Lk 1:39-45
21 December 2003
4th Sunday of Advent
“Are We There Yet?”
“Are we there yet?” How many of you have ever heard that question being whined from the back seat of the car? How many of you have ever whined that question yourself? Are we there yet?
In my less charitable moments, I imagine that an appropriate response to that question would go something like this: “Look out the window. Do you see [and then, fill in the blank, depending on the destination]…Grandma and Grandpa’s house?…the amusement park?…the rest stop?” (While driving on the interstate, that’s one I keep a lookout for!)
Of course, that question when uttered with a whine—Are we there yet?—is less a request for information than it is a statement. It is a statement of impatience…a proclamation of longing…a declaration of desire…that a goal be reached. Geographical distance is irrelevant. This is a desire expressed in time. There’s a desire for something to happen now, or at least, very soon.
Today, on the fourth Sunday of Advent, we might ask: are we there yet? We’re encouraged, both by scripture and by the Advent season, to look for the Lord’s return—to look for that return, that presence, in our lives and in the world. We have the opportunity to not only know about Jesus—to believe certain things about Jesus—but we can know Jesus. So, are we there yet?
(By the way, knowing the Lord is what spiritual formation is all about. And even if you never come to a single one of Wellspring’s events, Banu and I are always willing to help you. That, ultimately, is our reason for being pastors. There are always administrative and programmatic things to do, but nothing is more important than that life-giving connection, that journey, with Christ.)
Today’s gospel reading is quite appropriate for a question like, “Are we there yet?” That’s because it tells the story of a visit. It’s one of the best known visits in the entire Bible: the visitation of Mary to Elizabeth. One pregnant woman comes calling on another. Of course, as we know, there is a slight twist to this story of two women with child.
We have a virgin visiting a woman who’s described by her husband as “getting on in years.” The disbelieving Zechariah says of himself simply, “I am an old man” (1:18). So even though he displays some tact in describing his wife, Gabriel lets him know that he’ll have to shut up for a while, because he doubted the angel’s message. With Zechariah mute and Joseph not in the picture, the women are at center stage. That fits in well with Luke’s agenda of demonstrating the counter-cultural nature of the gospel.
It’s been pointed out that we may even have a picture here of the first church. Mary and Elizabeth “are the ones who first hear the Gospel Word and [believe] that the messianic age has dawned with the little babe growing in Mary’s womb. They believe that the Messiah has come, the one who is Christ and Savior. They are the ones who receive the word and obey it. They are doers of the word. They are both filled with the Holy Spirit and break out into praise and joy.”[1]
What we see in these scriptures is indeed amazing, truly revolutionary, especially regarding Mary. By the standards of her society, Mary is nobody. First of all, she’s a woman. As you’ve heard before, in that culture (as in so many others), women were treated by men as little more than children. But Mary’s not simply a woman, she’s an unmarried woman. Actually, from what evidence we have about her age, today we would call her an adolescent. But whatever her exact age, she still isn’t married to Joseph. Her society would still regard her as a child.
Add to all this, the fact that Mary is poor. We learn later in chapter 2 (v. 24), when the time comes to present Jesus in the temple, that she offers a dove instead of a sheep, a provision made in the law for those who can’t afford to sacrifice a sheep (Lv 12:8). And not only is she poor, but she’s from a backward part of the country. The region of Galilee, and especially Nazareth, is considered to be the boonies.
So Mary is a poor, young, unmarried woman from the back woods. She’s a nobody from nowhere. And now, this nobody from nowhere has been presented with the option of being a pregnant poor, young, unmarried woman from the back woods. To put it quite unkindly, in the eyes of her culture, Mary is riff raff.
And that’s what’s so revolutionary. That’s what’s so shocking. God chooses this riff raff to be the means by which the Messiah enters the world. The prejudices and opinions of the dominant culture are subverted; they’re overturned. Even before he’s born, Jesus is already a scandal.
As I suggested earlier, the events of our scripture reading are prompted by a visit. Earlier in the chapter, the angel Gabriel tells the virgin Mary how it is that she’ll be able to conceive a child. Then in verse 36, Gabriel adds this: “your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren.” Of course, the son is John the Baptist. The angel seems to give the young woman some encouragement—this is no dream, you’re getting a sure offer.
It’s not until Mary sets off “with haste,” as Luke puts it, to visit Elizabeth that she indeed acts on the word from Gabriel. It’s true that she makes the courageous decision to be “the servant of the Lord,” and she says, “let it be with me according to your word” (v. 38). But it’s only when Mary takes off to see her relative that she puts her intention into motion.
From time to time, I’ve shared with you various words of wisdom implanted in me…by my mother. Thinking of Mary’s visitation, I was reminded of yet another. My mother would me that when we follow our prayer with action, we…”put wings on our prayer.” Translating that to today’s story, we might say that when Mary hurries off to see Elizabeth, she “puts wings on” her acceptance of Gabriel’s message.
Something happens in a visit that can happen in no other way. There is an immediacy, a contact, that can’t be replicated by phone, letter, or email. Still, even these serve valuable purposes. When we add the sense of God’s presence—a sense of sacrament—the transforming power of visit is even more apparent.
Last Tuesday, during the annual meeting of session and deacons, right after dinner, we played a little game that was inspired by some comments by Steve Mynes at the November session meeting. It consisted of reaching one’s hand into a bag and pulling out a card. There were 15 of these, listing specific responsibilities from the Book of Order: 5 for minister of word and sacrament, 5 for elder, and 5 for deacon. The next step was to read the task on the card and guess to which of the three it pertains. As I explained at the time, this was intended to be a fun way to learn more about the offices to which we’ve been ordained.
I also said that there would be some overlap with a number of the responsibilities, and we noticed several that were just like that. There was one, however, that especially caught my attention. It’s listed in the Book of Order under responsibilities of deacons: Minister to those who are friendless and any who may be in distress (G-6.0402). Minister to those who are friendless and those in distress. Actually, that’s something that all who claim the name of Christ are called to.
I won’t pretend that it’s always an easy thing to do. Sometimes we don’t know what to do about the friendless, the distressed. One quick answer is to just be a friend; be willing to show that someone cares. A small gesture of friendship can go a long way.
Of course, behaving like that will bring us into contact with people with whom we disagree, maybe even those with lifestyles we detest. If we could let ourselves be open to that spirit, the spirit of generosity, we would see changes. We would see miracles—in this church and in our lives. We wouldn’t need to look for gimmicks to boost the life of our church, or to enrich our own lives.
Still, I know, who has time for that? Who has time for that kind of visit? Who has time to unleash the power of human interaction—no, more than that, of Spirit-filled human interaction? We’re all so busy. Isn’t it interesting how we fill our lives with so much stuff that we often lack the time for the things that help to save our souls?
Am I being naïve? Am I being like Billy Kwan from the movie The Year of Living Dangerously, who I spoke of last week? I would imagine there are worse things to be!
In these final days of Advent, I ask that we consider what it means to welcome Jesus. We can’t do it the way that Elizabeth does in our scripture reading. (Mary, quite literally, brings Jesus to her!) But we can do it in ways even more powerful. We can welcome him in the friendless, in the distressed…even in those who annoy us. It’s for our own good to welcome Christ, since he’s there anyway!
But that leads to something even more fundamental: what does it mean to be a Christian? This is something I touched on earlier. I sense that there are many in the church who know about Jesus, but don’t know and love Jesus in a way that transforms. Knowing about Jesus leads only to dead religion! Knowing and loving Jesus leads to vibrant, energetic, joyful faith that is willing and able to let its boundaries be continually moved to welcome the least of the least. So we all must ask ourselves: do I know about Jesus? Do I know and love Jesus?
Are we there yet? Maybe not, but as we continue to learn to be transformed in Christ, we come closer to the blessing pronounced by Elizabeth. “Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord” (v. 45).