Sermon for December 11, 2011 - Mary's Revolution

Scripture Reading for this week: Luke 1:39-56

Every year in December I have a list of movies that I try to watch before Christmas.  Since it is entirely unacceptable to watch a Christmas movie in May, I think I feel I need to get it all in now, because it will be another year before I have the opportunity again.  My list contains movies like A Christmas Story, with Ralphie longing for an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-hundred Shot Range Model Air Rifle with a compass in the stock and this thing which tells time.  Scrooged and Elf are both on the list somewhere, along with a few others.

But the movie I most associate with the season is National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.  I have watched it every year since I was a little kid.  This wonderful movie is about a man who wants his Christmas holidays with his family to be absolutely perfect.  And as I reflected on this sermon, one scene came to mind.  Chevy Chase as Clark Griswald has spent all day with his son putting lights up on the house.  When all the work is done, he calls everyone, wife, kids, parents and in-laws out for the plugging in ceremony.  A drumroll, a loud singing of “Joy to the World!” and then… Nothing.  This moment I think defines the movie.  Clark, imagining something perfect, longing to offer and to feel that sense of Christmas joy, is sadly disappointed.

This Sunday is the Sunday of Joy.  And as I prepared for today’s service I really struggled trying to figure out what joy is and where it comes from.  Is it really about getting the right present, having the perfect meal, spending time with family and loved ones?  I think those are all wonderful things, and we should not belittle them.  But if we don’t have those, are we resigned to be joyless?  Like Clark Griswald, so often we associate our joy with the world around us, some ideal vision of how things should be.  “The only way I can be happy is if….”  Our sense of worth becomes dictated by the world.  And then we fill in the blank.

In our Gospel reading for today, we read about Mary’s encounter with her cousin Elizabeth, and more than that, we hear her wonderful and joyous song, the Magnificat.  To be honest with you, as I re-read it this week, initially, it made me a little bit mad.  “He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.  He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.”  I read that.  Then I read it again.  And I thought to myself, “Really? Has God done that?“ I mean maybe occasionally, but it doesn’t take long to find hungry people in the world, it doesn’t take long to look upon the faces of the lowly.

But as I reflected on this reading, I began to get a glimmer of the joy that Mary is sharing in her song.  “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour for he has looked with favour on the lowliness of his servant, so from now on all generations will call me blessed.”  Think about who is singing these words: a country girl, who could have been stoned by Deuteronomic law.  She wasn’t just nothing in the world, she was less than nothing.  A social deviant, a misfit, an outcast.  And yet she is singing.  She is singing about how blessed she is.  She has a powerful song of joy because she has tapped into a source of joy that is beyond the world around her.  

At its heart, the joy that resonates throughout this song, is the joy that comes with a profound and embedded acceptance of grace.  This song embodies that essential component of Christianity, Grace.  Mary has done absolutely nothing to be called blessed by all generations.  Nothing.  From the perspective of the world, she is worthless, a hell-raiser who would best serve society by being stoned to death.

But she’s experienced something.  She gets it, and it lives within her.  “I might not be worth anything to anybody else.  I might deserve to be killed in the eyes of everyone I meet.  I might have no value to the world around me.  But I am worthy.  I am worthy of dignity, of compassion, of care, I have an intrinsic value simply because God says so.  Simply because God has given me the gift of having value to the world.”

That is Christ.  That is Grace.  Mary doesn’t just carry Jesus in her womb.  She carries Christ within her heart, and that is the joy she is singing of.  The joy of someone who knows there is nothing she can do to earn God’s love, because it is there, first and foremost before we do anything,  And it is that love which makes her worthy of all the value in the world.

And we fight this!  We fight this tooth and nail because it is so counter to everything that the world wants us to believe.  Kids bullying someone in the school yard because they are different; Economic systems that say some people are of more worth than others; Social systems that say anyone who does not fit into our definition of normal (by race, or gender, or sexual orientation) is of less value; Media saying you have to look a certain way in order to be considered beautiful; Religious institutions that say you need to do this or believe certain proper dogmas in order to be considered one of the saved; these are some of the weapons we use against grace.  And they are powerful.

We fight the idea of grace, because we cannot fathom it.  Because we cannot control it.  Because it doesn’t make sense.  And we have gotten very good at fighting it.  So good that the fight even begins to invade our very selves.  We begin to question our own worth, our own value. 

I have spent a tremendous amount of time considering whether or not to go to school next year.  One of the reasons I have decided to put it off was because I looked at my own motivations.  Ministry is not the most respected position anymore, and I realized a part of me longed for that “Dr.” in front of my name so that I would be seen as more valuable by the world.

We cannot comprehend that each and every person in this room is worth no more, and no less than anyone else in the world, and yet we are all worth a tremendous amount, simply by the virtue of God’s love.  That is grace.

Now be aware.  When you let this idea wash over you.  When you contemplate the ramifications of such a notion.  When you realize the world we live in and the tremendous systems that push against the very idea of Grace.  When you understand that we do not come anywhere close to loving the way God loves, because we truly cannot comprehend how it is possible.  When you do this, you begin to see cracks in the system, you begin to see gracelessness everywhere, and you will not be the same.  You will long for the Reign of Christ, and you will live a life that tries to embody it.

The Magnificat of Mary are words of a revolution.  The powerful are brought down, and the lowly are raised up.  The coming of Christ turns the world upside down.  The rich lose what they think they have, and the hungry are filled.  A life filled with the acceptance of Grace will break through the shackles of despair, of condemnation, of judgment, and will begin to sing with that worthless young girl who we call blessed. 

Everything in creation is of intrinsic value.  That is Grace, that is love, that is joy.