Advent III
Luke 1.46b-55
My soul proclaims God's greatness.
My spirit rejoices in God my saviour.
For you have looked with favour on your lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed.
You have done great things for me, O Most Mighty.
Hallowed be your Name!
You have mercy on those who fear you,
From one generation to another.
You took action with a strong arm.
You scattered the proud in their conceit.
You pulled the mighty from their thrones.
You raised the lowly.
You filled the hungry with good things.
You sent the rich away empty.
You come to the aid of your servant, Israel,
for you remembered your promise of mercy,
to our ancestors, Abraham and Sarah,
and to their children in every age.
Margaret Keenan was the first person to get the “the jab,” as they say in the UK. The soon-to-be 91 year-old described receiving the vaccine as the “best early birthday present.” It was a lovely moment, but then came the second recipient, an 81 year-old with the unlikely name William Shakespeare.
Twitter erupted: “They really are prioritising the elderly,” one person wrote, “this guy is 456.” Someone called it “the taming of the flu,” while another said, “I’m surprised they let William Shakespeare have the vaccine. I thought he was Bard.” I should stop. But one more: reflecting on the fame these two have gained after getting the jab, someone noted, “A plague on neither of their houses.”*
Ignoring the bad puns, it’s easy to feel joy and relief in the face of this long-awaited turn-of-events. It has a “beginning of the end” feeling to it, and somewhat perfectly timed, as we reach what are literally the darkest days of the year. If this was a seasonal film, this would be the moment for someone to shout “it’s a Christmas miracle!” And it certainly feels that way.
And beyond the feeling, some remarkable things have taken place: the early word was that vaccines can take years to develop—this one took about ten months. The early word was that finding one vaccine would be lucky—there are already three or more. Even the manufacture of doses, something that was predicted to take months or years, was started months ago, on the off-chance that the vaccine would eventually be approved.
So we praise God that we are here, waiting for the day we can get the jab, and we praise God for the gift of medicine, along with the gift of insight and imagination. God has shown us once more what’s possible when we focus all our attention on a problem. We can do something revolutionary.
Revolutionary. Revolutionary is one of those over-used words that has lost some of its power—perhaps too many hair products or exercise machines have been described using the word. When something is revolutionary—like developing a vaccine in a matter of months—it turns the existing order on its head, and it changes everything.
And the word also reminds us of political revolutions, a changing of the existing political order into something else altogether. Again, the word is often misapplied, with the most famous example being the American Revolution. For a revolution that proclaimed “all men are created equal,” there remained the bitter reality that 700,000 African-Americans were enslaved at the end of the revolution, or nearly one-in-six Americans. And this number would grow to 4,000,000 before slavery ended in 1865.
Turning to Oxford to help us understand what revolutionary truly means, we get “involving or causing a complete or dramatic change.” Like the Song of Mary:
You took action with a strong arm.
You scattered the proud in their conceit.
You pulled the mighty from their thrones.
You raised the lowly.
You filled the hungry with good things.
You sent the rich away empty.
It’s no surprise that when Latin-American theologians were trying to describe “a theology of liberation,” they pointed to Mary. Between Mary and Moses, and some early Isaiah thrown in for good measure, we begin to understand the radical nature of scripture. These three embody complete and dramatic change. For Isaiah it was “swords into plowshares,” an idea so powerful that it is carved in front of the UN headquarters. For Moses, it was literal liberation, the power of God to free God’s people. And for Mary it is predictive, a revolution that begins in Bethlehem and concludes at Calvary.
Why concludes? I say it concludes at Calvary because the cross is a once-and-for-all event, an event to reconcile us with God, to end death, and to ensure our freedom in the Spirit. The world no longer has hold over us, and we are free to live with love and mercy. But every conclusion, of course, must have a beginning: and the beginning of this revolution is God’s desire to enter the world in the most humble way possible, as a baby. And this is truly revolutionary: no strongman, no advancing army, no tactical plan. Just a baby, the most vulnerable form God could possibly assume.
But before we shift all our focus to the birth of Jesus, we would do well to remember Mary. For our Roman Catholic friends, she is the patron saint of all humanity, the Queen of Heaven, and the Our Lady of numerous locations. Our Lady of Guadalupe, as an example, is the patron saint of the Americans. And for all Christians, as declared at the Council of Ephesus (431), she is Theotokos, the Mother of God. In addition, Mary is the only woman named in the Quran—mentioned 70 times—and exalted as “the greatest of women.” Listen again to the beginning of her song:
My soul proclaims God's greatness.
My spirit rejoices in God my saviour.
For you have looked with favour on your lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed.
You have done great things for me, O Most Mighty.
Hallowed be your Name!
As prophetic utterances go, this one remains true. From her lowly station she becomes mother, guardian, guide, follower, and witness to the resurrection. She inspires and blesses all humanity, with her song of liberation and her life with God. She reminds us that whatever seems fixed, or certain, or impossible to change can be quite the opposite. And she reminds us that praise and gratitude are at the centre of a life of faith.
May God see us through the dark days ahead, and may we never lose sight of hope, with Mary to guide us, Amen.
*https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/2020/12/08/shakespeare-britain-pfizer-coronavirus-vaccine/
posted by michael jacob kooiman @ 7:57 AM
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