ADVENT 4C

THE REVEREND E. WAYNE ROLLINS

Here we are, in the first full day of Winter. It will take a few weeks for us to
notice that we have a minute or two of increasing daylight, as the sun made its annual
U-turn in the wee hours of yesterday morning. We’re just a few days away from the
date that retailers have been warning us about for some two to three months, and, on
this day, we hear a couple of familiar stories.


They are stories of promise. Micah’s comforting words to those in Bethlehem are
about their dodging the bullet when Assyrian forces attacked and destroyed the
northern kingdom of Israel. The prophet’s words come some two centuries before
Nebuchadnezzar’s army attacked Judah. Micah is an erstwhile contemporary of Amos
and the first of the prophets named Isaiah.


Bethlehem is a small, insignificant area in the kingdom of Judah, now part of
what we know as the West Bank. Its name translates as “house of bread.” While its
stature is small, its promise is huge. From it will come one who will reign over Israel,
which will once again be a unified land and people after its division at the hands of
sibling rivalry after the death of Solomon.


Fast forward to Luke’s beautiful telling of those intimately involved in the year
leading up to the birth of Jesus. Luke remembers the prophecy about Bethlehem, and
weaves it into his story; he wants to show us that Jesus is the fulfillment of that long ago
promise.


Like Bethlehem, Elizabeth and Mary are fairly insignificant characters in this
story, except that something of great significance is about to occur through them.
Elizabeth is past her child-bearing years, yet she is six months pregnant. Mary, her
cousin, is a teenager, probably about thirteen years old, unwed, but expecting her own
child.


Luke makes us privy to the interaction with a heavenly being who is involved in
both women’s lives. Gabriel appears to Zechariah, Elizabeth’s husband, as he enters the
holiest part of the Temple to offer incense. Zechariah’s disbelief of the angel causes him
to become mute, which lasts until his son is born and he writes the name he is to be
called, according to the prophecy from the angel. His song burst forth when his speech
returns, and is one of Luke’s wonderful canticles we continue to sing.
Mary has her own song, which Luke models after one attributed to Hannah, the
mother of the prophet Samuel. We’ll hear and sing Mary’s song a few times today. It
gives us the gist of what this day means.


Bethlehem. Elizabeth. Mary. They’re not famous. They wouldn’t even have
“influencer” status at this point, if such a status even existed. In fact, if they tried to do
1that, they would be shut down in a moment, because their words, their purpose, is the
world’s great reversal, set in motion by nothing less than the Spirit of God, which they
might know something about, but without the doctrines developed by the later church.
And that’s the point. God chooses the least likely of persons and places to
accomplish what God sets out to do. God doesn’t go for the glitzy celebrity status icons
of the age. God doesn’t usually choose the most athletic or the wealthiest, either,
although, God being God, could do that and surprise us that way, too.


Luke’s entire Gospel is about that reversal. Mary tells us. God has filled the
hungry, exalted the meek, and thrown down the mighty from their self-important
pedestals. God is fulfilling the promise made so long ago to Abraham, but opening the
doors to millions yet to come to become children of God.


Imagine yourself being on the outside, hungry, cold, unsheltered. Then, a shaft
of light begins to spread as a door is opened. Warm air rushes into the cold. A quiet,
somewhat shy voice then says, “come in. There’s room for you here.”
Now imagine hearing your own voice saying those words to someone who
might at first disbelieve that you mean them. When you can do that, you take on angel
status, the word angel meaning “messenger.” You are God’s messenger, appearing to
someone who might be surprised to know they exist in our own time outside a
Hallmark card or movie.


When you can do that, you become like Luke, an evangelist, or teller of Good
News. Your home, your place of worship, and your heart become like a house of bread
fresh from the oven, just waiting for a nice slab of rich butter.


And when you can do that, you become like Mary and Hannah, Zechariah,
Micah, Isaiah and so many more, with a song to sing that announces once again the
greatest reversal of all time—death becomes new life. Its words invite the eternal into
human life, offering transcendent mercy and grace to all those caught in life’s winter
chill, but who yearn to sing the song of God’s eternal, life-warming love.