"Leap for Joy" (Fourth Sunday in Advent)

Luke 1:39-55

39 In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, 40 where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. 41 When Elizabeth heard Mary's greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit 42 and exclaimed with a loud cry, "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. 43 And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? 44 For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. 45 And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord." 46 And Mary said, "My soul magnifies the Lord, 47 and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, 48 for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; 49 for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. 50 His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. 51 He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. 52 He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; 53 he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. 54 He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, 55 according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever."

His name is Ronnie Martin. I’ve known him all my life, but I’m pretty sure if I tried I could count the number of times I’ve actually laid eyes on him, and I bet I could count the number of actual conversations I’ve had with him on one hand. I’ve actually always known him as “Uncle Ronnie;” he’s married to my dad’s oldest sister (my aunt) Gail. Uncle Ronnie is one of those kinfolks you only see once or twice a year—at Christmas and maybe a funeral. I’d see Aunt Gail and my cousins Jason and Marie from time to time, usually on a random Sunday afternoon at Grandma’s house, but I only remember seeing Uncle Ronnie at Christmas. I don’t think he is a particularly unsociable person, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t hold any kind of grudge against our family. I just only remember seeing him at Christmas. If we ever asked about him, Aunt Gail would just always say he was busy, likely working somewhere over in Georgia. He was just one of those relatives you didn’t see often, just at Christmas.

I’m willing to bet a lot of us have family members like that, those folks we only see at Christmas, at our usual family gatherings. It’s as if they’re taken down out of the attic with the Christmas decorations, put on display to remind everyone that they’re still part of the family, and then it seems as if they’re stowed away, put back in a box until next Christmas when we’ll see them again. You know, I kind of feel that way about Mary, like she’s that member of our family who only comes around at Christmas.

I mean, think about it: as Protestants (and particularly Baptists) do we really spend any time with Mary outside of Christmas? Yeah, sure we give her a nod some Easters because we have to recognize that she was there at the cross (sort of like how we may see that other relative in the chapel during another family member’s funeral), but for the most part Mary remains relatively out-of-site/out-of-mind until Christmas comes. And when Christmas get here…well, we all get a little more Catholic, don’t we? We set images of Mary all over our houses—some of us even display her out in the yard. Even here in this Baptist church we have figurines of Mary placed in various spots throughout the building. We sing songs about Mary, especially songs asking her if she knew what was going on. We read the stories from Scripture about how Mary was visited by an angel, how it told her about the Son she would conceive by the power of the Holy Spirit, how she traveled with her betrothed husband Joseph because they had to register for a census, how there was no room at the inn so she had to give birth in a manger in a barn out behind the place, and then—after hearing angels sing and witnessing shepherds come to adore her newborn son, we hear how Mary “pondered all these things in her heart.”

When our relative Mary comes to visit at Christmas, we get caught up pretty good, don’t we? But I think we can miss a little something in all the tinseled images of Mary that come with Christmas. Sure, we know all of that stuff about the angel Gabriel, about Joseph and the trip made on a donkey, about Bethlehem, the manger, the heavenly host, the shepherds and all that singing, but is that the full picture we have of Mary, simply a contemplative vessel used by God in order to bring Christ into this world? Is that all we know of Mary? Is that all we want to know about her? Maybe that’s why she only comes around at Christmas, because we haven’t mad the effort to really get to know her. Well, I think the passage before us can help.

You see, we know the story leading up to this passage: those verses tell us how Gabriel came to Mary, to tell her about her pregnancy and the son she was to bear. In fact, verse 38 (the verse prior to the first verse of our text) tells of Mary’s acceptance of the angel’s words: "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word." We also know what comes after our text in the second chapter of Luke’s gospel, for that’s the passage that is most often read at Christmastime, the story of Mary and Joseph going to register for the census, Mary giving birth to Jesus in a manger, etc. Truth be told, most of us probably have at least heard the text we’ve read this morning before, about John leaping in Elizabeth’s womb at the sound of Mary’s voice, and Mary’s song (the Magnificat), which is probably best known in its Latin version, set to music by Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach (the son Johann Sebastian Bach). But I wonder if we’ve ever really given any thought to what’s actually happening in this text. For instance, why did Mary go “with haste” to see Elizabeth after being visited by Gabriel?

To be honest, at first I thought Mary was running to tell Elizabeth the good news, that Mary was expecting. I sort of pictured Mary running over to Elizabeth’s house with the sonogram print in one hand and “It’s a boy!” cigars for Zechariah in the other. I guess I imagined Mary hoping to sit down with Elizabeth to pick out patterns and colors for the nursery, to set dates for baby showers, and to plan a “gender reveal party.” But then I thought a little more about it. After all, while I’m sure Elizabeth was the kind of friend, the kind of close relative Mary would want to celebrate such good news with, so was also the kind of friend Mary could turn to when she was unsure, worried, or even frightened. And I can imagine Mary was frightened by the prospect of her unexpected pregnancy.

I hope you have a friend like that. I hope we all can be a friend like that, that sort of friend we can call with good news before we tell anyone else, that kind of friend we can call at one in the morning when our doubts and fears seem to nearly choke us in our sleep. We all need friends like that—to be friends lie that, because it’s impossible to make it in this world alone, and it’s impossible to live the life of God’s kingdom alone.

Mary was a betrothed teenager—not fully married, but more than engaged. She lived in a time in history when the infant mortality rate was high and the likelihood of a mother dying in childbirth wasn’t as rare an occurrence as it is today. She was going to carry this child in a day before prenatal care, before birthing suites and epidurals. Perhaps most troubling of all, if Mary was going to carry this child to term it wouldn’t take long for folks to do the math and figure out that Joseph wasn’t the father. Mary wasn’t going to be the latest star of “16 and Pregnant,” she would likely be called out for her apparent infidelity and stoned to death or cast out of the community. So I imagine when the shock of the angel’s presence and annunciation wore off, panic and anxiety set in, so Mary beat a path to Elizabeth’s door.

Once Mary arrives at Elizabeth’s she is met with prophetic words of encouragement and comfort: "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." Elizabeth’s words are spoken before Mary has a chance to say much more than “Shalom.” It’s John’s joyful leap at the sound of Mary’s voice that prompts the Spirit-filled proclamation from Elizabeth; Mary doesn’t have to tell her what’s going on—the Holy Spirit has spoken to Elizabeth, and she speaks words of encouragement and blessing to Mary. It’s after these words from Elizabeth that Mary breaks forth in that prophetic song, that song that sings of God’s putting right-side up this upside down world, that song that sings of the rich and powerful being brought down and the poor and lowly being raise up, that song that afflicts the comfortable and comforts that afflicted. It is after Mary finds encouragement and confirmation from Elizabeth that she sings this song, a song that defines this in-breaking of God’s kingdom, this incarnation of the Almighty in the Son Mary is going to bear. It’s after Mary is reassured that she is not in this alone, that God is in fact working through others with her that Mary begins to live in to the reality of God’s calling and the life of shared faith that defines the kingdom of God.

As we visit with Mary this Christmas, before we put her away with the rest of the decorations, before we resign ourselves to only visiting with her once a year, I think it’s important to take this lesson from her: in the great work of God and God’s kingdom, you will be called to do extraordinary things. Some of those things may excite you, and many of those things may overwhelm and frighten you. Do not fear, for God has placed people in your life who are there to encourage you, those who are there to leap for joy when you tell them of what God is calling you to do, those whom God has called to join you in this shared life of the kingdom. Just as God called Mary to bear the Son, God calls us all to bear the good news of that child to the world, to show others the love of God evident in a life filled with that love. Just as John leapt in Elizabeth’s womb at the sound of Mary’s voice—a voice filled with the Holy Spirit—may others leap for joy when they hear your voice, when they experience the Spirit of God in you. This Christmas, as you celebrate the birth of Christ, may Christ be born anew in your heart. May the Spirit of God fill you as you hear God’s voice calling you to the work of God’s in-breaking kingdom, and may you know that God hasn’t called you to do it alone. May you find those encouraging voices in your life that help you along on this journey of faith. May you be one of those voices yourself to someone else on the journey. May you take this Christmas as a time to remember the calling of God on your own life and leap for joy at the good news of Christ’s coming kingdom. Amen.