Mary's song
As a girl raised Catholic, I was particularly enamored of Advent with its solemnity and symbolism, but the nuances were lost on me, and I lumped all the feasts together in my mind as one glorious celebration of carols, Christmas wreaths and trees, candles, parties, gifts and Santa Claus. The Christ Child was buried somewhere in the belen, among the shredded paper, between the two aging shepherds and the doddering Magi, all of whom always got refurbished come Christmas time.
Only later as a young adult did I begin to understand the Christmas story. Now, reflecting on the biblical and liturgical feasts, I appreciate the significance of the season even more. The Christmas story is so rich it can be entered from various angles. A way to do so is to see it anew through the eyes of the characters that lived through it. A perspective often relegated to the background because it takes place outside of the actual Nativity scene is Mary’s song recorded in the first chapter of Luke. This passage hardly takes center stage, yet the insight expressed in it captures the heart of God most succinctly.
Fresh from the angel Gabriel’s annunciation, Mary visits her relative Elizabeth, already six months pregnant with the baby who would later become John the Baptist, the forerunner of Jesus. There among the hills of Judea Mary voices her praise of a God whose ways are so marvelous they overturn everything taught or experienced in the world. The Magnificat (meaning “glorious”), as Mary’s song is called, reveals God’s ways and purposes as wondrously wise and unshakeable, and his heart as amazingly gracious and loving towards the poor. In a word, God is revealed as a remembering God who faithfully keeps his promises to his people even in the darkest of times. He mercifully remembers the sufferings of his people, and now fulfills his promise to send them a Messiah to be their Savior and Redeemer. By choosing a simple village girl with no wealth and no connections in high places to become the mother of the Messiah, God shows that he remembers the humble estate of the poor and destitute, and chooses to honor them. He is a God who is not impressed by the pomposity of the rich and powerful. Instead, Mary says, “He has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts. He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty.” For this reason, Mary sings, “My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant. From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me — holy is his name. His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation.”
Mary’s insight is borne out by the rest of the Christmas story. God bypasses Augustus Caesar and the Roman Empire, bypasses Herod the Great and his royal court, the powerbrokers, and the scribes and Pharisees kowtowing to the ruling powers, fattening on their largesse. God bypasses them all, overthrowing their machinations and chicaneries — and instead zeroes in like a laser beam on an obscure, nondescript, good-for-nothing village, a lowly carpenter, a young inconsequential girl, a handful of shepherds and their sheep, to set the stage for the most magnificent story of history — the birth of his Son whose eventual death and resurrection would bring life to a dying world.
We’re often made to believe that Christmas, being a time of revelry and consumerist delights, can be enjoyed only by the wealthy, or those affluent enough to afford the pleasures of the season. But we who are in on the Christmas story know better. Christmas is best of all for the poor among us who, like Mary, Joseph and the shepherds that first Christmas, have nothing in our lives but the remembrance of God to console us, the favor of God to esteem us, and the love of Christ to bless our hearts with a peace and joy that no worldly treasure can buy.
