Second Sunday of Advent

Luke 1:26-56

Today’s scripture is a piece of the story of two women.  One of the amazing things about Judeo-Christian scriptures is that at key moments in history, women play pivotal roles.  That’s interesting to us today.  It was revolutionary in ancient times, times which were patriarchal to the utmost and women had no agency or power.  In the longer tale, first Elizabeth, an old woman without children, and then Mary, an young woman without a husband, become pregnant.  Both pregnancies are attributed to God’s action.  (In Catholic tradition and the Koran, the story is extended to Anna, the mother of Mary, who also conceives on her own.)  Old women, barren women, unmarried women – all these are among the most vulnerable in first century society.  They are economically marginalized and have no one to protect them.  They are not generally the agents of change.  Yet here they are, mothering the men who shift people’s understanding of the world.

We have a complicated relationship with these stories.  They are a part of our heritage.  We’ve been listening to them at this time of year as long as we remember.  They point to a God who intervenes for good in a broken world and give us hope.  They are also problematic because they represent a miracle which is not only unlikely, it’s scientifically impossible.  Human babies don’t happen spontaneously.  They require the DNA of two parents.  Couples we know personally talk about their miracle babies, but none of them is conceived in scientifically impossible terms. 

Some folks are comfortable with saying we have to take this on faith, and that’s a great response.  And some folks aren’t comfortable with that.  Do we really have to believe the impossible to be part of what God is doing in the world?  No.  Believe or don’t believe – both are good answers.  Because these stories were never meant to be about biology.  They were written when the biology of the process was a mystery, and they don’t address it.

These stories are about power and influence and who has it.  In the first centuries every Roman Emperor had a story about how he was conceived by a human woman and a god.  When a man became Emperor – by vote or violence – the story was soon written by those in charge of the story of Empire.  Everyone knew that these men had human fathers, but they also knew the new story of the heavenly father as well.  It wasn’t about biology, it was about destiny.  This man has the blessing and support of the gods, shown by the fact that he defeated his opponents and gained power.  He rules as a god, and the peace and prosperity of his reign is evidence of the gods’ favor.  He is a Son of God.

The stories about John the Baptizer and Jesus being miraculously conceived were written like those of the emperors, after the fact.  They weren’t history recorded by everyone who knew these men.  They appear only in some of the gospels.  They are a statement that like the emperors, John and especially Jesus had power and influence over the world.  The fact that the women involved weren’t rich and famous but were marginalized amplifies the contrast between these founders of the Jesus movement and the Roman Empire.  They are saying, “Jesus had the power to change the world as we know it.”  That part of the story we can believe because that part of the story is still an active part of our story.

Mary’s song recorded as the finale of this story explains the difference people thought Jesus made:

            God lifts up those without power and uses them for change.
            God brings down proud and powerful rulers.
            God fills hungry people with good things.
            God balances economic disparity.
            God comes to the aid of those in distress and remembers those who struggle.

There’s some poetic license in putting these words in Mary’s mouth at the beginning of her pregnancy.  They are a strong expression of what people believed to be true about Jesus after his ministry with them.  They are the hope that early communities of Jesus’ followers lived by.

We don’t hear these words in exactly the same way because we live in very different times.  Indeed, they have meant many things to various moments in history.  But they do shape what we believe and how we live in our moment.  They are a part of the reason we take action to make this world view a reality. 

Those who told these stories in Jesus’ time had no hope of overcoming or even influencing Rome.  There were stark realities in their daily lives that they couldn’t change.  Economic hardship, violence, oppression – these were givens.  But they insisted that there was another vision for life, a God-given vision, which they could live by.  So in spite of their situation, they fed people, housed people, gave people jobs, helped people grieve, found joy.  They created the vision of God’s world hidden in plain sight.

We have significantly more power and influence that our spiritual ancestors held.  We can change the world.  So when we hear these stories, they become for us a call to action.  We feed people.  100 or more of them this week.  We make sure people have electricity.  One family this week.  We drive people to school and work.  Hundreds of miles each week.  We believe that you can create a better world by living like that world exists and being part of it.

These stories also call us to use our power for good.  We call our representatives.  We advocate for policies. We vote.  I suspect we don’t agree on the details of what should happen, but we agree on the vision of what’s possible.  That vision has been shaped over time and isn’t identical to Jesus’ first-century vision.  But its parameters are the same ones voiced by Mary – lifting up those without, ending abusive power, making the world good for everyone. 

We aren’t just the people who celebrate a miraculous physical birth.  We are the inheritors of those who saw Jesus as the challenge to the abuses of Empire and did something about it.  We are the ones of believe the world can change and that something holy and good is possible.  The Christmas story didn’t start out as a pretty miracle.  It began as a radical vision of what could be if people saw things God’s way and worked together to make it so.  It’s a call to hope and a call to action.  And what it becomes is in our hands.