O Come, All Ye Faithful:And Sing a Song of Praise

Micah 5:2-5a; Luke 1:39-56

When Kelly and I learned that our firstborn was on the way, we invited her parents to dinner.  Before we left the restaurant, we gave them a car tag that was fairly popular 30-plus years ago.  It read, “Let Me Tell You about My Grandchildren.” They got the message, of course, and were thrilled.  That tag still hangs on the wall of my father-in-law’s workshop.

I read about a woman who told her parents at a Chinese restaurant.  I thought this was pretty clever. She took a pair of tweezers and carefully pulled out the fortune inside a fortune cookie.  She then carefully inserted a new fortune that she had printed.  The waiter was in on this and made sure her mother got that fortune cookie.  The fortune read, “Fall will bring a new grandchild.”  She says her parents loved it.

This was my favorite.  One woman told her husband with a grocery list.  She sent him to the grocery store with this list:  baby back ribs, baby carrots, baby peas, and a few other foods with the word “baby” in it.  The last item on the list was Gerber Food.  We men can be a little slow to catch on sometimes, but he got the message right away.

Telling exciting news is not new, of course.  In fact, that’s exactly what Mary was doing in our text for this fourth Sunday of Advent.  She announced to her cousin Elizabeth and to the world that she was expecting her firstborn child.  She sang a song of praise.  We call it the Magnificat, a Latin word meaning, “(My soul) magnifies.”  It is the first word in the Latin translation of Luke 1:47. All these years later, it is an invitation to us to celebrate the excitement of Mary and Joseph and to embrace the Good News of God’s salvation. It is an invitation to put down our smart phones for a while, turn off CNN, give a deaf ear to the political infighting, and listen beyond the news of the day to the news of the ages.  We will hear an ancient song of praise, which is still good news of a great joy for all the earth.

Mary’s cousin, Elizabeth, was the first to hear this song of praise. It appears to be a spontaneous outburst of joy from Mary, sheer delight that she had been chosen to give birth to God’s Son. It was such good news for Mary that she overlooked the grave risks. She was likely only fifteen or sixteen years old, the age most young women in their culture had their first baby.  Many died in childbirth, and many babies never saw adolescence.  Theirs was a culture that celebrated old age because old age was so rare. They knew little about diseases and effective treatments. Life in the time of Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus was hard and threatening. They were people who had mouths full of sorrow and arms full of struggle.  The news of a birth was good news, but they also knew that it came with risk.

Luke notes that Elizabeth was already pregnant with John, who would be called John the Baptist, when Mary came to visit. According to Luke, when Elizabeth heard Mary’s voice, Elizabeth’s baby leaped within her. Elizabeth was filled with the Spirit and shouted to Mary these words so familiar to our Catholic friends, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.”

Elizabeth knew.  And Mary knew.  It had been told through the ages.  One was coming from Bethlehem of Ephrathah.  He would be newborn and at the same time “from ancient days.”  He would lead God’s people and they would live securely. He would be “the one of peace,” called “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” And Mary was the servant of the Lord, the one chosen to give his birth. Oh, how blessed she was!  And here is how Mary responded:

 My soul magnifies the Lord, And my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, For he has looked with favor on the lowliness Of his servant.

  Now that’s a pretty staid, formal translation of the Magnificat.  I want you to hear the same passage from a newer translation called The Voice:

My spirit celebrates God, my Liberator! For though I’m God’s humble servant, God has noticed me.

  That’s better, but I really like how The Message presents Mary’s response.  This translation takes some liberties, but I do like it.  Here’s why:

And Mary said, I’m bursting with God-news; I’m dancing the song of my Savior God. God took one good look at me, and look what happened— I’m the most fortunate woman on earth!

Have you ever noticed that the Bible says little about happiness? Some translations take some liberties and translate the word “blessed” as “happy.” A couple of decades ago, Robert Schuller of Crystal Cathedral fame translated the beatitudes of Jesus using the word “happy” instead of the word “blessed.”  “Happy are the poor in spirit….  Happy are those who mourn….” He called them the be-happy attitudes.  While it sounds cute and probably sold well, I’m not the only one who believed that it was a poor translation. Blessedness and happiness are not the same.

Our text does not call Mary happy.  It calls her blessed.  Happiness is fleeting and dependent upon pleasurable circumstances.  Blessedness runs far deeper and does not depend upon pleasurable circumstances. 

 “Blessed are you among women,” Mary. 

Years later Jesus would use that word again.  “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” he said.  Not happy, blessed.  “Blessed are those who mourn….”  “Blessed are the meek….”  “Blessed are those who are persecuted….” Not happy.  If you want to be happy, go to your favorite restaurant or watch your favorite movie. That will make you happy, but it won’t last long.  Blessedness runs much deeper and does not depend upon a good meal or a happy movie. 

 Even given the grave risks, Elizabeth and Mary knew.  She was blessed because God’s plan for the world was unfolding through her.

  I read an article recently I found interesting.  It was by a psychologist named John Schuster.  It was titled, “When We Feel the Tears of Blessedness, We Feel Alive.”  He said that happiness and sadness can blend into what he termed poignancy.  He said it’s the feeling a father has when he walks his daughter down the aisle for her wedding.  Of course, he’s immensely proud of her, happy for her important day and her future.  But he also knows that his “little girl” is no longer his little girl.  That’s poignancy, he says.  It’s what some feel at retirement.  Your body and spirit tell you it’s time to retire, time to enjoy life, grandchildren, an extra cup of coffee in the mornings.  But it was your profession, a love, something that gave meaning to your life, and you won’t be doing it anymore.

Poignancy, he says, is another word for blessedness.  I sometimes see it at funerals.  Someone has lived a long life, a meaningful life.  Their days wound down, as they will for all of us. Their loved ones are sad, of course, but not completely.  There is something good mixed in with the sadness.  It’s not happiness.  It’s blessedness.  Poignancy.  (Psychology Today, March 29, 2017)

 A birth.  God’s plan unfolding through Mary.  Risk.  That plan ultimately included a cross.  Poignancy.  Blessedness.

This fourth Sunday of Advent is a blessed day. It is a time to celebrate the excitement of Mary and Joseph and to embrace the Good News of God’s salvation.  So let’s do put down our smart phones for a while, turn off the news, and listen beyond the news of the day to the news of the ages.  Let us hear the song of Mary and know that we too are blessed, a blessedness that is rooted in the love and grace of God.

So come, all ye faithful.  Let us sing a song of praise.

  Closing Prayer

  Do come, Lord.  Come to all who open their hearts to your love and grace.  And may we be strengthened to live the way of love and grace. Amen.