Close to Home: Friendship (Mary and Elizabeth) (MPLS)

Luke 1:39-45

In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leapt in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leapt for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfilment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

Luke loves to begin a story by introducing us to the characters and places that usually matter; the names and locations that give credit to a tale and its place in history.

He namedrops politicians and priests, ancestral lines and temple traditions, before zeroing on a detail so inconsequential we might have missed it; so unlikely and right under the nose of the Empire.

Zechariah is an elderly priest who serves with his division in shifts whenever their lot is drawn, who keeps rituals and practices religion like his priestly ancestors before him.

When an angel appears near the altar he is serving a shift. His head is spinning, from the incense or the fear falling on him, when the angel speaks his name and tells him not to fear. His prayers for a child have been heard and, after all these years, his wife, Elizabeth, will become pregnant.

The child will be filled with the spirit, wild at heart, and a great gift to God. Many will rejoice at his birth and compare him to Elijah, for he will have the power to turn people toward one another and will make ready the world for a Savior. The angel says the child will be a son and they will name him John.

Surely Zechariah knew stories like this from scripture, God’s pattern for interrupting the assumptions of people young and old, with miracles that changed everything.

But his first response is pragmatic and skeptical at best: “How can I know this is true? We’re not exactly young and our childbearing years have already passed.”

The angel replies with a real zinger: I know this is true because I am a celestial power and I stand in the presence of God. I was sent by God with this good news for you, but since you do not believe my words, you will be silenced until the day your son is born.

I imagine Zechariah’s unspoken months to have stages like pregnancy. There is the queasy and unseen suffering that feels isolating. There is the grief of missing out on adding his two cents, the frustration of feeling less independent and confident in public, There is the quiet joy when he sees Elizabeth’s belly growing, when he recognizes the miracle in his midst. Zechariah is growing, too.

There is a deeper listening, a sacred attention he might not have known otherwise. He is displaced from what he thought he knew and grafted into wisdom from those he might have ignored or interrupted if he still had his voice.

While Zechariah is coming to terms with these stages, the angel is making another visit, surprising another unlikely character with news that changes everything.

Mary is a young woman who has only just left childhood behind thanks to menstrual blood that meant it was time for marriage and babies. She has been betrothed to a man named Joseph, who by all accounts checks out as a stand up, faithful Jewish guy.

The angel says, “Greetings, favored one, the Lord is with you!” It seems no matter how friendly the angel’s greeting, it results in surprise and fear. Again, Gabriel must assure the human that they mean no harm and there’s no cause for fear. Gabriel explains that God has chosen her to bless the world with the birth of God’s only son, the Savior of the world.

Mary has a few logistical questions about this announcement since she knows enough about sex to know she hasn’t had it before. Her question must give the angel a sense of curiosity or awe, because Gabriel doesn’t silence her for disbelief or needing proof. Rather, the angel explains the Holy Spirit’s presence and the news of her older cousin, Elizabeth, a miracle to hold onto, a sign that is already preparing the way.

It is enough to give Mary’s faith and courage voice. She agrees to the plan and, as soon as the angel departs, the story says Mary rises (is resurrected) in posture. She gets up and goes quickly to visit Elizabeth.

70 miles direct, 100 miles when avoiding Samaria. On foot. Alone.

The risen Mary is on a mission and the angel’s promise is ringing in her ears: nothing is impossible with God.

I wonder whether Elizabeth has been relishing or resenting Zechariah’s silence. We don’t know what it has meant for the details of the day to day, but it appears Elizabeth is the one opening the door and welcoming guests to their humble abode.

She flings wide the door with greetings and blessings and exclamations, with bold announcements of what is to come that refills whatever confidence and courage was depleted in Mary along the way:

Blessed are you among women and blessed is the child in your womb! How lucky I am that the mother of my Lord has come to visit me? Can you believe it? When I heard your voice and knew you had arrived, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. Thank God for you and your call and your YES and your faith, Mary. Thank God for you!

It is enough. It is enough to make Mary sing. And it is enough to keep nations singing thousands of years later. This blessing that points to something else, that celebrates what is not quite revealed holds power. Because it is one thing to prepare the way for yourself; your hot takes, your credentials, your political preference, your personal comfort; but it’s another thing to prepare the way for someone else and something else, to announce a blessing for that which you do not fully comprehend or contain, to delight in the presence of a possibility that resides in someone else for the sake of everyone else.

The story says Mary embraced her cousin, drawing Elizabeth to herself, closing in on this blessing that comes with the same wide openness as that doorway, a liberation she wanted up close.

It is a gift to be seen and greeted like that. To be known completely and loved so fiercely anyway. To be announced as a multidimensional blessing that becomes an embarrassment of riches and balm on the cracks of our worries and fears.

The Bechdel test (/ˈbɛkdəl/ BEK-dəl), is a measure of the representation of women in fiction. It asks whether a work features at least two women who talk to each other about something other than a man. The requirement that the two women must be named is sometimes added.

These women spend a whole trimester together, months in companionship and conversation. Who knows what else they said and sang? I am grateful we get this much and muse about the rest: two women who are seen and heard and known and loved; who contain multitudes of blessing and friendship that give us a glimpse of what it looks like to build up and prepare the way for the kingdom of God right here.

Sometimes I hear this story and I feel like Zechariah, who needs a time out from sharing his own opinion, and in the silence, finds it is not so much a punishment but an opportunity, a way into deeper listening and sacred waiting that will change his voice forever.

Sometimes I hear the story and feel like Elizabeth, healthy and hopeful and overflowing with good news for others, words that heal and a voice that does not fail.

Sometimes I hear the story and I feel like Joseph, out of sight and wracking my brain, trying to decide between a few crummy choices and laws that bind; because I’m not quite sure if I belong in the story.

And sometimes I hear the story and I feel like Mary, like I had a brave moment, but it’s past; like I’m sweaty and dusty and hungry and tired and I don’t know what I need until I hear it bellowed from an open door, from the sure and steady voice of someone else who somehow knows.

Wherever you find yourself in the story today, pause to notice how far off the beaten path Luke has led you; from Caesar and Herod to a humble home in the hill country; you’ll find a blessing there. You’ll find the strength you need to listen longer, or prepare the way for someone else, the inkling of another way forward, or a familiar exclamation that raises you up to new life all over again.

Wherever you find yourself in the story today, remember to keep moving in and through the gift you need for the sake of someone else. Because blessings flow. They move like highways of God’s delight, like circulatory systems that pump the gospel throughout creation. These blessings are meant to be announced, embraced, shared, and sent forth.

For when they prepare the way beyond ourselves and our best laid plans, they have the power to burst into songs that never end.