The miracles surrounding the birth of Jesus begin to pop and sizzle long before that cold, dark night in a manger stall.
Months earlier, an angel visits a man named Zechariah and shares astounding word that he and his wife, Elizabeth – long past her child-bearing years and like Zechariah long resigned to being childless – will at long last become parents. Zechariah doubts the angel’s good news, which literally leaves him speechless for the duration of Elizabeth’s surprising pregnancy.
As soon as Zechariah’s voice returns – another miracle in the story of Jesus’s birth, his first words are gratitude for divine blessing. With lyrics that now are ours to sing, Zechariah croons a story of praise and thanksgiving for God’s protection and promise. Zechariah then showers blessing upon his newborn son, John, destined to be the baptist who sets up shop on the banks of the Jordan to prepare the way of the Lord.
As we did earlier in this morning’s service, Zechariah carols a thrill of hope – reason for a weary world to rejoice. But he’s not the first. Others have sung similar melodies along the long, difficult road to Bethlehem.
A few paragraphs earlier in Luke 1, it is reunion with her distant relative Elizabeth that heartens Mary to rejoice: “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.”
With the splendor of a cardinal singing from high in a snow-covered pine, Mary warbles sweetly of a liberating God who pulls the powerful from their thrones, who lifts up the lowly from their pits, whose Kingdom of interwoven justice and mercy will have no end.
On this fourth Sunday of God’s Advent to us, let us join Zechariah and Mary in singing stories of hope, justice, and mercy.
Listen to the Word that God has spoken,
listen to the One who is close at hand.
Listen to the Voice that began Creation,
listen even if you don’t understand.
Mary said,
“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.” (Luke 1:46-55)
Fun fact:
Gravitational waves from the creation of the universe are rippling through the background of time and space. In other words, according to the folks who study such things, the whole of the cosmos is singing. One writer describes it thus –
“Every proton and neutron in every atom from the tip of your toes to the top of your head is shifting, shuttling, and vibrating in a collective purr within which the entire history of the universe is implicated. And if you put your hand down on a chair or table or anything else nearby, that object, too, is dancing that slow waltz.
“All of a sudden, we know that we are humming in tune with the entire universe, that each of us contains the signature of everything that has ever been. It’s all within us, around us, pushing us to and fro as we hurtle through the cosmos.”
Consider, then, how the act of singing is so vitally important – perhaps even irresistible – for Mary and for Zechariah. Imagine songs of praise and thanksgiving changing them – and us. Picture music transforming your experience and understanding of God in Christ Jesus.
Envision familiar notes and choruses preparing and nourishing your body, mind, and soul for the “what’s next” in your life – even and especially when you have absolutely no blessed clue what that next chapter looks like.
Thanks be to God – by the power of Christ’s Spirit, Mary and Zechariah – you and I – are together singing the precise words we need to hear at precisely the right moments!
So, hear a gracious invitation of close attention to the lyrics we’re singing together this morning. Songs we love to sing swing open the door and invite us into holiday celebration: “Mortals, join the mighty chorus which the morning stars began; love divine is reigning o’er us, binding all within its span.”
How does a weary world rejoice? We sing stories of hope! We find joy in connection and re-connection!
How does a weary world rejoice? We acknowledge our weariness. And we allow ourselves to be amazed.
Listen to the Word that God has spoken,
listen to the One who is close at hand.
Listen to the Voice that began Creation,
listen even if you don’t understand.
Pastor Grant M. VanderVelden shared this message during worship on the fourth Sunday of Advent, December 10, 2023, at First Presbyterian Church in Waukon, Iowa, USA. In the early Church, Advent, like Lent, lasted 40 days. Known as the “Nativity Fast” or “Winter Lent,” those 40 days began in early November. Drawing on that tradition, our Advent is running for five weeks instead of the usual four.“ How does a weary world rejoice?” is the theme for this year’s Advent. It draws on resources from SantifiedArt.org. Scholarship, commentary, and reflection by Cecelia D. Armstrong, Lisle Gwinn Garrity, and Nicolette Peñaranda inform the message.