Magnificat Sermon from Evensong 12-20

Tonight, we encounter God’s embarrassing and threatening “challenge to good order” Pregnancy comes unexpected, and out of order to a young peasant girl named Mary who then runs off to visit her cousin Elizabeth after being made aware of her pregnancy. Elizabeth who has miraculously conceived in her old age, confirmations the miracle of Mary’s pregnancy and proclaims her blessed.

The scene is absurd, the coming of the Messiah who will redeem Israel is anticipated and proclaimed, not by archangels or high priests or emperors or even ordained preachers … Rather it comes from two marginalized pregnant women. Two marginalized, pregnant women carry the future and proclaim the messiah.

Last night I watched the movie Precious. It is a raw look at how the vulnerable are oppressed and can in turn oppress the even more vulnerable and one young woman’s decision to stop the chain of oppression. A very powerful scene in the movie is when Precious is given one more piece of bad news:one more way in which she will be marginalized, she begins to cry and says, “Nobody loves ME.” She teeters on giving up and giving in to her vulnerability. Yet in that moment.. she is able to hear, really hear her teacher say, “Your baby loves you, and I love you.”

Precious helped me to hear that powerful choice that Mary made in her vulnerability… to give praise and be grateful after being affirmed by Elizabeth. Hear again the words of her song:

My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour,
for he has looked with favour 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.

Mary’s reaction could have taken many forms and maybe it did. Yet in her vulnerability as a young unmarried peasant woman, who did not know at this moment how her world would react to this pregnancy, chooses to give praise, not only for the reality of her situation; the new life growing within, but in the privilege of being an instrument of God. From her most vulnerable place, she gives praise and becomes a participant in God’s miracle. It is from our vulnerability that we can most easily connect with the compassion of God and from our gratitude that God can most easily make us instruments of God’s love, God’s peace and God’s mercy.

When faced with challenges, I am one who’s first reaction is often to lead with my strength, react with my intellect and persevere in self determination. It is hard not to use my places of privilege, such as being able bodied, educated, middle class and white. And yet it is when I allow myself to be vulnerable; out of my comfort zone; maybe in unfamiliar settings such as standing in this pulpit for the first time tonight, that God can use me.

Tonight as we listen to Mary’s song and we visualize her story, you and I can ask ourselves where God is calling us to be vulnerable to the work of God’s world?

As Mary in her vulnerability, accepts her role in this drama of the incarnation she becomes more than she ever thought possible. The vulnerable becomes powerful and at the same time, …just who God created her to be; bringing to mind the quote from Maryanne Williamson, used by Nelson Mandela in this acceptance speech.

You may have heard it many times, but permit me to remind you:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
Then in her place of power beyond measure, Mary delivers one of the most subversive messages in the Bible. Mary gives voice to a song for the ages, a song that invites us beyond our realistic expectations and our dull imaginations. She announces the larger implications of the upside-down world that God has inaugurated.

Listen to her words again:

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 for ever.’

The song proclaims the toppling of oppression and human power such as the oppression that grounds Mary’s very own worth in her ability to bear a son and the culture that deemed men as the owners of her procreative power.

I have seen two powerful movies in just over a week. The second was Invictus, the story of Nelson Mandela’s first year in office. He was faced with monumental challenges in bringing together a new government that would not only topple the oppression but would represent all South African’s regardless of race. One of the scenes that struck me was his wisdom in preventing those who had been oppressed for generations from becoming oppressors and retaliating against those who had once oppressed them. The South African rugby team named the Spring Bocks had once been a symbol of apartheid, and oppression. It was beloved by White So. Africans and hated by Black So. Africans as a symbol of oppression with its all white team.

While in prison, Mandela himself had cheered on any competitor of the spring bocks in hope of seeing this symbol of oppression loose. But in office he would not allow the now black leadership of national sports to change the name and take away this team beloved by White So. Africans. Rather he changed the country’s relationship with the team and the team’s relationship with the country. In All Saints fashion, he sent the team on a transformational journey out into the community teaching Rugby to the neighborhood kids, becoming their heroes and learning first hand the atrocities of oppression.

What looked like a foolish waste of time united a country to cheer and support this team which now represented a United So. Africa. The movie is named for the poem Invictus that Mandela used as a meditation, and mantra while in prison which he later shares with the captain of the Spring Bocks.

I could not help but believe that the poem Invictus also fit the life of this abused young woman, Precious. Especially the last two lines:

I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

At age 16, Precious, the mother of two topples the powers that be and becomes the master of her fate and the captain of her soul.
Few of us have ever faced those specific challenges, so what does that

Magnificat say to us on this night:
Begin with Gratitude. Allow your soul to magnify the lord and your spirit to rejoice in the lord. For God has scattered the proud and put down the mighty to make us the masters of our fate and the captains of our soul.In your vulnerability, connect with the heart and compassion of God that each one of us might become instruments of Gods love, peace and mercy. And, While Precious did become the master of her fate, she had hands along the way: A school administrator who went the extra mile to give her the information that eventually was a catalyst to change; A teacher who chose to work in the alternative school and chose to get involved in this young girl’s life; A nurse, who like the teacher used his own resources and went beyond his job description to give her a hand. None of whom had to go far or sacrifice much at all. But, their participation made a difference; their willingness to be instruments of God’s love and mercy and justice toppled the powers that be and created a new world for one young woman and her children.

Be vulnerable to those places in your life where you can make a difference. Amen

A Life Worth Living

Among the many things that my dad has given me, is the strong conviction to live a life worth living. I am committed to loving passionately, leaving the world a tiny bit better because I was here and to never stop learning new tricks or taking new opportunities. It is regretfully not how I see my father’s life in the last twelve years and therefore I cannot bear to think of repeating his mistakes. Knowing he has not been happy with his life after retirement for which he worked so hard, makes loosing him all the more sad.

My father hates dialysis, even though it has been his lifeline for the past two years. He hates the very thing that is entirely responsible for giving him two years of life. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays my dad has gone to a dialysis center and been hooked up to a machine that functions similarly to his kidneys. Years of high blood pressure had deteriorated his kidneys and his heart attack left them inadequate to sustain his life. I used to call him during his dialysis and try to bring some laughter and cheer to that time, but little by little, it became harder and harder. Our conversations seemed like reruns, and I felt hopeless to affect any change in his mood. I tried talking about sports, world politics and even resorted to the weather. During the presidential campaign, when the front runners were a female and an African American man, I still could not get him to engage me about this historic election. As a teenager, we had heated discussions and even fights about women’s lib and race relations. Where was that man who could argue me into a frenzy of passion over what a woman should have the right to do or who could love whom? Finally I decided I would just give him an update on my life and mostly an update on his grandchildren. It was usually a one sided conversation. Rarely did he add anything he had done or thought to the conversation. The one bright spot was saying “I love you, Dad” and hearing, “I love you too, Babe. You take care of yourself.” To which I replied, “I always do.”

I always do, Dad, take care of myself. I make the plans and execute them. I take care of the business of life and look after myself. Is that part of what you taught me, by being an example of the opposite? My father has abdicated responsibility for making plans and taking care of family business to my mother, possibly from the beginning of their life together. She has managed the money, managed the house; managed the parenting; managed what little social life they had. She made all the plans and led the execution of those plans. By the time I was born she managed almost every aspect of his life, what he ate, his clean clothes, his schedule and most of his time. Today she is totally responsible for his very life. She sees that he gets food, medication and to dialysis. He cannot even tell you what medications he takes or when he had his last pain pill. My dad has given his life over to her complete control, but that is not such a big stretch from where it has been for several years. God help me, Dad, I never want to abdicate my life to another or to have them abdicate theirs to me until the moment there is no other choice.

In my last conversation with him, I was driving to work and the discussion led me to say I would probably never be able to retire; that I will work until I am physically or mentally unable. To which my father replied that retirement had not been good for him. He expressed unhappiness with this life since retiring and I can see it so clearly. I had many talks with him about finding a part-time job or volunteering and doing things that would put him in contact with others, able to make friends and have conversations about the weather. He would always agree that working, having a place to go and interacting with others would be preferable to sitting at home reading, napping and watching reruns. But, it was a conversation that never materialized into action. He always agreed that getting active would be good for him and yet never made a change. Did he just procrastinate so long that his health failed? Was he depressed? Was he paralyzed by the fear of something new?

I am left to contemplate how to give him even the slightest joy in these last weeks or months. I am left to contemplate how to use this perplexing experience to grow stronger in my resolve to stay engaged in life. I am left to contemplate how to tell you not to procrastinate in doing what makes your life worth living. Risk it all to find where your greatest passion intersects with the worlds greatest needs. Risk it all to experience passion and love that makes your heart sing. Risk it all to partake of the opportunities you are given. Don’t be afraid to risk living large.

Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow!

Touched

The other day someone described me as “refreshing and real” after we had dined together for the first time. I have pondered those words since hearing them. Of course I am real. Maybe it is the phenomenon of turning 50 that prompts the need to be real, authentic and true to those 50 years of life’s lessons. And, I realize I have not always been able to be real. My desires to be loved, accepted and to excel in any given context have had more influence than I would like to admit. Whatever its origin, being authentic to who I am at the center of my being is very life giving at this time. What I have discovered also is that I am not significantly different at heart than the girl who left Radnor or the earthy young mother in Memphis, or the thirty-seven year old housewife from the burbs who entered seminary. One consistent longing identifiable in all of those stages has been for someone to connect with my true self, the real me, which I cannot always reveal.

Basketball great, Bill Russell once said, “Our whole lives, it seems, we are only deciding how often and to whom we should expose ourselves. We learn to make a shell for ourselves when we are young, then spend the rest of our lives hoping that someone will reach inside and touch us–just touch us. Anything more than that would be too much to bear.” [from Sports Illustrated, June 8, 1970]

Hoping that someone will reach into my shell and touch me, I have deliberately been more open and accessible in the past year. Along about February, I began to pray this simple prayer, “God make me open to love.” It has been my deepest longing and most confusing pursuit. I have experienced great joy through connections made and strengthened and I have experienced disappointment, maybe even heart break at connections that ended before they could bear much fruit.

Today I can identify three ways in which I have been touched beneath the shell.

As a theologian, I have strongly held beliefs that it is only God who can fill our deepest longing to be touched and to be known. I believe that each one of us has a God-sized hole within us that will continue to be empty until we know God dwells in us; that unconditional love is already ours. There also seems to be a requirement that we allow that love to flow from us out into the world; outflow governing the inflow. I have felt it flowing through me as I reach out to others in times of need and for no reason at all. One of my great joys is laying hands on someone who has come for prayer. I can feel the love of God pouring through me and out of me and when I am done I am more filled than I was before the prayers. As amazing and awesome as this is, sometimes it is not enough, the longing to be touched still exists.

Somewhere in my 37th year of life, I discovered the great joy of deep friendship -maybe for the first time. I walked across the campus of Pacific School of Religion headed towards orientation. In my path was an attractive woman with a pleasant smile. I remember her brunette hair was in a French braid that extended down her back and was tied with a white ribbon. On her left hand I noticed a wedding band. My first thoughts were, “someone like me.” It was immediately comfortable to talk and to share experiences with Phyllis. That evening I would discover we weren’t as much alike as I had imagined, and that it didn’t matter. In just 5 short months, Phyllis would become a pillar of strength in my life as I relied on her through my husband’s “coming out” process and divorce.

One day Phyllis went too far in an attempt to help me stand up for myself and we got into an argument. She had no idea that an argument with me meant I would not only walk away from the fight, but away from the relationship. Time passed and my interaction with her was limited to polite greetings. I had added another layer to my shell and closed her out as I had done every other female friend to that point. When the relationship got rocky, I would cut and run. But, Phyllis would have none of that. Tired of my attempts to close her out of my heart she got right in my face and confronted me. It might have been the first time a woman had ever said she loved me and then she let me know that it did not depend on whether I returned that love or not. She reached right into my shell and touched me. Phyllis showed me the great joy of loving a friend and being touched. Because of this breakthrough relationship, I now enjoy much more intimacy with friends and am able to resist the urge to take flight when the going gets tough. But for whatever reason, it isn’t enough.

The third source of touch that seems to complete the circle, when in combination with the other two, is the kind of touch that only happens with a man. I am blessed and cursed to have known the briefest of touches by some amazing men. The blessing is to know that there are differences in their touch and I have experienced the differences. The curse is that there have been several and not one with whom I can plumb the depths of our ability to sustain that touch. My experience has taught me that Russell is right on one level, anything more than just a touch would be too much to bear. But I have a belief -no an intuitive certainty that there is more to be experienced from a sustained relationship where the touch deepens our ability to sustain the connection. As evidenced by how the physical intimacy of a couple can grow to new heights of pleasure and satisfaction, I know the ability to bear the connection of true self to true self for more than a touch can be reached. I long for the chance to prove what my heart knows.

God help me to open my shell at just the right times.