While I never made an official announcement at the beginning of this Advent season, you may have seen in our bulletin or email, that during this time we are using different texts than we normally do. Our lectionary is the selection of readings that we, and many other Christian denominations, use each week. These readings were selected by a committee of people who hoped that Christians would have a shared experience of the Bible, if they were to read the same passages from week to week. If you were with us two years ago, you may know that we used The Women’s lectionary for a bit, which we use again this year. The Women’s Lectionary, translated and first published in 2021 by the Rev. Dr. Wilda Gafney, is meant to fill in some of the stories that have been left out of our regular lectionary, particularly those in the Bible that have to do with women. As we take in this lectionary, you will be exposed to stories that feature women—ones you might know and ones you might not. This does not mean that everything to be gleaned from these stories now will only be relatable to women, just as the stories we hear of men don’t relate just to men. But our text today is a really good example of why a lectionary that slows down and allows us to dwell longer in the stories that feature women, is so important. Typically, this story of the visitation of Mary and Elizabeth is combined with Mary’s powerful recitation of her Magnificat. These are two crucial, and yet very different and very important stories, that we tend to smush together. Next week we will hear Mary’s Magnificat as it’s entirely own reading. Today, we hear of the quiet, powerful celebration that these two women have together that precedes Mary’s revolutionary words.
We have heard in the past two weeks that both Elizabeth and her cousin Mary are pregnant; both by pretty miraculous means. Elizabeth is old, and has been hoping for a child for a long time. Her husband, Zechariah, is told by Gabriel that she will carry a child, who we will learn is to become John the Baptist. Mary has been approached by Gabriel as well, inviting her to join in the miracle pregnancy and birth of Jesus, the son of God.
Our Gospel today picks up exactly where last week’s left off; Mary has just said “Here I am, let it be with me, according to your word”, and the angel has left. We now hear that she travels “with haste” to see her cousin Elizabeth, who has been with child for 6 ish months at this time. We could see this haste with which Mary travels as an excitement, or a desire to be with her older cousin to share the news; there is also the possibility that this haste is rooted in a fear of what could happen to her, an unmarried pregnant woman, if someone were to find out. Her life, livelihood and future, could all be in danger. So she travels quickly, to this smaller, rural hill country town, by herself—which is also no small thing— in order to find comfort and solidarity with her cousin, who is also in the midst of her own strange and miraculous pregnancy. As one commentary states, “Elizabeth has had a long history of being faithful to God and is just the one to help Mary respond with trust to what God is doing in this messy situation.”
In the book of Matthew, we hear Jesus say “where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” We in the Episcopal church love this phrase so much, it is prominent in the Prayer of St. Chrysostom, said at both morning and evening prayer services. It can be said that in this scene, Mary and Elizabeth’s greeting here is something akin to the first Christian worship service in history: “The call-and-response of Mary’s greeting and Elizabeth’s leaping uterus, Elizabeth’s prophetic blessing and Mary’s glorious Magnificat, is the first liturgy enacted in a gathered celebration of Jesus the Christ.” They—Mary, Elizabeth, and in-utero John, are the first two or three to gather in the name of this Son of God. Additionally, Elizabeth is the first and only woman in the Gospel of Luke to make a christological confession—that is the declaration of who she believes this child to be. “From where does this [visit] come.. That the mother of my Sovereign (the mother of my God, my Creator, my Lord) comes to me?”
I will likely mention this again when we explore Mary’s Magnificat next week, but something for us to remember is that in this time, it was the women who were responsible for the religious teaching and upbringing of children. The home was a place of worship and learning about faith, lead by the mother. When we think of the prophetic words and acts of the sons of Mary and Elizabeth, we must remember that their spirit of prophesy was in part learned from their prophetic mothers. Both Elizabeth and Mary are depicted as prophets in Luke’s Gospel. But part of the reason that I love that this lectionary slows down the story of these women enough for us to dwell here with these two, is because they are an entirely different kind of prophet than we are used to. They are not like Ellijah, or Moses— “solitary figures who alone mediate between God and the people”. They are companions in their discerning of God’s call on their life, accompanying one another through their callings. Unlike many of the birth narratives of other biblical hero’s, like that of Sarah and Hagar, or Leah and Rachel, there is no competition, deceit or abuse between them. Their companionship is communal, supportive, a deep friendship that our collect this morning speaks of: a friendship where God’s glory is embodied, lived out, and where liberation is born. Companionship that we can see reflected throughout the women of Gospel of Luke— in the Galilean women who sponsor Jesus’ ministry, in the women who prepare spices and ointments for Jesus’ burial, in the women who go with one another to Jesus’ tomb, and who go in community to announce the message of the resurrection to the disciples. Mary and Elizabeth are prophets not only of the Good News, but of collaboration, community, friendship, accompaniment, and presence.
This matters to us, because this kind of prophecy, or ministry is one that this place, Trinity, is actually quite gifted in. In my almost three years here, the thing that I tell people most about Trinity, if they are seeking a place to find a church home, if they are curious about what it looks like to be a part of this community, is that we are very good at being together with one another, at caring for one another. Our fellowship time following church is as deeply a part, a holy part, of Sunday as the service is, because people live out their care for one another, are curious about one another, thankful for one another, and desire to accompany one another through the challenges and the joys of life. And this kind of ministry, especially in a time where the world is telling us we have more and more reasons to be divided from one another, is so important. I guess that’s my friendly encouragement to you all to say, keep going. Keep caring so well for one another, and the visitors who find themselves here.
You may have noticed that this is the week that we lit two purple/blue candles and the one pink candle on the Advent wreath. The pink this week symbolizes JOY. This is the Sunday in Advent that we celebrate joy. And these two women and their unborn sons show us the way to live this out. They are each up against many challenges in their pregnancies because of their circumstances: their age, both young and old, their social status, their safety in their pregnancies—both from internal, bodily forces, and external forces— are all reasons that they could be distraught, worried, afraid. And yet, when they come together, to live out these callings alongside one another, we receive this incredible moment of joy, of anticipation, of excitement, when the child in Elizabeth’s womb jumps for joy at the arrival of Mary and the child in her womb.
In spite of the hardships, they find with each other a comfort and joy in community. A joy, deeper than simple happiness or glee, but a joy that drives out fear, makes room for revolution and liberation, assures us of our beloveness and nearness to God. That kind of joy, brought about by open, caring, redemptive and healing relationships with God and our neighbor, is the kind of joy that sustains us as we wait for the coming of this son of God, gathering in communities—in two or threes or more—to laugh, and celebrate, and anticipate our Sovereign, our Creator, our God, our Lord, coming to us as the the child of, the kin of the community of collaborative, joyful prophets, Elizabeth and Mary… Amen.
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