Fourth Sunday of Advent Yr C Dec 19 2021

Fourth Sunday of Advent Yr C Dec 19 2021

Micah 5:2-5a, Hebrews 10:5-10, Luke 1:39-45, (46-55), Canticle 15

 

When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leapt in her womb. Elizabeth, barren and too old to conceive, Mary, unmarried and too young to have a baby, both of these women have been favored by God. Elizabeth exclaims, “This is what the lord has done for me when he looked favorably on me and took away the disgrace I have endured among my people.” Being barren in Elizabeth’s world was shameful. Shame means unworthy, and yet in this story Elizabeth is far from shamed, far from unworthy, she is favored by God. And Elizabeth recognizes Mary also as a favored one. Favor here means being seen, being regarded. 

 

Elizabeth’s and Mary’s stories are woven together, they are both favored by God. They are both seen by God, they are both regarded by God. Elizabeth stands up and claims God’s regard for herself, and then proclaims God’s regard for her young cousin Mary. Elizabeth knows the blessedness of Mary because she has experienced it herself. Elizabeth calls Mary “mother of my Lord.” And Elizabeth feels a leap of joy in her womb. These are indeed inconceivable conceptions. 

 

Being seen, being regarded by God, as both Elizabeth and Mary are, this is no small thing. One of the deepest longings of the human soul is to be seen. You see, this is what is happening in these inconceivable conceptions. God came into Elizabeth’s life when her culture judged her worthless and barren, and God lifted her up among women and she bore John, the preparer of the way. God came into Mary’s life, a young Jewish girl, and told her she would be the mother of God. And yes, Mary did know. God came low, and saw Elizabeth and Mary, regarded Elizabeth and Mary, favored Elizabeth and Mary. God comes into our midst, God comes low. God comes into the mess and the muck of our lives, our stables. God stoops, and looks into our eyes and says, you are worthy, you are favored, you are loved. 

 

God finds Elizabeth and Mary, in the temple and in the farmyard, around the family table, and God sees them. God sees Mary, young Mary, of no means, and God risks everything, and enters creation in the same way you and I did, as a baby. Before God fed us with bread and wine, body and blood, God was fed by a mother who was exhausted and unsure. 

 

Have you ever asked yourself why you are a follower of Jesus? I have, and this is why. Right here, God, the creator of all that is seen and unseen, comes low, and in the vulnerability of a baby, says to Mary, and Elizabeth, and all the women before them and after them, I see you, you are favored. And not just the women, but men too, and all the others in between. God enters the wilderness and lifts up the lowly and scatters the proud. God sees us, God loves us, God favors us. God wants to know us. 

 

Even when that is so hard to believe. Remember, faith is not reasonable because it wasn’t for reason, but for love that Jesus came. 

 

It is for love that Jesus came, and maybe we can respond like Mary, like Elizabeth. Maybe we can respond with shouts of joy, with dances of gladness. This Good News changes us forever; it changes our world forever. It is as inconceivable and unreasonable that each of us is a God-bearer as it is that Mary is a Christ-bearer. It is inconceivable that God bursts into our world. And yet, all of Advent we wait in active anticipation of the moment that God bursts into our world as a baby, and that God bursts into our world to bring our history; our lives, to fulfillment. 

 

Mary takes her place among the messengers of God’s kingdom, from Miriam and Hannah to Isaiah and Malichi, all those who were prompted by the spirit of God to call their people to repent and rejoice. Mary’s song calls us to respond in joy and praise. The gospel of Luke is filled with people singing songs of praise. I want you to open those prayer books in front of you and remind yourselves. The Benedictus, known as the song of Zechariah, Luke 1:68-79, page 92, Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel. The Nunc Dimittus, the song of Simeon, Luke 2:29-32, p. 93, Lord, you now have set your servant free, the Magnificat, the song of Mary, Luke 1:46-55, p. 91, My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord. And Luke’s gospel ends in the temple with praise, after the ascension, they returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God. The response to joy is praise. Luke gives us the words to praise. 

 

Mary has been seen by God. She has been raised a good Jewish girl. She knows her scripture, she knows her place. Saying yes to God puts her in a very awkward, precarious, and dangerous position. She is not perfect, but she is perfectly loved. God comes low to inhabit a most vulnerable creation, a baby, born from a woman of no account, in a most humble place, a barn. And Mary responds, my soul proclaims the goodness of the Lord. 

 

And she also sings about the justice God brings to God’s people with the birth of love. Mary’s song of praise is also Mary’s song of justice. God is born in a barn, to Mary, and to Joseph, who have very little, but who say yes to this love. Mary knows that this life will be filled with heartache that will give birth to God in our midst. God favors Mary, God sees Mary. Saying yes to God makes this life joyful, but not easy. 

 

God sees you too, God loves you too. What is your Magnificat? What is your response to God’s magnificent love? I find my Magnificat contained in a Christmas Hymn,

 

O Holy Night!

The stars are brightly shining

It is the night of the dear Savior's birth!

Long lay the world in sin and error pining

Till he appear'd and the soul felt its worth.

A thrill of hope the weary soul rejoices

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!

 

May you say yes with Mary, may you trust that you have found favor with God and recognize yourself in the mirror of God’s love, may your soul cry out with a joyful shout that the God of your heart is great.

 

Amen.

Fourth Sunday in Lent Yr A March 22 2020

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Fourth Sunday in Lent Yr A March 22 2020, second week of confinement due to COVID-19

1 Samuel 16:1-13, Ephesians 5:8-14, John 9:1-41, Psalm 23

Imagine yourself as one of the disciples, walking down the street and into the marketplace with Jesus. It’s a noisy, hot and busy place, everyone gathers, does business, sits in the shade drinking the original chai, that is tea, black and strong. Actually, that’s everyone with status and power. But the marketplace is also the place where the poor, the crippled, the blind, go to beg. Jesus saw a blind man, and stops. Rather than giving thanks for the miracle of sight, the first thing out of the mouth of the disciple who asked is, Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind? And Jesus’ answer is that this man’s blindness is not due to his parents’ sin or his own sin. In fact, to Jesus, this is not about sin at all. Many people of Jesus’ time thought that a physical ailment was do to you sinning or inheriting your parents’ sin. But for Jesus it’s not really about sin at all; it’s about sight and seeing.

Jesus heals this blind man. Here is a man who has just had his sight restored, truly a miracle, and all the disciples can talk about is whether this man is the man who used to sit and beg. They really can’t quite place him, even after he says who he is, even after all the years they’ve probably walked by him in the marketplace. They want to take him to his parents’ house so that his parents can identify him, and then his parents don’t seem to be overjoyed at the miracle either, it seems they don’t want much to do with their son. 

Eventually the conversation turns to who the man is who healed the blind man, and the blind man says, “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes.” It is an astonishing thing that they don’t know who Jesus is; and, that Jesus healed this man who they all know was blind. They just don’t believe him. 

I think this is a story about who is really blind; it is a story about seeing and not seeing. Jesus saw a man blind from birth. The disciples looked right through the blind man, they had seen him sitting in the same place for years, but had never seen him. When Jesus healed the blind man, the blind man saw Jesus for who he really is, the One who is from God. The Pharisees could neither see the blind man, nor could they see that the one who healed the blind man is the One who is from God. The blind man is the one who sees, the disciples and the Pharisees are the ones who are blind.

What is it we are blinded by? What is it that is right in front of us that we don’t see? All of us are born blind in one way or another. Some of us have blindness of body: a crippling disease, cancer, diabetes, or bad bones. Some of us have blindness of heart, and that is a terrible blindness. The blind of heart can’t love another beyond a superficial level and usually can’t even love themselves. The blind of heart often live lives corroded with addictions to material things, possessions, and work, to cover up the empty hole. And worst of all is blindness of the soul, which wraps all the rest of life in gloomy darkness.

Or maybe we are blind to our own self-indulgence. The messages we constantly get are messages of possession of things and people, and consuming things, and yes people. Competition for our dollars spurs networks to charge millions of dollars for seconds of advertising time, advertising that forms us into people who believe that the aim of our life is to acquire more, to have bigger, better, newer.

Or maybe we are blind to our own pessimism. This culture of fear we live in has a tendency to take our hope away. Sometimes it is difficult to see who we really are, people who are claimed and marked by God, delight of God’s life. Perhaps we are blind to the pain of a neighbor’s sorrow, or the loneliness of a child, or the needs of a spouse. Perhaps we are blind to the other who is different, whose life seems so foreign to our own, that we just don’t understand. Sometimes we are so wrapped up in making a living, pursuing the good life, or running from our fears that we just don’t see. 

And now we are living in this very peculiar time of blindness, we are encouraged not to see each other, not to be with each other so that we may contain this disease that spreads so rapidly. Because we cannot be with each other we yearn to really see each other. I wonder if not being in one another’s presence today, will improve our ability to really see each other when we are finally able to be present to one?

But Jesus notices our blindness. Jesus sees. Jesus invites us to see. Jesus invites us to see with our very blind eyes, with our wounds and brokenness. Jesus uses our weaknesses as grace. Today we have this gift of seeing each other in really new ways. Seeing both need and generosity. Seeing each other through the gift of technology.

I wonder if we are being called to be healed of our own blindness, and we prepare for celebrating the life, death and resurrection of Jesus in the bread broken for us, and we celebrate that through Jesus we come to see others, all creation, and ourselves as wonderful gifts. This is the Good News that shines brightly through our blindness. The Good News that Love wins. Jesus has offered us a new view of life, death and resurrection. We have been called and claimed, but not because of distinctions, achievements, family lineage, or personal attractiveness, not because God sees us as any more beautiful or deserving as anyone else. God’s love is blind to such plastic categories. 

We have been called and claimed despite our tendency to blindness. We have been called and claimed even though we trip over those we cannot see. We have been called and claimed despite looking directly at someone, and not seeing who they are, their pain and suffering, or their joy. 

But, in this new view of life, we recognize that life, death and resurrection mean that we must look at people in the eye, and that we take a new look at ourselves. It takes time to see clearly, and we must be patient in our recovery.

Our vision is changed in these days. We see one another through our screens and our windows. Can we see that each and every one of us is a wonderful creation of God. Can we see a person who is hurting and lonely just like us; and blessed and joyful, just like us. In this peculiar time when we are apart from one another, when our connections are through Facebook live-streaming, and zoom, can we see one another as blessed children of God? We are called to connect in new ways, and the stories we are seeing in our news feeds are stories of healing, music in Italy, pollution lifting in Japan, the waters of Venice becoming clean.

It will be some time when we populate these pews again, but remember, this building I am in today is not the church. The church is you, all of you out there, seeing with the eyes of kindness and mercy the need of your neighbor. This feels a lot like loss, loss of mobility, loss of going wherever we want whenever we want, loss of being together. And yet, maybe it’s not so much a loss, but it’s a gift of sight. Let us see one another, really see one another. Let is be so.