Every baby will keep every parent up all night, at least once. It’s a rule. Whether because they are teething or colicky, anxious or tummy-troubled, or just plain fussy, it’s part of a baby’s mission in life to keep its parents awake weeping and wailing.
We parents are “hard-wired” to respond to an infant’s cries. What has kept us grieving all week, a grief that can’t be spoken? What has kept our hearts hurting all week, a pain that won’t go away? When an infant or child is in trouble, or hurt, or killed, both our right and left brains insist we must do something to “fix” the situation. If our hearts melt at the mere sound of a distressed infant, how much more do our hearts overflow in anguish at the sight of children being harmed or in harm’s way – even if our own nerve endings are jangling and cross-firing.
Before there were “white noise” recordings, washing machines, or long car rides to soothe the plaintive cries of a child, parents in every culture on the planet came up with the same plan to quiet a crying child — lullabies. Sweet melodies, slowly cadenced, softly sung, lullabies “lull” little ones into a dreamy place. They also have almost lulled me to my doom. One of my favorite CDs is Tom Wasinger’s “The World Sings Goodnight,” which I have downloaded into the playlist of my truck. These 33 lullabies are from all over the world - Bolivia, Indonesia, Poland, Russia, Ethiopia, Japan, Egypt, India, Algeria, Iran, to name a few other than the more obvious ones from the US and Canada. My problem is that as I’m barreling down the highway listening to these lullabies, I’m also being lulled to sleep.
[Here is the link to the first album, which you could play some songs from if you order it in time: http://www.amazon.com/World‑Sings‑Goodnight‑Lullabies/dp/B000000POT/ref=sr_1_1?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1355634625&sr=1‑1&keywords=The+World+Sings+Goodnight. A second album was released a couple years after this one.]
[You might also make this a time for an interactive: Ask your people what lullabies were sung to them growing up. You might start with your own, and refresh their memories about lullabies that are as famous as “Away in a Manger” (Luther’s cradle song) or “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” or “Frere Jacques” (Brother Jack) or “Rock-a-bye Baby” (written in late 1700s when some English immigrants to the new world saw how native Americans carried their children) or as forgotten as Brahms’ “Lullaby and Goodnight” (Brahms Lullaby) or “All Through the Night” (a Welsh folk song first recorded 1784) or Paul Simon’s lullaby written for his son “St. Judy’s Comet”.]
I suspect that everyone here has noticed that the actual words of some lullabies aren’t always all that comforting think “down will come baby, cradle and all.” But the cradling arms and rocking-chair rhythms in which these songs were sung created a safe, special place for a fussy infant.
In this week’s gospel text we heard the first hymn of the new age. Jesus’ birth announcement came in the form of a song, Mary’s Song, known as “The Magnificat.” The “Magnificat,” Mary’s hymn of praise to God, is nothing less than her first lullaby to her baby, to the embryonic Messiah. The first thing Jesus heard in his mother’s womb, outside the beating of her heart, was Mary’s lullaby telling him in the womb how blessed his mother was with his presence. Mary’s lullaby tells her child that his conception is a product of both God’s “mighty arm” and God’s great mercy.
Here is Mary’s Song. Let’s say the lullaby together.
[Or you could have them listen to a musical rendition of the Magnificat done by famous composers like J. S. Bach, John Rutter, or my personal favorite, Andrew Carter's "Mary's Magnificat" sung by The Choir of King's College, Cambridge in this YouTube clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E48tDob8jtM
“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.”
Like most lullabies there are some dark and downside stanzas. The proud get knocked off their high horses, or fall from their pedestals. The powerful are scattered and brought low. The rich are sent away empty. But the melodic leit motif of Mary’s lullaby affirms God as Savior, committed to the covenant, keeper of the promise made to Abraham and all his ancestors generations ago.
Mary’s lullaby is sung to offer comfort and to inspire action. But it’s more than that. Mary’s Song “extolls,” “magnifies,” “praises” the Lord. But not just for what has occurred in the past, but for what is to come in the new future God has made possible through the child who is to come: Emmanuel, God With Us.
There is good linguistic evidence to suggest that the term “lullaby” is derived from a Hebrew idiom “lilith-aba” — or “Lilith begone.” “Lilith was a demon/witch from early Israelite literature who was believed to steal little children. “Lilith-aba,” “Lilith begone” was part of the words sung over a child to protect the little one from evil. “Lilith Aba” became “lullaby.”
So perhaps the very first Hebrew lullabies were not just about putting small children into a sleeping stupor, but also keeping us alert to the approach of evil and to take decisive action against it. Mary’s first “lullaby” to Jesus, “The Magnificat,” was just such a tune. Mary’s hymn sang sweetly about the great gift she had received from God. But Mary’s hymn also sang fiercely about the actions and changes that would come about because of this new work of God in the world. Mary’s first “lullaby” sung to baby Jesus was not designed to put him to sleep, but to wake him up. “The Magnificat” woke the baby Jesus up to his mission and message just as the sound of his mother’s voice had awakened the baby John to his mission of proclamation and preparation.
The Messiah has come. Things will change. God is present and working great changes in the world according to God’s covenant and promises.
A little later Luke offers his first record of Jesus’ preaching a sermon in his “hometown” of Nazareth. Jesus stands before the congregation and reads from a scroll of Scripture. But the text he chose for his first sermon is really a Scriptural rendition of his mother’s first lullaby to him. From the scroll of Isaiah (Isaiah 61:1-12) Jesus preaches “good news to the poor,” and the “release of the captives” and the “recovery of sight to the blind” and the necessity for the “oppressed [to] go free” (Luke 4:18). All these images were set forth in the lullaby sung to him while he was in the womb. In today’s gospel text both John the Baptist and Jesus got the messages they would proclaim throughout their adult lives even though they received them as lullabies while in the womb.
Modern medicine increasingly documents just how receptive unborn children are to their environments. They respond to loud noises, to great music (Mozart and Beethoven are favorites), to melodies and movement that emit soothing, comforting, yet compelling vibrations. The greatest “lullabies” we can offer both enrobe with love and consolation, yet invigorate and energize with vision.
It is impossible to escape “Santa Claus” this time of year. No matter how hard we try to make Christmas about Jesus, that big fat guy in the red suit keeps showing up. Instead of getting sucked into a consumer-culture’s Santa Claus, maybe we should be telling the “lullaby” of the original Santa Claus, the actual Saint Nicholas, the Magnificat Nicholas.
Nicholas lived in the third century in what we now calls Asia Minor, or the Middle East. He rose in the ranks of the church and even attended the Council of Nicea in 325 AD. But instead of accepting his high role and rank in the new church hierarchy, Nicholas chose a different path. Having inherited significant wealth, Nicholas didn’t just refuse it, chuck it, or give it away in one big lump sum. Instead, Nicholas spent his life and his inheritance on saving others, especially the very people named in the Magnificat the poor, the hungry, the powerless, the condemned. Nicholas bought a young woman out of slavery (what today we would call the sex trade industry). Nicholas purchased pardons for those condemned to death because their primary crime was being poor and desperate. During the time of famine, Nicholas bought grain and distributed it for free to the most destitute and desperate.
Saint Nicholas lived the lullaby sung by Mary to Jesus before he was even born. St. Nicholas took words of “comfort and joy” and transformed them into witnesses of challenge and love. It is what we are called to do. It is what the Christmas story reminds us to do.
A wedding ceremony was about to begin. Members of the bridal procession anxiously waited for the organ music to accompany them down the aisle. But there was only silence. One of the ushers tried to get the organist’s attention by snapping his fingers. Still there was silence. The usher then tried clapping his hands. Still no response. Finally, the now panicking usher called out the organist’s name. “Neil ... Neil,” he shouted and all the people in church obediently dropped to their knees.
The Magnificat in today's Gospel message is enough to have us all kneeling. In the worlds of “O Holy Night,”
Fall on your knees, O hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born!
O night, O holy night, O night divine!
It’s not until you fall on your knees that you can stand up to your true self, to the person God is calling you to be this Christmas season.
Would you join with me now as we fall on our knees and sing our own personal Magnificat to God?
[At this point you can all have them sing “O Holy Night,” or have your soloist or choir sing it while everyone is kneeling. Or you could just close the service with a time of altaring, with the pews the altars, and you recite the “Christian Lullaby” below. The key is to end the service with everyone falling on their knees and committing themselves to “Live the Lullaby.”]
COMMENTARY
We have been “on the road to Bethlehem” throughout this Advent season. In this week’s final gospel reading before Christmas, that travel motif continues. What is the first thing Mary does after receiving the visitation of Gabriel and hearing the angel’s announcement of the child she will bear? She hits the road.
Jesus’ own mission will be marked by constant movement, but his first journey was taken while in the womb. This visit of Mary to her cousin Elizabeth is the bow with which Luke’s narrative ties together the two storylines he has been developing John and Jesus.
Of course, Mary would not have made the long journey by herself. As a young unmarried woman she would have traveled with some older male relatives to assure safety and propriety. Luke’s timeline of Elizabeth’s pregnancy suggests that Mary’s visit may have been to give assistance to Elizabeth in her final trimester. When Mary arrives it is she who goes to greet her relative, as proper protocol would have it. Elizabeth is an older, married woman, the wife of a priest. Elizabeth would have held a social position of status and honor high above Mary. But as Mary utters her greeting, suddenly their relationship changes.
Luke’s narrative reveals that John’s career as “prophet” began while he was yet in the womb. The sound of Mary’s voice causes the in utero infant to leap (“skirtao”), for he recognizes in her presence the embryonic embodiment of the one who was yet to come. The Holy Spirit also fills Elizabeth, enabling her to give voice and properly interpret the movement in her body. Through the power of the Holy Spirit Elizabeth not only discerns Mary’s own pregnancy, but she correctly acknowledges the superior status of both Mary and the baby she carries.
Elizabeth addresses Mary with language and rhetoric reserved for addressing a high ranking individual. By calling her “blessed” by God, not only does Elizabeth’s response to Mary elevate the status of this young unmarried woman. The prophetic power of the Holy Spirit also enables her to know the identity of the barely formed child. She confesses him to be “my Lord.”
Elizabeth’s final “blessed” starkly contrasts Mary’s faithful acceptance of the angelic promise to her husband Zechariah’s doubt and distrust. Zechariah’s hesitance to accept Gabriel’s pronouncement about his own child-to-come earned him a season of muteness. His suspicious voice was completely silenced until John’s birth. Elizabeth blesses Mary for her trusting acceptance of all the angelic messenger had promised. It is immediately after this “blessing” that Mary’s voice extols the power and majesty of God in the magnificent, poetic “Magnificat.”
With her physical condition now revealed and affirmed by Elizabeth’s Holy-Spirit leveraged insight, Mary’s response is to burst into “song of praise.” Mary’s song stands in a long line of Hebrew praise hymns, thanking God for divine deliverance and compassion for God’s people. Within Mary’s hymn there are echoes of the praises sung by Moses (Exodus 15:1-18). But as Jean Hite has discovered, there are five songs of deliverance sung by Hebrew women which the “Magnificat” culminates beginning with the Song of the Sea in Exodus 15:19-25 sung by Miriam (another Mary, this one Moses’ and Aaron’s sister); the Song of Deborah in Judges 5:1-13; the Song of Judith in the Apocrypha; and the Song of Hannah in First Samuel 2:1-10 as she presents her son to the priest. Mary’s song may be celebrating and praising a completely new work of God in the world, but its form and content clearly connect this praise hymn to all of Israel’s history and God’s activity on the behalf of God’s people throughout the First Testament. (For more on the 5 hymns sung by women that anticipate Mary’s “Magnificat,” see Jean Hite’s blog: http://jeanhite.wordpress.com/2011/11/16/hebrew‑women%E2%80%99s‑songs‑of‑deliverance.
The first half of Mary’s hymn is more personally focused on what God has done in her life and how God has so peculiarly blessed her. Mary’s immediate response is one of great joy, her soul, her spirit “rejoices” and affirms that God is her “Savior.” God has delivered her from a position of “lowliness” — she was an insignificant young Jewish woman, outside any discernible circle of power or prestige or pedigree, a member of a downtrodden people in a land divvied up by Roman rule.
But God’s chosenness has transformed Mary from “lowliness” to one who will now forever be “called,” as Elizabeth declared first, “blessed.”
God’s actions, Mary’s hymn asserts, are both mighty and merciful. The power and might of the Divine Warrior found throughout Israel’s history (Deut.10:17-18, Ps.24:8, Isa.10:20-27) cannot be foiled by human actions. But the Mighty God is also the Merciful God, and Mary’s hymn emphasizes how both these elements have combined and combusted now in her life, even as they have “from generation to generation” for all of Israel.
In the second half of Mary’s hymn the focus turns away from her own personal situation and looks at the bigger picture, at what the future will hold for God’s people because of this new work God is doing in the world. Although Mary’s song’s declaration of what God has done with his “mighty arm” (literally “right arm”) is declared with past tense verbs, the inference is that these are actions God continues to do for Mary, for all Israel, for the world. God’s “mighty arm” and merciful acts are bringing about a new age of hope and salvation for the world. The proud, the powerful, the privileged will be surprised and unsettled by God’s actions that are on behalf of the lowly, the hungry, and the poor.
Mary’s “Magnificat” ends as it was introduced by once again affirming faith in God’s promises and mercies. Mary’s embrace of God’s promise is only the most recent embodiment of the covenantal promise God had made “to Abraham and his descendants forever.” Believing in God’s promise, in God’s might and mercy and miracles, is the final chord struck in Mary’s hymn.
