Sermon
When I was in seminary the school had a festival called Feast of Fools. Held on Fat Tuesday, the night before Ash Wednesday, this celebration was basically skit night. Faculty, staff and students would dress up or not, and perform songs or skits. One group of friends made themselves up into a slide show. They would strike a pose as a group, then tell a story; then one of them would say, “Now. Close your eyes.” They would strike a second pose, and say, “Now, open your eyes.” This was how they advanced the slides. My roommate my first year performed the Annunciation of Mary, from the angel Gabriel's point of view. It was a hysterical invention of the possible thoughts of an angel who doesn't understand the import of their job and wants to say, “Hey! I'm just the messenger!”
The first scene in the gospel of Luke includes Gabriel, who announces first that Elizabeth will give birth; The second birth announcement is to Mary. The text today comes at the intersection of those two announcements, when Mary is told she is with child, and she visits Elizabeth.
The great Magnificat, ancient canticle of Mary's Song has been set to music by composers ranging from the earliest Gregorian chant in 8 psalm tones, to Palestrina, Buxtehude, Arvo Part, Bach, and Vivaldi, to Dai Wolridge's new Christmas Pageant called “Who Am I?” One article I read said that “Revolutionaries, the poor and the oppressed, all loved Mary and they emphasized her glorious song. But the Magnificat has been viewed as dangerous by people in power. Some countries — such as India, Guatemala, and Argentina — have outright banned the Magnificat from being recited in liturgy or in public.” 1
This beautiful text in all its glory, was not sung after Gabriel said to her (Luke 1:35) “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will by holy; he will be called Son of God.” Mary didn't sing then. She pondered.
But when she went to see Elizabeth and Elizabeth's baby moved in her womb, and Elizabeth confirmed for Mary what the angel had told her, then she sang! One of the most powerful messages in scripture, source of some of the best music in western history, didn't happen at the moment of the indwelling of God, it happened after someone recognized the indwelling of God.
Mary sings, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for He has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is His Name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped His servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”
No wonder the powerful don't like these words.
In addition to reading Luke's version of the Lord's Prayer we have read about Elizabeth and Mary because it is an example of God breaking into our space and time. This is what the Lord's Prayer means by “hallowed.” Today we look at holiness, for the Lord's Prayer, and in our own lives.
Holy is an attribute of God. Just as we say God is mercy, just, strong, love, God is holy. When we say “hallowed be thy name” we are saying that in this prayer, we recognize that the name for God that Jesus gave us is to remain holy. The holiness is being emphasized, not the name.
You know me, I looked up “holy” in a thesaurus. There were 50 synonyms, but I wasn't satisfied with any of them! The word that wasn't on their list was the one I wanted – sacred. Anytime God breaks into our time and space is a sacred time. A sacred thing. A sacred act. Sacred means set apart.
How does God come into our lives? Earlier I asked you to think of some things that you would consider holy, consider sacred. I invite you to type those into the comments section now or anytime during the service. This is the interactive-while-distanced part of the service.
Here are some things that are sacred. These come from you. I have been asking some of you what kinds of things are sacred for you.
Nature: the forest; Big Basin, Armstrong Woods; Mt. Hermon; so much of what is threatened or already lost to the terrible fires around the homes of those we know, around places where we have memories.
Beauty
Reading something that gives you a glimpse of something that helps you see things in a way that makes sense. Some of the philosophical statements we read.
Words and melodies that hit just right.
Kindness: I ran into a man in the parking lot of Lunardi's yesterday. I was walking in, and he was about to get into his car, but just stood next to his car and watched the sky. Something touched me, so I stopped and asked if he was ok. He was wearing glasses, a hat, and a mask but I could still see that something was bothering him. He shook his head and said, “So much fire.” We both looked up into our blue sky. I asked if he had anyone he knew or family in any areas of danger. He said yes, that he had a few cousins in Santa Cruz. But he hoped they'd be able to take care. He hoped they'd find somewhere to go. He asked about me, and I said that I'm fortunate that my immediate family is not near the fires. He said it was just too much. He paused, and then said that he was in Viet Nam, it was hot, he struggled, he lost 90 pounds while he was there; he got the purple heart twice. The fires, covid, this election. Then he stopped. I could see he was crying. He seemed world weary. I said something about “at some point you just wish it would stop.” He said, “yeah.” We just stood with each other for a moment after that. We shared names, and went on our way. That was sacred.
Remembering
Stories
Listening
Sometimes we only recognize that something special has happened after the fact. Like Mary, we often don't speak, we only ponder, when an experience of holy has happened. When I first joined a church I didn't tell anyone. When I wanted to go to seminary I didn't tell anyone. When the desire to become your pastor first happened I didn't tell anyone.
Sometimes we keep something to ourselves because we don't know how to talk about it. Maybe it was an experience so big, or so little, that it is beyond words. Maybe we don't know what it means ourselves yet. Maybe we don't want to have to act on those feelings so if we don't tell anyone there isn't as much accountability. If you're like me, I've had sacred moments that, frankly I don't want to share. It was sacred and I don't want to give any of it away.
What happens to us after we've had a sacred moment? Do we hold it tight to ourselves? Do we shout it from the rooftops? Do we express joy somehow then? Maybe we sing, and people write our words into song for centuries. I like the story of Mary and Elizabeth because it's an example of sharing what is holy, and our joy is doubled in the confirmation of our delight.
The Holy Spirit is God's gift to us. When God comes swooping in, or sliding in softly wrapping us like a blanket, or knocking us off our feet, we need to feel that and honor that the best way we know how. Maybe just by feeling joy. Or maybe by writing a song. I think we are called to share our sacred moments because they usually are the beginning of a change in us. Even if we don't share the sacred moment itself, that change in us makes us think and act in ways that are new. In that way we are using the holy in us to make the world more holy.
Then, if God talked like I did, God would say something like “Now, that's what I'm talking about!”
I don't think God talks like I do. One of my favorite poems that I've shared before, written by Mary Oliver, makes me think that maybe God talks like she does.
Instructions for living a life
Pay attention
Be astounded
Tell about it.
~Mary Oliver
Let's pray,
1 "Mary's Magnificat in the Bible is Revolutionary" D.L. Mayfield