A Sermon for the Fourth Sunday in Advent
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Lutherans don’t really know what to do with Mary, the mother of our Lord. I think most of us want to like her but there’s an anti-Roman Catholic streak in Lutheranism that complicates this desire. In our part of the world here in New York, many Lutherans are former Roman Catholics and they recall a Marian devotion that dominated so much of their religious upbringing. There are other Lutherans who have no Roman Catholic background but nevertheless were reared on some old fashioned anti-Roman catechesis. Those who don’t fall in either category are probably indifferent towards Mary.
On some level we may be thankful for Mary insofar as she was a vessel for our savior, but that is where it stops. We might find it odd that she appears later in Jesus’s life—especially sans Joseph (emphasized by our obsession to answer the question, “Where is Jospeh?”). We don’t know what to do with Mary and we might feel it’s best if we just tip our cap to her and move on. But is there more to Mary? And if so, do I have to be a Roman Catholic in order to appreciate her?
The scriptures are resplendent with the singing of God’s chosen— the psalms, Hannah’s song in 1 Samuel 2, Moses’ song in Exodus 15, and Solomon’s Song of Songs collection, to name just a few—but of all the people in scripture, it is Mary who sings us a brand new song. Mary’s Magnificat becomes the song of songs in all of scripture because Mary’s song marks the dawn of a new day. Everything that God was up to in the life of his people Israel reached a pinnacle in this encounter between Mary and her older cousin Elizabeth. Elizabeth, mother of John the Baptist, greets Mary by acknowledging her prominence in the story of salvation—and the great forerunner leaps in her womb. Then Mary responds with the most sublime song the world has ever heard. Mary’s Magnificat sings us into a new world; from this point forward the world could not be the same.
Much of what we focus on when it comes to Mary—her youth and virginity—come together on this point. The world could not be the same because the Lord was doing a brand new thing through this Mary. This is not a story about a concupiscent pagan deity taking on an unsuspecting mortal—this is the story of God rescuing his people through an embryonic beginning inside an impoverished young woman. For centuries God’s people—together with the creation itself—were looking for when God would finally act. When, where, and how would the one who caused all things to be show up? In Mary we get our answer. God would begin the rescue of humanity from inside a virgin woman’s womb—new creation through God’s Word alone.
Mary sings us a new song because only Mary was called to this work. The prophets and the patriarchs may have carried the Word upon their lips, but only Mary carried the Word upon her breast. There are no kings in scripture who bore a bigger responsibility than the woman who bore the king of kings. Not even the great apostles carried with them this greatest vocation. Lutherans do ourselves a disservice when we diss the service of this woman due to anachronistic animosity towards Rome. There is only one woman who while carrying the Lord of life sang about the reversal of creation’s catastrophe. We can give into the desire to like her—to love her—and there doesn’t need to be anything complicated about it. Mary is the come-to-life symbol of humanity’s long vigil for redemption. In faith we wait for her son and, being the first to believe in him, she shows us the way. This woman is no mere prop in the story—the story is birthed by her.
Mary was there when the Spirit spoke the incarnation. Mary was there when the Son of God was a newborn in her arms. Mary was there to watch her son grow up. Mary was there when he took on his ministry. Mary was there when this son of her’s died. Mary was a witness to the resurrection—and Mary was there when the Spirit of her resurrected son visited the upper room. Mary sings us this new song because only Mary was called to this work. Mary’s presence in Jesus’s life does not make her co-redeemer, but let’s show a little respect to the woman who taught the redeemer how to tie his shoes.
Mary’s Magnificat is a song that puts the powers and principalities on notice. God in Christ throws down the mighty from their thrones and lifts up the lowly. It’s Mary’s son who fills the hungry with good things and dismisses the rich. Through Jesus the proud in heart are scrambled by their thoughts. Humility peaks for humankind at the arrival of Jesus. God’s mercy to his people is on full display: Jesus forgives sins, heals the sick and possessed, raises the dead, and preaches his gospel to the poor. The Son of God spoke these promises to Abraham long ago but he makes good on them in our midst as Mary’s son. Mary sings her new song because her son—and none other—is the crucified and risen Lord of creation. Christ reigns at the right hand of God the Father; the powers and principalities are not only put on notice—they are the footstool of Mary’s child.
The last enemy placed under the feet of Jesus is death. Mary watched as it appeared death placed her son beneath its feet, but his death redeemed the world. Jesus’s death is never far from us in Advent, it’s the death of Christ that inspires Mary’s song. The passion of Mary’s son would pierce her own soul, but from the depths of her pierced soul she sings a new song that anticipates the new creation. The time between Jesus’s ascension and his return is time spent on the precipice of something new. This precipice is perceived within our own pierced souls—sin, suffering, and death hunt us all day long but we know the day is coming when Mary’s son will cut down death and renew all things.
Each year on the fourth Sunday in Advent we return to the story of Mary’s pregnancy and each year we stand on the brink of deliverance. Immediately we may think of Mary’s deliverance from birth pains, but Mary’s Magnificat directs us to see the pains in creation. The stress and strain of creation does not simply give witness to sin and death—it especially testifies to the return of Christ. Christ came once to defeat the powers and principalities and their continued existence post-defeat is a signpost for the resurrection of all flesh. The day of resurrection is coming for us because the day of resurrection has already come for Jesus. If by one human all died, then by one human all will live. Eve gave birth to Cain, but Mary gave birth to Christ.
The Magnificat is the clarion call to God’s promise for new life. And new life comes to us by only one way—Mary’s son.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
