It seems as though the closer we get to Christmas, the more familiar the texts get. This morning we hear a passage from the gospel of Luke that is particularly dear…. Mary’s proclamation of God’s might and love in the hymn we call the Magnificat, known by its first Latin word which means ‘proclaims.’
Even before spending fourteen-plus years at a church called Saint Mary’s, the Magnificat had a special place in my heart. More than twenty years ago at Trinity, Princeton, a small group of us used get together early Wednesday morning to pray Morning Prayer in Spanish. We always used to say the Magnificat because it seemed to connect us with the peoples of Central and South America and their struggles. Even now I can begin the Magnificat in Spanish — Proclama mi alma la grandeza del Señor…. Now, all these years and experiences later, the song continues to grow in its personal associations.
But, in fact, the Magnificat — a canticle that we say or sing usually at Evening Prayer, a hymn that one hears in a traditional Lessons and Carols on Christmas Eve — is a radical hymn. In one of those great paradoxes of our tradition, this hymn that is so well-known for its beauty is also underestimated for its force.
The Magnificat praises the power, the holiness and the mercy of God, the God whom Mary calls Lord and Saviour. It does not appear to tell her story, the one we so often hear of the young virgin who humbly and obediently submits to God’s desire that she be the bearer of the Son of the Most High.
Or does it tell her story? Does it give us a different picture of Mary, a picture often lost behind the imagery of a young girl, a virgin who knows her lowly place?
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Only Matthew and Luke relate stories of the birth of Jesus, and only Luke tells us that Mary was actually informed of God’s intentions. Interestingly, after all the erudite language of the beginning of the gospel of Luke, when we get to the Magnificat, the language shifts — as though we were to go from using Elizabethan to conversational English. Also, unlike all the historical detail that we heard in the events surrounding the arrival of John the Baptist, historical accuracy is strangely lacking from Luke’s description of the encounter between Mary and Elizabeth. He moves from the realm of historical reporting to telling a story imbued with mystery and wonder.
As a sign that ‘nothing will be impossible with God,’ the angel Gabriel tells Mary about the pregnancy of her barren relative, Elizabeth. The angel departs, and Mary hurries off to Elizabeth, whose child, John the Baptist, leaps in her womb at the sound of Mary’s voice. Elizabeth blesses Mary as the mother of her Lord and for her faith in the truth of the message she has heard. Mary responds to Elizabeth with the words of the Magnificat: ‘My soul magnifies the Lord, and my Spirit rejoices in God my Saviour, for God 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 God’s name….’
This rare New Testament psalm of praise can be divided into three parts: first, a personal thanksgiving for God’s actions for Mary; second, praise for God’s acts to all, and third, praise for God’s acts for the people of Israel.
Mary’s praise comes from deep within; her soul extols God her Saviour, the God who brings not only her but Israel out of bondage into right relationship with one another and with God. God the Mighty One will raise up those who are cast down and nourish those who are starving. She then considers God’s mercy — that loyal, faithful, gracious love that God has had in covenant with God’s people throughout time. The Magnificat itself is remarkable as a hymn of praise that is full of joy for God’s actions. It seems so fitting that the God-bearer, Mary, should be the one to proclaim these words even as she stands on the turning point of the ages.
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The power of Mary’s words that always shake me to my roots and make me question how well I am doing as a follower of Jesus, her son. If I pray the Magnificat, verse by verse, and imagine myself in Mary’s place, how do these verses resonate within my heart? So, walk with me for a moment in a reflection on this hymn.
My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,
my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour; *
for you have looked with favor on your lowly servant.
How well do I proclaim God’s greatness? Even in those moments of uncertainty, when it seems that God is asking me to do something impossible, when life seems to be asking too much of me, is my spirit able to rejoice honestly, openly, truly, thankfully in God my saviour?
From this day all generations will call me blessed: *
the Almighty has done great things for me,
and holy is your Name.
How well am I able to acknowledge the great things that God has done for me, and praise God’s holy name? When things seem to be too much, am I still able to praise God? (I always think of the story of a homeless woman in Boston, who still prays every morning: Thank you, God, because I woke up this morning.)
You have mercy on those who fear you *
in every generation.
Do I recognise the mercy God has had upon me? How God has forgiven me the wrongs I have done, the wrongs I still do, and the pardon extended to me that will always be there even before I ask? Can I recognise that that same mercy is extended to others, even those with whom I am still not in right relationship? Can I give thanks that God’s mercy is there for all?
You have shown the strength of your arm, *
you have scattered the proud in their conceit.
How honest am I in acknowledging that I, too, am one of the proud? When do I need to be taken down a peg or two? When do I need to be knocked off my high horse of self-righteousness? When do I acknowledge that, in the words of James Wendon Johnson, my arm is too short to box with God?
You have cast down the mighty from their thrones, *
and have lifted up the lowly.
When have I been one of the mighty cast down from my throne and when have I been one of the lowly that God has lifted up out of graciousness and compassion? Am I able to see that I can be both on a throne and lowly? Regardless my status, can I trust in God’s mercy and guidance and grow from the place in which I am and the place where I might end up?
You have filled the hungry with good things, *
and the rich you have sent away empty.
How have I, as a Christian, helped fill the hungry with good things? How have I helped bring about the great reversal of which Mary spoke, the turning-upside-down of the status quo so that reconciliation and restoration might come about? How have I, in Jesus’ name, worked toward the elimination of suffering and the advancement of peace, toward the creation of a world where the lamb shall lie down with the lion?
You have come to the help of your servant Israel, *
for you have remembered your promise of mercy,
The promise you made to our forebears, *
to Abraham and his children for ever.
Will I, with every breath I have, as long as I shall live, remember God’s promises and do my best to convey to others the good news of salvation?
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Since we have four days this fourth week of Advent, and therefore a little time to rest with Mary’s song of praise, I encourage you to pray the Magnificat (canticle 3 and 15, found in Morning Prayer) these approaching days and then throughout the course of the year, examining your own heart in light of these prescient words. May it become a constant prayer of yours as it has for me.
My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord;
my spirit rejoices in God my saviour….
