“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 us have ever whined that question? Are we there yet?
In my less charitable moments, I imagine an appropriate response to that question: “Look out the window. Do you see (and fill in the blank, depending on the destination)… Grandma and Grandpa’s house?… the amusement park?… the rest stop?” (When 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 privilege to not only know about Jesus—to believe certain things about him—but to know Jesus. So, are we there yet?
The gospel reading in Luke 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 visit 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 described by her husband Zechariah as “getting on in years.” She gives birth to the baby who will become John the Baptist.
It’s been suggested we may even have a picture 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.”
I must confess, I think that description might be a tad premature. I’m not so certain they had that full awareness. But I might be wrong.
What we see in these scriptures is indeed amazing, truly revolutionary, especially regarding Mary. By the standards of her society, Mary is nobody, more or less. First of all, she’s a woman. I imagine 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 pregnancy would have raised eyebrows and set tongues a-wagging.
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, she offers a dove instead of a sheep, a provision made in the law for those who can’t afford a sheep for sacrifice (Lv 12:8).
And not only is she poor; she’s from a backward part of the country. The region of Galilee, and especially Nazareth, is considered to be the boonies. That’s why elsewhere Nathanael asks the question: “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” (Jn 1:46).
So Mary is a poor, young, unmarried woman from the back woods. She’s a nobody from nowhere. And now, this nobody from nowhere is 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 (at least the people whose opinion counts), Mary is riff raff.
And that is what’s so revolutionary. That is what’s so shocking. God chooses this riff raff to be the means by which the Messiah enters the world. 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. That’s actually the visit that sets the stage for everything which follows.
It’s not until Mary hurries off to visit Elizabeth that she indeed acts on the word from Gabriel. It’s true 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.
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, email, instant messaging, whatever. In-person visits, as we know, have taken a hit in the past two years.
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.
But that leads to something even more fundamental: what does it mean to be a Christian? There are many in the church who know about Jesus, but don’t know and love Jesus. 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.
Harry Emerson Fosdick, early twentieth-century pastor, commented on vibrant faith. During World War 1, he wrote that we “cannot live without faith because [our] relationship with the future is an affair not alone of thought but also of action; life is a continuous adventure into the unknown.”
Remember when he wrote this. The Great War, the war to end all war, was raging across Europe and other parts of the world. Who could possibly know what the aftermath would look like? I don’t want to be simplistic (I really don’t), but the hope in Christ provides a foundation which can help endure anything. That has been the testimony of believers throughout history who went through distressing times at the societal level.
Energetic faith also displays valor. On that, Fosdick continued, we “cannot live without faith because the prime requisite in life’s adventure is courage, and the sustenance of courage is faith.” The Christian faith requires courage.
At the personal level, can we imagine being in a situation that required any more adventure into the unknown than Mary’s? Can we imagine being in a situation that required any more courage than Mary’s? Recall what I said before about her station in life.
Nonetheless, this young woman will be the mother of God. In Greek, she is called theotokos. This might be confusing to those unfamiliar with the word. It doesn’t mean anything divine about Mary. She isn’t a goddess or one to be worshipped. Theotokos simply means “God-bearer.” It is a statement about the one in her womb, the one to whom she will give birth. She is carrying the one who is divine. Jesus, the infant in her womb, is also God.
The God-man will be born, not from a woman in an exalted position—not from one accustomed to royal surroundings (although that would be incredible enough!), but from a poor virgin.
That would truly be an adventure into the unknown, truly one that would require immense courage.
Have we ever had such a visit? Clearly, I’m not talking about bringing the messiah into the world. That has already been done. I would say we have indeed had such a visit. We’ve had it many more times than once. As I wondered earlier, the Lord has come calling on us. The Lord is knocking on the door. Have we opened the door?
Have we opened the door to others? Here is a good and possibly uncomfortable question: have we gone out of our way to open the door?
The Lord comes to us in those who desperately need our help. As the book of Revelation says, “Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me” (3:20). Who do we invite as our dinner guest? (I told you this would be uncomfortable!)
["Knocking at the Door" by He Qi]
And yet, we also need to shut the door to certain things. Here is the first verse of the hymn, “Lord, I Have Shut the Door.” “Lord, I have shut the door, speak now the word / Which in the din and throng could not be heard / Hushed now my inner heart, whisper Thy will / While I have come apart, while all is still.”
I won’t pretend that I don’t have plenty of work to do on these revolving doors. I still have much to learn about welcoming the visit of Jesus.
Are we there yet? Maybe not, but as we continue to learn how to know and love 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).
 Harry Emerson Fosdick, The Meaning of Faith (New York: Association Press, 1917), 3
 Fosdick, 4.