Advent 4
Luke 1.39-45 (46-55)
What an unlikely God those Israelites have been following—from Ur to Palestine, from Egypt across the Sinai Desert, and back to Palestine. The God of Mary’s rejoicing favors the lowly, not the powerful. His strength brings down the powerful. Unlike the gods of the armies who occupy the land, the Roman pantheon of gods, chasing after beautiful women and defeating their enemies in battle, Mary’s God uses strength and power to feed the hungry. What an odd God! Not at all what the rest of the world was looking for.
And so God continues to appear to us—not as a mighty woman- and enemy-conquering god, but as a small, vulnerable, powerless baby-god, born to a woman who describes herself as “lowly,” and her people as “servants.” Not only does Mary’s god bring down the powerful, but also sends the rich away with nothing—no reward, no lavish feast for the rich. The poor are the only ones who receive this god’s mercy and riches.
In the “hill country” of “Judah” today (scholars find little evidence to indicate the location of the town where Mary visits Elizabeth), the poor and powerless still count on God’s promised blessings; they still trust that God will fill their hungry stomachs and their aching souls with good things. The Christians who live in some of these hills outside Jerusalem today—in Bethlehem, Beit Jala, Beit Sahour, and south to Hebron hills—have learned that they cannot count on the promises of the Israeli government or the U.S. No matter what the treaties or peace agreements say, these humble hill country people have learned that they can count only on God, and so they live as if they are receiving God’s promised abundance, their guiding principle: “that they may have life abundant.”
Like the rest of us, these Palestinian Christians are preparing to celebrate the arrival of the Prince of Peace. This morning (Saturday, December 20) I worshiped with them, gathering with a small group at Bethany Lutheran in Denver—a service simulcast with those gathered at the National Cathedral in Washington, DC. Bishops, pastors and lay people committed to peace and justice read lessons and sang carols as we prepare to receive the Prince of Peace. This is the abundant life our Palestinian Lutheran sisters and brothers are creating—a life lived as if the wall were not separating us, a life lived, trusting that God’s promises of life abundant are indeed true. Photo: Lutheran Christmas Church, Bethlehem
Please join in praying one of the prayers we prayed this morning:
Incarnate God, your angel host announces that peace is born among us, embodied in frail flesh. With confidence in the power of that miracle, we bring you our prayers for the church and the world. That the child born to us may awaken us to heal this broken and hurting world, and that the peace proclaimed by angels in the shepherds’ field will be realized in every place of war and on every violent street, we pray to you, O God…Come now, O God of love. Reconcile your people and make us one body. Amen
Luke 1.39-45 (46-55)
What an unlikely God those Israelites have been following—from Ur to Palestine, from Egypt across the Sinai Desert, and back to Palestine. The God of Mary’s rejoicing favors the lowly, not the powerful. His strength brings down the powerful. Unlike the gods of the armies who occupy the land, the Roman pantheon of gods, chasing after beautiful women and defeating their enemies in battle, Mary’s God uses strength and power to feed the hungry. What an odd God! Not at all what the rest of the world was looking for.
And so God continues to appear to us—not as a mighty woman- and enemy-conquering god, but as a small, vulnerable, powerless baby-god, born to a woman who describes herself as “lowly,” and her people as “servants.” Not only does Mary’s god bring down the powerful, but also sends the rich away with nothing—no reward, no lavish feast for the rich. The poor are the only ones who receive this god’s mercy and riches.
In the “hill country” of “Judah” today (scholars find little evidence to indicate the location of the town where Mary visits Elizabeth), the poor and powerless still count on God’s promised blessings; they still trust that God will fill their hungry stomachs and their aching souls with good things. The Christians who live in some of these hills outside Jerusalem today—in Bethlehem, Beit Jala, Beit Sahour, and south to Hebron hills—have learned that they cannot count on the promises of the Israeli government or the U.S. No matter what the treaties or peace agreements say, these humble hill country people have learned that they can count only on God, and so they live as if they are receiving God’s promised abundance, their guiding principle: “that they may have life abundant.”
Like the rest of us, these Palestinian Christians are preparing to celebrate the arrival of the Prince of Peace. This morning (Saturday, December 20) I worshiped with them, gathering with a small group at Bethany Lutheran in Denver—a service simulcast with those gathered at the National Cathedral in Washington, DC. Bishops, pastors and lay people committed to peace and justice read lessons and sang carols as we prepare to receive the Prince of Peace. This is the abundant life our Palestinian Lutheran sisters and brothers are creating—a life lived as if the wall were not separating us, a life lived, trusting that God’s promises of life abundant are indeed true. Photo: Lutheran Christmas Church, Bethlehem
Please join in praying one of the prayers we prayed this morning:
Incarnate God, your angel host announces that peace is born among us, embodied in frail flesh. With confidence in the power of that miracle, we bring you our prayers for the church and the world. That the child born to us may awaken us to heal this broken and hurting world, and that the peace proclaimed by angels in the shepherds’ field will be realized in every place of war and on every violent street, we pray to you, O God…Come now, O God of love. Reconcile your people and make us one body. Amen
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