, and deeply profound connections to the Jewish scriptures.

I was enjoying all that research, digging in as I usually do. But I kept returning to one thought: what would it have been like to be there at that moment? What would it be like to experience their wonder and their joy?

It’s easy for us to hear these familiar stories, told over and over again each year at Christmastime, to listen to the comforting words, to bask in their hope, to rest in their promises… but to forget one important detail:

These things happened to real people. Real, living, breathing, struggling, yearning people. People just like us.

Mary, a young woman from a poor village called Nazareth, just at the beginning of her life, with marriage and children and many years still ahead of her.

Elizabeth, her older relative, with many years of marriage already behind her. Years of yearning for a child for her and her husband, years of disappointment, years of resignation.

I found myself — again and again — thinking of this encounter in our scripture. And so, this morning, I ask for your indulgence as I take a bit of poetic license to read between the lines of our story, and as, together, we imagine…

CAMERA 2: ADVENT WREATH

CAMERA 1: FROM CENTER

Even after all these months, it’s still amazes me to think of that day. My husband Zechariah had been given the honor of taking incense into the inner sanctuary of the Temple. All of his life he had trained and studied for this moment. He had rehearsed the words he would say, the actions he would take, so that when his time came to fulfill the ritual that had been handed down from generation to generation with reverence and awe, he would be ready.

I was so proud of him. My beloved husband.

My husband. I remember when we were first engaged, when our parents agreed that we would be a match. I was nervous, of course, but he seemed to be a kind man. And over our years together, I learned that he was not only kind, but faithful and loving and dedicated. My husband is a good man.

And I came to know just how good… in a very painful way. At first, I was not worried that we didn’t have a child. Many women I knew did not have children right away after marriage. But as the years passed by, and still no child, as my family, as my friends, as my neighbors started to ask questions… I began to worry.

Then I began to despair. I prayed for a child. Zechariah and I both prayed for a child. I was not ashamed to beg God, to bargain and plead.

But… no child came.

Eventually, as time flows by, it becomes obvious that that particular prayer will not be answered. And so I resigned myself.

It still amazes me that Zechariah stood by me. I know that he longed for children. He would have been the most wonderful father. But he remained steadfast, standing by my side, no matter what.

I told you. He is a good man.

And I was proud of him.

On that day when he walked through the Temple doors holding that bowl of incense, as he prepared to fulfill this holy obligation for which he had been chosen… that… that was the day when everything changed.

In that Sanctuary, an angel spoke to my husband. I know that this may be hard for you to believe, but it’s true! It’s not an everyday occurrence, meeting an angel of the Lord, but that day, in the Temple in Jerusalem, my Zechariah stood in the presence of God’s messenger.

And the news the angel shared was … astounding. The angel told my husband that I was to bear a son who would prepare the way of the Lord.

A son! A son … for me.

Now, sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself here, because I have to tell you that I didn’t know all this immediately when Zechariah returned home. You see, when he walked out of the Sanctuary, he was no longer able to speak. Apparently he had questioned the angel in a way the angel didn’t particularly appreciate, and my husband’s voice was stripped from him.

It took a while for me to understand what Zechariah was telling me. And (I don’t mind admitting this to you) even after I understood what he was trying to say, I still didn’t really understand it. I was done with hoping for a child. That hope was gone. But now… God had promised.

A son… for me.

No. That’s not right. A son, for the people. A son to prepare the way… for the Lord.

And that right there was the part that I could not make myself fully understand. The Lord. It was hard enough to believe that I could have a child, after all these long, hard years. But to know that this child would… somehow… prepare the way for the Lord?

I don’t want you to misunderstand something I said before, when I said I had been praying — that we had been praying — for a child. That was not our only prayer. Like everyone else we knew, like my parents before me, and their parents before them, we had been praying for the Messiah to come. God had promised a Savior to rescue our people. And we had been praying for the Messiah’s arrival.

And now, according to the angel, the Messiah was finally coming. In my lifetime, the Savior would arrive, and Zechariah and I were the first to know! What a blessing! And my son — oh, Lord, my son — was going to prepare the way.

But how? And when would the Messiah come?

Those questions — and so many more — have been with me all these months. And now that I am heavy with child, six months gone, my growing son moving daily within me, I finally have the answer.

And it is just too much for me to hold in my heart.

It is amazing to me to think that as I rose from our bed this morning, that I did not know what the day would hold. It seems that somehow… somehow… I should have known that this day would be different from all other days.

But I didn’t know. I just got up, and did all the things I usually did. Like it was an ordinary day.

Then, suddenly, everything changed. With just a word. “Elizabeth!”

I heard her speak my name. “Elizabeth!” And my son leapt within me. I felt a surge of indescribable joy bubble up, filling me to overflowing. I turned around to see young Mary, my cousin. And somehow… somehow… I knew. I don’t know how, but I knew! Mary was holding, in her womb, the Messiah.

Mary!

I remember so well when her mother, Anne, found out she was pregnant. I remember the fleeting moment of envy, that she should have a blessing denied to me. But that moment, it quickly passed. Then I felt only joy for Anne’s joy.

I remember when Mary was born. I wasn’t there, but not long after she arrived, I visited Anne to help with the household. Such a sweet baby, Mary was. I loved to hold her, singing her songs, washing her tiny body, watching the faces she made as she slept.

I remember her as she grew, curious and strong, funny and loving. I enjoyed her visits to Zechariah and me, and loved visiting her in Nazareth occasionally over the years.

I know well this child’s voice. This woman’s voice. My relative, my blood, my kin. Young Mary.

And now she… she bears the Savior of the world in her womb.

It is no wonder that my child jumped for joy at the sound of her voice! I turned to see her, to answer her greeting, and all that I was feeling just came spilling out of my lips. As I hurried toward her, my unwieldy six-month belly preceding me, the words poured out:

“God has blessed you above all women, and your child is blessed. Why am I so honored, that the mother of my Lord should visit me? When I heard your greeting, the baby in my womb jumped for joy. You are blessed because you believed that the Lord would do what he said.”

I said that! From these very lips that are speaking to you know. I said that: “You are blessed because you believed that the Lord would do what he said.”

I remember Zechariah reading to me from the Psalms, toward the end of that beautiful book of poetry. Those words ring now within my heart.

Joyful are those who have the God of Israel as their helper, whose hope is in the Lord their God. He made heaven and earth, the sea, and everything in them. He keeps every promise forever. He gives justice to the oppressed and food to the hungry. The Lord frees the prisoners. The Lord opens the eyes of the blind. The Lord lifts up those who are weighed down. The Lord loves the godly. The Lord protects the foreigners among us. He cares for the orphans and widows, but he frustrates the plans of the wicked. The Lord will reign forever.He will be your God, O Jerusalem, throughout the generations. Praise the Lord!

My child. Mary’s child. The fulfillment of that long-ago promise.

Oh, praise the Lord! Praise the Lord, indeed!

Amen!