A few weeks ago when I looked at the suggested lectionary readings for this Sunday, I was excited because the Hebrew Scripture came from Micah, one of my favorite books, and of course the Lectionary Gospel was Luke, with its wonderful birth narrative that we all have been apart of this morning. Then my happiness was subdued when I read what the suggested verses of the Gospel were. These verses are referred to as “The Magnificate” or as some of us Protestants, who grew up in Roman Catholic neighborhoods, call it “Mary’s Song”. Oh, no, I thought. I’m so unfavorably biased with these verses, having heard them quickly spoken from the lips of my childhood playmates, as they talked, way too much for this person raised in a Calvinist home, about Mother of God, Holy Mother, Adoring Madonna, and Holy Mother, Blessed is the fruit of your womb. As a teen raised with good Sunday school curriculum regarding both the Bible and the History of Christianity, I learned how the veneration of Mary came late in organized Christianity. I also learned how the focus on Mary as the obedient servant of God equipped some early church leaders with a tool to serve as a model for females to consider their ability and willingness to bear children as defining their identity and worth. My Protestantism was of little help. It was almost as though Protestants had adopted a “hands off the Mary thing”. As a young woman I puzzled over my friends’ weddings when the bride would place a bouquet near a statue of Mary. And correct or incorrectly, I was told on more than one occasion that this was done as an act somehow associated with the hopes and promises of having children.

So I pondered how I would feel if I never had children or felt that it was best not to have children. What did that do with my identity with Mary and my worth as a female? And this pondering has been tucked away as I dabbled in Feminist Theology    and    Liberation    Theology.    Then   something unlocked my difficulty in rethinking and reimaging Mary. It came unexpectantly and recently. The Spiritual Formation group of the denomination puts out a small newsletter. The last issue was about Mary…and I almost tossed it. But perhaps the Spirit of Advent the spirit of expectation nudged me to scan it, and I read these words written by a woman who was reviewing a book about Mary:

 “Growing up Presbyterian in the South, I never saw much of Mary. She showed up at Christmas, of course…cradling the infant Jesus in her arms. But for the rest of the year she was pretty well absent. Then, when I was eleven, my family spent several months in Italy and Mary was everywhere. Churches were named for her, Streets were named for her. She held Jesus close as an infant, and she held his broken body as it was taken down from the cross.”

That was it…rather than the mother Mary; I needed to explore the sister Mary, moving from Mary as being a model for motherhood to being a model for discipleship. Because that’s what she was…maybe she was the first disciple in what was to become the faith of Christianity.

As we heard the intense longing for a savior in the verses Melinda read from Micah, we feel the impassioned plea for God to give hope to the hopeless.  And we know that the Hebrews waited over 700 yrs. from Micah to the birth of the child Jesus. And in that time of longing for things to be as great as they once were, longing for leaders who were as strong as the by then fabled King David, longing for a way to keep focus on the faith that the prophets spoke of, longing as groups after groups were led away from their midst, … we look at Mary and how God spoke to her and her response among these people looking for that life of with longing.

Mary was a young Jewish female in a time where the roles of Jewish women were diverse: many were powerless, but some  were  leaders  in  the  synagogues,  some were legally disadvantage, yet some were business women. Who was she? Was she eventually part of the equality-among-gender movement that was in the very early church? The Gospel describes her in the birth narrative as a pondering person and person who learns in silence. Learning in silence is good but these verses; this song is not one of silence.  This Song, this Magnificat is music of liberation: music of liberation on behalf of the marginal, the exploited. Music that talks of God’s deliverance from systemic injustice, political rulers, and arrogant leaders. It’s the music of the transformation of social order the same old same old of rich get richer, the poor get poorer. Music that focuses on a God who walks with those who are hurting. Mary’s words are the music of hope. The hope that is contained in the longing of Micah.

The disciple Mary, was there at Jesus’ birth, but she was also there in Cana when he turned the water into wine. In fact she was not only there but she was the one who affirmed that he could be of help and should be followed in his directions. She was there when Jesus seemed to have a more expansive and inclusive definition of family when he pointed out: that disciples were his mother, brothers, and sisters.  She must have traveled some of the time with the group of followers because she was in Jerusalem. Jesus told the disciple he loved to take care of her has he hung on the cross.….. She was there when he died. Later the book of Acts tells us that she was there in Jerusalem with the disciples as they gathered in the upper room trying to organize the early Church.

Mary’s music of discipleship was the music of “Being Present”. Being there…through the expectation of what will come, through the unfolding of life itself, and through the anguish of death… Mary didn’t say “this is more than I bargained for”, “I need to take a break from the stress of being a disciple”, “It’s too far and there are so many other things to do”, or “I’m getting nothing from this being a disciple”.  She was there whether it was comfortable or not.

The great educator and mentor of Dr. King, the Rev. Howard Thurman said:

When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among brothers and sister,
To make music in the heart.

This was Mary’s response to God, her model, her identity…From her heart…This was Mary’s music.
 

What a beautiful Christmas pageant and sermon this morning.  What a blessing to be here today, submerged in the essence of Christmas.  I must admit to you though, that I was a bit nervous taking on the liturgical duties for today.  Not only because this is such a special Sunday, but also because this is a somewhat difficult time of year for me personally.  Today would have been my mother’s 60^th birthday, but she died when she was just 50 years young.  So, I wasn’t certain that I would even come to worship today, but then I thought, “what a wonderful way to honor the date of her birth”.  Next thing I know, I’m asking Faye if I can take a few moments of worship to honor and lift up all of those who are trying so hard to get through this time.  I was reminded of the “Blue Sunday” services that I had participated in the past.  A “Blue Sunday” service is one where you are invited to feel the sadness, loneliness and heavy heartedness that the holidays can bring.  But I didn’t want to speak only of my experience.  I wanted the voices of all those who are hurting to be heard.  So I wrote this prayer in the first person.  I wrote it for any of you who may be able to relate, and for those who are not here today because it hurts too much.  So I invite you to listen, to cry, to really feel whatever it is that you are feeling.  Reach out, if you want to.  Hold the hand of the person sitting next to you, in front of or behind you.  But send your loving energy out and up.  Let it fill the room.  Let us be in prayer:

Compassionate God of peace and comfort,

I know that this is the holy time of Christmas.  But for me, this is the “longest night”.  I am blue, and my heart does not feel as though this is the “most wonderful time of the year”.

You see, I am frightened because I lost my job recently, and I don’t know how I will provide food or housing for my family, much less a Christmas tree or gifts to put under it.

I am an innocent child living in a perpetual cycle of violence.  Domestic violence has been the only constant in my short life.  My Christmas wish is for one night of not being afraid.

I am grieving, Lord.  My partner has died and I feel so alone – even when I’m in a crowd of people.  I do not want to think about tidings of comfort and joy.

I am tired, O God, for my body is riddled with disease and I do not know what will happen to my family when I am gone.

I am a soldier, surrounded by sand in a foreign land.  I miss my family and my home.  My thoughts are now consumed with survival and this nightmare ending soon.

I am a parent and my child has been called away to fight in a war that I cannot understand.  I do not wish to sing, or to greet others with the happiness of the season.  I only want my child to come home, safely.

I am exhausted from battling the cycles of chemical dependency.  I never dreamed my life would end up so empty.  Where did I lose control and why, why must this time of year be so difficult? 

I am so confused, Creator God.  I am in love.  But there are those who tell me that I am sinful for desiring an honest, loving relationship with another woman.  And they say that I cannot be both, gay and a Christian.  I am beginning to doubt…am I even worthy of celebrating this Holy night?

I am a mother in Zimbabwe.  I am infected with HIV, and already I have lost two of my babies and my sister to AIDS.  I need a miracle Sweet Healer, for I am losing the energy to fight this.

Gentle, patient, healing God, hear these prayers and all of those spoken only in the hearts of those who hurt, those who grieve and struggle through this time of year.  Bring to them comfort.  Allow them see the dawn to their own longest night.  Restore their hope - the hope that was given to the world when the Christ child was born.

We long to be conduits of your unconditional love, but our hearts are heavy and cracked.  We have forgotten that it is only when they have cracked, that your awesome light can shine in and illuminate the dark spaces of our souls.

It is in the name of the Christ child that we pray, Amen.