Living in Love
DATE: December 20, 2009
SCRIPTURE: Luke 1:39-56
Despite the recession, one of the hot items this Christmas season is large screen TVs. And with the purchase of a high def television, one is often confronted with a choice of service providers. Do you go with satellite services like DISH? Do you opt for the local cable outfit? Or, do you sign-up with the telephone company?
In New York, the competition is rather rough and tumble, and a whole series of television ads pits one provider against the other—often in very humorous manner! I especially like the ads that show the Verizon Fios guy going door-to-door trying to sell people on his services. He is accompanied by an older woman. Each time he starts his pitch, he is corrected. "Don't forget to tell them about all the fees," she says. "Oh, Mom!" he replies. Turning to the potential customer, she says, "I'm his mother—just making sure he remembers how I brought him up to be honest!"
Can you imagine having your mother watching over your shoulder at work? Rather unnerving isn't it! Well, today, that's what's happening for me. You see, my mom's in town—and she's sitting out there, no doubt making sure I remember how she brought me up!
Truth be told, I'm delighted to have her here. She is, as you've heard me say in more than one sermon, one of my heroes! Her tenacious love, especially during my Dad's seventeen years of disability, has inspired me in ways I may never fully understand. But that's often the way it is with moms and dads, isn't it? The way they teach us is not just with words, but by example. And it is not unusual to discover later in life just how much you have been shaped by the hands that rocked your cradle, changed your diapers, signed your report cards, and filled your Christmas stocking!
Our lesson from Luke is all about a mother—maybe the most famous mother in the world. Mary of Nazareth. Sometimes known as the Virgin Mary, or the Blessed Mother, or just BVM—short for the Blessed Virgin Mary, or Mother—she has been elevated to such heights in our imaginations, that we often forget how human she was. We forget that she started her journey through motherhood as an unwed teenager! We forget she was initially petrified when she heard she was going to be a mother. We forget that she and Joseph probably had one heck of an argument as they wrestled with the news. But out of all that came a strength that is reflected in our passage. A strength that not only set the tone for her life, but ultimately set the tone for her son's life and ministry. Because you've got to believe that Jesus, like most every other child who ever lived, was shaped by his mother. And her love for him, and her devotion to God, helped to create the one we call Messiah.
Like lots of expectant mothers, Mary needed some support as she moved through her pregnancy. So she goes to visit her older cousin Elizabeth, who is also pregnant. And it is while there, that Mary offers up words that have come to be known as the Magnificat.
"My soul magnifies the Lord," she says, "and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour . . . ." Pregnant Mary celebrates, for despite the fact that she is merely a young peasant, she has been chosen to be the mother of the Messiah, the one who will save Israel, the one destined to be the heir of King David! In this very passage Mary not only demonstrates her acceptance of her situation, she actually comes to embrace it! Mary, to use a phrase, is truly living in the present. But not in the way folks sometimes think of that. Let me explain.
For centuries, folks have emphasized the importance of living in the present moment. Many a wise person has encouraged people to center themselves in the here and now. Fourteenth century German mystic Meister Eckert once said, "There exists only the present instant . . . . There is no yesterday, nor any tomorrow, but only Now." Nineteenth century philosopher, Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, "With the past, I have nothing to do; nor with the future. I live now." And twentieth century motivational speaker Earl Nightingale encouraged his followers to "learn to enjoy life." "Be happy now," he said.
All of which is more than likely sound advice. Except that it fails to take into account the past and the future and their influence on our present lives. Theologian Henri Nouwen, however, does just that. He acknowledges that it is vital for us to affirm the present. But that, he says, "becomes fully possible only by remembering the past and expecting more to come in the future." (The Lord Is Near: Advent Meditations from the Works of Henri J. M. Nouwen, 17) You see, we are shaped by our past—it is that which brings us to the now. And we are pulled forward by the future—by our hopes and dreams of things yet to come. We mustn't live in the past, nor can we live in the future. We most certainly live in the here and now. But the here and now is indeed related to the there and then.
Mary understood. And her song of praise in today's reading reflects that. As she affirms her pregnancy, as she celebrates her life in the present moment, she does so recognizing the past and the future and their role in the story. The Magnificat is full of allusions to the history of the Israelites and it ends with a direct reference to the covenant, the promise, made centuries earlier to the founding father Abraham. While it also points to a future when common folk will finally be redeemed from oppression because of the child she is bearing: "God has brought down the powerful from their thrones," she says, "God has filled the hungry with good things." (1:52a; 53a)
Nouwen writes: "Nothing is as difficult as really accepting one's own life. More often than not the present is denied, the past becomes a source of complaints, and the future is looked upon as a reason for despair." (Ibid) But Mary did not complain about the past. She did not despair the future, despite the difficulties of her own life as a pregnant teenager, despite the difficulties of her people who lived in an occupied country. Instead of complaining or despairing, she remembered and learned from the past; she expected more to come in the future. And because of that, she was able to affirm the present. This, then, is the woman who nurtured and shaped Jesus. A man who clearly lived in the present, yet who honored the past, and held out hope for the future. A man who taught us how to do the same and so saved us from the strictures of time.
How vital those learnings will be for all of us in the days and weeks ahead. As we move through this time of transition, as we take time to remember the past we've shared, and the future we will live out separately, it will be crucial for us to stay centered in the present. Yet as you do that as a congregation, bear in mind that you have been shaped by what has gone before. As I move into a new pastorate, might I remember the same about myself and my new congregation. I have been shaped by you—and they have been shaped by my predecessors. And might none of us despair about the future, but rather live in the hope that is central to this Advent season. For God has been with us, God will be with us, and God is with us now.
I've shared with you before how one of the ways my parents shaped me and my siblings, was in and through a nightly time of scripture, prayer and reading aloud around the dinner table. And I've also shared how during Advent we heard Dickens' A Christmas Carol read one chapter a week leading up to Christmas Day.
It is, of course, a story of transformation. And ultimately, a story about living life fully in the present. But it is also a story about how the past and future inform our lives. Ebenezer Scrooge is visited by ghosts who show him the past, present and future in such a way that he sees the world afresh. And as a result comes to affirm his own life in a new way marked by love and generosity. When he wakes from his night of ghostly encounters and realizes he has been given a second chance, he celebrates. "I will live in the Past, the present and the Future," he exclaims. "The Spirit of all Three shall strive within me." (55)
And so it is. While we can only truly live in the present moment, while our lives do roll on one now after another, the truth is past, present and future are indeed all striving within us. Scrooge, Dickens tells us, never forgot that. Mary, who would end up not only at the Cross, but also witnessing the Resurrection, never forgot. Neither should we. And truth be told, that's a lesson I've been taught many times over . . . by my mother.
Amen.
John H. Danner