Advent 4 | Year B | Luke 1:46b-55 | Christopher Miner
Last week I went to a Christmas concert. That's not unusual in itself, but this concert featured only one instrument - a pitch pipe. The group I saw and heard was an a cappella (only voices) group of 20-25 people, and it was magnificent. In years past I sang in groups like this so I really appreciate how this kind of choral music works, and I find it some of the most beautiful and meaningful music in the world. After listening to mostly pop Christmas music around my house it was marvelous to hear this, and especially to hear it live. (It also helped that my sister is part of the group, and my sister-in-law joined me in the audience. They are two of my favorite women in the world, non-wife division.)
As I said, I've sung in a cappella groups before, including some Christmas concerts. So imagine my delight as I checked the program saw two pieces listed that I had sung in the past! One of them was called O Magnum Mysterium, and is based on a medieval hymn/chant. There have been a number of versions of this over the years, but the one that I knew was arranged by Tomas Luis de Victoria in the late 16th/early 17th century. Here's a performance of the piece:
I love the harmonies and chord structures here - they are straight out of the Renaissance and still give me chills. And I admit that during the concert I had a hard time not singing along to my part (I was able to contain myself, thankfully). It was a lovely highlight during a thoroughly enjoyable time.
Then today I was looking through my email and saw an article in Plough, an online magazine, called Revelation and Mystery which looks at the very same hymn. As I read the article I realized I'd never spent much time considering the meaning of what I was singing - mostly I was concerned that I pronounced the Latin words correctly. (A side note: as Latin is a dead language, can you really pronounce the words incorrectly? Who's going to notice?) Here's the Latin text of the hymn, and a translation:
O magnum mysterium,
et admirabile sacramentum,
ut animalia viderent Dominum natum,
iacentem in praesepio!
O beata virgo, cuius viscera
meruerunt potare
Dominum Iesum Christum.
Alleluia!
O great mystery,
and wonderful sacrament,
that animals should see the newborn Lord,
lying in a manger!
O blessed virgin, whose womb
was worthy to bear
the Lord Jesus Christ.
Alleluia!
We Protestants don't spend much time thinking about Mary. The only time she is brought up is around this time of year, and we can easily brush her off with a few quick acknowledgements. (As a youth worker, I get the bonus of being able to talk about her and point to the 13-15 year old girls in my group and say "she was YOUR age!" That often gets some great facial expressions!) We dismiss her at a cost, I think, because she mattered a great deal, and her experiences have a lot to teach us.
For one, God choosing to send the Messiah through the womb of a teenaged virgin should remind us that we need to look for God to act and live in the most unexpected places. The Messiah should have been born to a queen, or at least to someone with the means and position to get him started on his reconquest of Israel. Isn't that what the Messiah was supposed to do, restore Israel? With the appearance of Gabriel to Mary, the answer to this was yes, but not the way people thought.
Secondly, Mary's response to this call is one we should emulate. Mary had to have some idea of the price she would pay by going down this road. Joseph would likely leave her. Her family may ostracize her, leaving her as a beggar. The community would never believe she had become pregnant via the Holy Spirit, so the whispers (or shouts) of "harlot" and "whore" would follow her endlessly. Despite this, Mary not only accepts Gabriel's message and call, after she visits her cousin and confirms what God is doing, she channels her inner David and sings a Psalm of praise to God for choosing her! She rejoices in God's selection of her, a nobody from nowhere, and apparently sees the cost as minimal in comparison.
Remember, we read this story knowing how it will turn out - Mary had no such assurances when she was confronted with God's call and move. Gabriel didn't say "Don't worry - Joseph will stick around. I'm visiting him next." or "Relax - some guys from Persia are going to bring you enough money to get you what you need after the baby comes." Mary had to trust in the God she had grown up hearing about, but who had been silent for 400 years. Would I have done the same? Would you?
What is God calling us to do or be? Can we accept and even rejoice in that, whatever the cost? Where could God be working and moving that we would never expect? Can we keep our minds and hearts open enough to see, hear, and even participate in, God's actions outside of our expectations? May we have eyes to see, ears to hear, minds to understand, and feet to move when Jesus calls our names.
Merry Christmas!
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