Text Study for Luke 1:39-55 (Pt. 5); December 19, 2021

Let Heaven and Nature Sing

On the fourth Sunday of Advent in the year of Luke, the hits just keep coming. We’ve talked about Jael and Judith, and Hannah and Elizabeth. But we have not yet come to the oldest of songs, the Song of Miriam in Exodus 15. Rolf Jacobson has an excellent discussion of the relationship between Mary’s song and the Song of Miriam in his workingpreacher.org commentary on the psalm for this Sunday.

The psalm? Yes, in the Revised Common Lectionary the Magnificat is the appointed and preferred psalm reading (or singing) for this Sunday. On the one hand, the Magnificat is a psalm (or perhaps a medley of psalm references) and a song. So, it should be sung, and a variety of settings is available for that purpose. On the other hand, it is one of the most important texts in the Lukan account and should not be detached from its context any more than necessary.

What is the liturgical solution to this scriptural dilemma? I think the best response to most either/or choices is “Yes.” Sing it as the psalm at the time of the psalm in worship – if that’s what you do. Then read it as part of the gospel lection at the appointed time as well. This can help liturgically oriented congregations remember that most of the sung liturgy is simply quoting scriptural texts. And it can remind us that in our singing we should pay attention to texts as well.

The Exodus references in the Magnificat are fairly transparent. Especially the second half of the psalm, from verses fifty-one through fifty-three reminds us of the flight from Egypt. The reference to the “strength of his arm” is a clear reference to the power of God to rescue the enslaved from tyranny and oppression. The “strong arm of the Lord” is a frequent scriptural reference to God’s power and desire to free all those who are held in bondage.

Mary refers to herself as a “slave” in verse forty-eight. She names Israel as the “slave of the Lord” in verse fifty-four. While these labels are and should be problematic for us, especially in predominantly White, western, European churches, they can remind us of the liberation focus of Mary’s psalm. In the Exodus, the powerful is brought down from his throne. The hungry are filled with good things both at the Passover and in the wilderness wanderings.

Of course, Mary’s name in the Greek is actually “Mariam” or “Miriam.” The Magnificat is, in a deep and powerful way, the second song of Miriam. It is an announcement of the Exodus finally and completely fulfilled. The Great Reversal is not merely the humbling of Pharaoh but rather the humiliation of each and every power that seeks to lower the lowly, starve the hungry, and imagine itself as the Master of the Universe.

The psalm begins on a deeply personal note, but it shifts to a communal and historic focus in the second half. In a significant sense, Mary embodies and recapitulates Israel. What happens to her in microcosm is what God intends for Israel in the macrocosm. The psalm reaches back through Miriam to Sarah and Abraham. Israel bears the Messiah for the saving of the world.

If the description of Mary as a humiliated slave is purely personal, it might be offensive and require us to distance ourselves from such a portrayal of a woman. But if Mary represents Israel, then the phrase is historically descriptive. In the Exodus from Egypt and the Return from Exile, God has dealt favorably with those downcast in slavery and done great things for them.

Just as Abraham was blessed in order to be a blessing to all the families of the earth, so now Mary is blessed. That blessing, to be the bearer of God’s presence in and for the world, will be remembered by all generations. Most important, God has remembered this mercy for Israel, just as God promised in the covenant with Abraham and his descendants.

Mary represents and embodies faithful Israel. She is certainly portrayed as the prototype of a faithful disciple in her response to the Annunciation. Here the Lukan author shows her to be the representative of Israel, bringing forth the Messiah and rejoicing in the vocation.

Why does this matter, apart from historical and literary concerns? There is an interplay in the Magnificat of the personal and the communal. You can’t have the one without the other. Salvation is never a merely personal reality. Salvation of the individual person is always rooted in the rescue of all – of all flesh, if we trust what the Lukan author wants us to hear.

Western Protestantism, especially in its Evangelical flavors, tends to focus exclusively on the individual being saved. Salvation is a sort of additive process. If every individual in the cosmos would be saved, then the whole cosmos will be saved. I know that’s a bit of a caricature of the perspective, but I think it’s close enough in the thinking of many Christians. I need to focus on my own salvation. You need to focus on yours. Then let’s meet together at the end.

This perspective fits snugly into the Individualism which is part and parcel, first of the Enlightenment modernism – with its horror of group identities and the warfare such tribalism can produce – and then postmodern theories of truth, knowledge, and ethics as being true for the individual only, since there is no Truth with a capital “T.” It is one of the oddities of history that a theological movement committed to maintain Tradition is comfortable with one of the most radical propositions of modern and postmodern thought.

God’s rescue from Sin, Death, and the Devil is a project directed at the whole of Creation, the entire cosmos which God loves. My “being saved” is a part of that project, not the entire goal of the project. If I think that my being saved is enough, will be complete, without the rescue of all that God loves, then I am still caught in the malignant narcissism which is so much the definition of Sin. I am with David Bentley Hart, among others, on this one. The logic of salvation is that God desires that all shall be saved. And “all” means ALL.

Notice, therefore, how the song moves from Mary’s personal joy to a joy for the rescue, release, and redemption of all. At least it’s a song that moves from Mary to the whole of Israel. The mention of Abraham and blessing reminds us that the purpose of Israel’s existence is to be a blessing to all the families of the earth, not merely to themselves.

I always think that the fourth Sunday in Advent is the time to break out “Joy to the World” as the transition from the marvelous hymns of Advent to the glad songs of Christmas. It is, in our ELCA hymnals, the first hymn in the Christmas section. It could just as easily be the final hymn in the Advent section. The universal scope of Isaac Watts’ text amplifies the message of the Magnificat to great effect.

There is always, of course, the danger of triumphalism. There is the danger that we think God’s triumph over Sin, Death, and the Devil is a triumph over our political enemies as well. When a human system embodies arrogant power, control of resources, concentration of wealth and power, and enslavement of the poor, then God will triumph over that system in the end. However, it is not (as Abraham Lincoln so wisely observed) that God is on our side. The question always is whether or not we are on God’s “side.” When we believe and act as if God is on our “side,” we are guilty of triumphalism.

Allan A. Boesak argues that we see a move from rejoicing to triumphalism in the text as it unfolds after Miriam’s song in Exodus. The temptation is often to claim God’s triumph as our own. We do that in individual terms when we act as if God finally wised up and saved me because I’m so good. We do that in communal terms when we make our power preferences determinative for how God operates in the world.

“In biblical Israel,” Boesak writes, “the mark of greatness was not superiority in war and domination in imitation of empire. It was instead the imitation of the power of Yahweh: liberation from slavery, steadfast mercy and love, and justice done to the vulnerable, the widow, the stranger and the orphan. Indeed: Israel’s very greatness,” he continues, “was in preserving the presence of faithful prophetic witness, proclaiming this God, over against the gods of ‘the nations’” (page 5).

If anyone could be tempted to think, “This is about me,” it would be Mary. Yet, that is precisely what doesn’t happen. Her song moves from the personal to the communal, from the individual to the social, from the particular to the cosmic, because that is where God’s interests lie and what Christmas is about. It is not an opposition of “me” against “the world.” There cannot be the one without the other. If my salvation is disconnected from the redemption of all, it’s not salvation. If my salvation is not God’s concern for me within that larger picture, then we’re talking about the wrong God.

Watts says it well when he puts “let earth receive her king” and “let every heart prepare him room” in the same sentence. These are not separate or competing areas of interest for God. They are the same theater of operations, simply in different dimensions.

The outcome should be obvious for us as Jesus followers. If God’s focus is both me and bigger than me, then should our focus be any different? Christmas joy is a political position or it’s not worth the bother.

References and Resources

Boesak, Allan A. “The riverbank, the seashore and the wilderness: Miriam, liberation and prophetic witness against empire.” HTS Teologiese Studies/Theological Studies 73.4 (2017).

Croy, N. Clayton, and Alice E. Connor. “Mantic Mary? The Virgin Mother as Prophet in Luke 1.26-56 and the Early Church.” (2011).

Gonzalez, Justo L. Luke: Belief, A Theological Commentary on the Bible. Westminster John Knox Press. Kindle Edition.

Jacobson, Karl. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-3/commentary-on-luke-139-45-46-55.

Jacobson, Rolf, https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-3/commentary-on-luke-146-55-3.

Malcolm, Lois E., “Experiencing the Spirit: The Magnificat, Luther, and Feminists” (2010). Faculty Publications. 275. https://digitalcommons.luthersem.edu/faculty_articles/275.

Skinner, Matthew L., “Looking High and Low for Salvation in Luke” (2018). Faculty Publications. 306. https://digitalcommons.luthersem.edu/faculty_articles/306.

Wilson, Brittany E. “Pugnacious precursors and the bearer of peace: Jael, Judith, and Mary in Luke 1: 42.” The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 68.3 (2006): 436-456.

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Text Study for Luke 1:39-55 (Pt. 4); December 19, 2021

Listen to the Music

“Mary’s song,” writes Richard Swanson, “establishes her as a resister” (page 70). The Magnificat is the first piece of testimony in the Lukan “hidden transcript.” But the Magnificat is not the first such song in the Hebrew and Christian scriptures. It is now regarded as beyond doubt that Mary’s song is modeled on and refers to the Song of Hannah in 1 Samuel 2.

Karl Jacobson offers a good comparison between the Song of Hannah in 1 Samuel 2 and the Song of Mary in Luke 1 as part of his workingpreacher.org commentary. He lists the similarities between the two prophetic outbursts. Both Hannah and Mary exclaim their joy in their God. They both trust the promise that God acts on behalf of the lowly despite what we might expect. They both proclaim that what happens to them also is done through them for the whole people.

“Both Hannah and Mary sing a song that can be, should be, our song in this Advent season,” Jacobson writes. “As we have prepared for the coming of the Christ Child, now we too can sing in thanksgiving, in celebration, in remembrance, and in proclamation of the promise made to our ancestors. Like Hannah, and Mary, and Elizabeth too,” he concludes, “this is the time for us to indulge in unadulterated, celebratory joy in the promises that come to us in Jesus. Let us raise our voices in a great cry, magnifying our God.”

The Lukan author uses the Song of Hannah as a model, a template, a pattern, and a source of vocabulary for the Magnificat. But Justo Gonzalez argues that the relationship is more than a kind of first-century homage or plagiarism. He urges us to see the relationship as one of typology rather than mere template.

Reading texts in Hebrew scripture as typology is as old as the Jesus movement. Paul relies on typology in several of his letters. The early Church theologians relied heavily on typology as a method of interpretation. Gonzalez quotes Justin Martyr in his Dialogue with Trypho, eighty years after the Lukan author wrote: “Sometimes, by action of the Holy Spirit, something took place that was clearly a type of the future. But at other times the Spirit spoke in words about what was to happen, as if it were present or past” (Kindle Location 534).

The “words” Justin mentions are what we would call spoken prophecies. There are certainly such “words” in both the Song of Hannah and the Magnificat. Mary, in particular, speaks of things as already accomplished which have yet to take place in their fullness. The “type” that Justin notes is not the words of the writer but rather the event itself about which the writer speaks. “Both point to the future,” Gonzalez notes, “but in one case what points to the future is the text itself, and in the other it is the event of which the text speaks” (Kindle Location 538).

The Lukan author wants us to see the Song of Hannah not merely as an earlier example but rather as an interpretive frame of reference for understanding the Magnificat. The point of typology is that this is always how God works. We’re not dealing with mere historical contingencies but rather with the deeper structure and unfolding of God’s plan in and through history.

In addition, the latter member of the typology (in this case, the Magnificat) is really the fulfillment of the previous member of the typology. It’s not that somehow the Song of Hannah “predicts” the Magnificat and its content. No, it’s not that kind of fulfillment. What we mean here is that what the Song of Hannah hinted at through the history of Israel comes to fruition in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus and the coming of the Kin(g)dom of God through him. It is “fulfillment” in the sense of filling to fullest, bringing to flower, ready for harvest.

This is why, when the Lukan author makes references to texts and events in the Hebrew scriptures, the Lukan author always improves upon and even excels beyond the previous “models.” This isn’t a way to show off for the audience. Instead, this is a literary way to demonstrate that Jesus and his movement are the culmination of that path and plan that have been in action from the beginning.

It’s not only the Lukan author who sees things this way. Think about the beginning of the Letter to the Hebrews. “Long ago God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, through whom he also created the worlds” (Hebrews 1:1-2). It is not that the previous witness was wrong or superfluous. The argument is, rather, that it contained the seeds of what has now born fruit.

“What Luke is doing in borrowing from the Song of Hannah for the Magnificat,” Gonzalez writes, “is precisely this sort of typological interpretation” (Kindle Location 548). Karl Jacobson’s commentary does an excellent job of demonstrating the parallelisms between the two songs, so we don’t have to review that here. But we can say that Hannah is a “type” for Mary, and Samuel is a “type” for Jesus.

Gonzalez argues that the typology has the most to do with barren mothers who miraculously conceive a son. He is careful to assert, however, that the stories are about more than the reversal of infertility and the vindication of these women. “The significance of the story of these barren women is also in the child who is born to them,” he writes. “Their barrenness is the sign that God has intervened in history to permit the birth of this child. And the child is an essential element,” he concludes, “in the continuation of the people of God” (Kindle Locations 554-556).

The Lukan author builds on this theme by placing the stories of Elizabeth and Mary, John and Jesus, next to one another. John is the forerunner. Jesus is the fulfillment. Gonzalez says of Mary, “In the child born of her the long history of agents of God born of barren women comes to its culmination. Its meaning has been fulfilled” (Kindle Location 563).

I think there is even more going on in this typological relationship. Samuel will warn the people of Israel about the dangers awaiting them if they choose to have a king like the nations around them. Their children will be pressed into imperial service. Their wealth will be siphoned off by royal taxes and levies. They will be forced to fight wars of conquest rather than defense. They will be governed by the interests of empire rather than the interests of the home.

This is a description of life under the later reign of David and the reign of Solomon. It is an inventory of complaints that led to the fracturing of the Solomonic regime into northern and southern kingdoms. It is also a precise description of life in Galilee in the first century under imperial Roman rule.

The books of Samuel and Kings have “hidden transcripts of resistance” buried in the text. While Samuel at one point offers this pointed critique of monarchy, at another point he is portrayed as supporting the establishment of a monarchy. The history books in the Hebrew scriptures were originally composed and compiled as an apology for the monarchy. I would argue, however, that in ways both obvious and subtle, a critique of the monarchy can be found in those documents as well.

Does that sound like someone we know? Samuel fell short in his efforts to resist the establishment of what became an oppressive monarchy. Jesus takes on the powers behind all human oppression, takes in those powers on the cross, defeats them in the resurrection, and replaces them at the ascension. If one of the functions of typology is fulfillment of the type by the later edition, then Jesus is the definition of such fulfillment.

“In placing these words on the lips of Mary,” Gonzalez writes, “Luke is letting us know both that the story he is about to tell is the culmination of the history of Israel, and that this history—and certainly its culmination—is of a great reversal in which the lowly are made high, the high are brought low, the hungry are filled with good things while the rich are sent away empty, the last become first, and the least become the greatest” (Kindle Location 580).

Why does this matter to us as preachers? The mission of resistance, reversal, and resurrection has been the plan and path of God for as long as there have been paths and plans. We can see the pattern of that mission throughout the Scriptures if we have eyes open to see it. This plan and path are not new inventions, not accommodations to culture, not new political or social fads. This is the music of creation, and we get to hear some of its songs.

There is a caveat we must always remember. We dare not engage in triumphalism or supersessionism. The Christian gospel does not “replace” what came before it. We do not appropriate Hebrew texts as “ours” now receiving the “right” interpretation. Our Jewish forebears and siblings have come to this place ahead of us and have much to teach us. We can only respond with gratitude and respect, with partnership and appreciation. Any other approach dangerously misses the point.

References and Resources

Croy, N. Clayton, and Alice E. Connor. “Mantic Mary? The Virgin Mother as Prophet in Luke 1.26-56 and the Early Church.” (2011).

Gonzalez, Justo L. Luke: Belief, A Theological Commentary on the Bible. Westminster John Knox Press. Kindle Edition.

Jacobson, Karl. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-3/commentary-on-luke-139-45-46-55.

Malcolm, Lois E., “Experiencing the Spirit: The Magnificat, Luther, and Feminists” (2010). Faculty Publications. 275. https://digitalcommons.luthersem.edu/faculty_articles/275.

Swanson, Richard. Provoking the Gospel of Luke: A Storyteller’s Commentary, Year C. Cleveland, OH.: Pilgrim Press, 2006.

Wilson, Brittany E. “Pugnacious precursors and the bearer of peace: Jael, Judith, and Mary in Luke 1: 42.” The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 68.3 (2006): 436-456.

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Text Study for Luke 1:39-55 (Pt. 2); December 19, 2021

Using the Back Door

The Gospel of Luke is a “dual process” document. When we read and interpret the account, we must look for multiple meanings and purposes in any and all of the texts. For example, the Lukan account is an apologia designed to make the Christian movement less threatening to Imperial authorities and more palatable to potential Gentile converts. It is also a “hidden transcript of resistance” that seeks to challenge and subvert the values of Imperial ideology and culture.

The Lukan author has a particular passion for the poor and an eye toward the wealthy who can be part of the movement under the right behavioral conditions. The author elevates the role of personal agency in repentance and renewal and highlights the work of the Holy Spirit in individuals and communities more than any other gospel account. The Lukan gospel is an invitation to hear and a call to do.

The Lukan author lifts up the ministry of women and makes them appear unduly subservient. The Lukan gospel affirms the absolute continuity between the Jesus movement and the vocation of biblical Israel. And this gospel tempts Christians to supersessionism in ways that are both surprising and shocking.

The Lukan author seeks to encourage a subversive and transformational movement without getting everyone killed in the process.

Thus, as we read and interpret the Lukan account, we need to attend not only to what is said, but also how, when, and by whom something is said. The Lukan author conveys as much or more by narrative structure, style, and tactics as the author does by the content of the narrative itself. If you find the Lukan gospel to be at times confusing and contradictory, that means you are paying close attention. That’s what happens when a theologian tries to satisfy several goals at once, and not all of them complementary to one another.

Lois Malcolm deals with some of these textual tensions in her chapter of the 2010 book, n Transformative Lutheran Theologies: Feminist, Womanist, and Mujerista Perspectives. In this chapter Malcolm seeks to understand and explicate Luther’s commentary on the Magnificat and to show that Martin Luther sees Mary as a model of witness and faith for us. In the process, she helps us to see the importance of the Holy Spirit for Martin Luther (and for us who bear that tradition) in spite of the reputed Lutheran allergy to experience and embrace of the work of the Spirit.

As Malcolm points out, Luther was critical both of the Augustinian mysticism in which he was formed as a monk and the “enthusiastic” emphasis on the Holy Spirit demonstrated by some members of the later Reformation community. Luther’s understanding of the work of the Spirit was rooted in Romans 8:26 and the assurance that the Spirit intercedes for us in our weakness.

This work is always the work of creation – and particularly creation out of nothing, as was the case in the Genesis account. Thus, the Spirit makes something out of nothing, brings life out of death. “It is here,” Malcolm writes, “in the midst of life’s struggles and not in our higher strivings and aspirations, that the Spirit works in the strange garb of sin and suffering, showing us a God who is continually turning to those lost in sin and death in order to create new life out of nothing – life out of death” (page 167).

With this understanding of the work of the Holy Spirit, it is not surprising that Luther would find a powerful text in the call of Mary and her response in the Magnificat. Before we come to that assessment, however, Malcolm leads us to listen to feminist critiques of this understanding.

For one who has been told for a lifetime and culturally that she is, in significant ways, “nothing,” this reduction to “nothing” before being newly created sounds like the same old stuff. “Rather than opening into transformation and a new beginning,” Malcolm writes, “this conversion story simply reenacts this woman’s story of a cultural unraveling she knows only too well – more like sin than the freeing act of divine mercy” (page 168).

Malcolm invites us to keep this critique in mind as we hear Luther’s commentary on the Magnificat. Malcolm observes that Luther looks at Mary’s experience of God seeing her at the lowest point. It is at this point that Mary experiences, in Malcolm’s terms, both mystical exaltation and prophetic witness.

Luther attributes three insights to Mary in her experience. First, she teaches us that the Spirit creates out of nothing and reaches us at our lowest points. Second, the Spirit is not a one-size-fits-all experience. Instead, God brings down the mighty and raises up the powerless. “Those in affliction hear words of comfort,” Malcolm writes, “those who are self-satisfied – and oppress others – hear words that terrify them” (page 168).

Third, Mary’s experience teaches us that how God sees things and how we see things are quite different. God looks into the depths of human misery to raise us up. We humans look at what is above only to fall down. This is, as Malcolm notes, the real difference between the Theology of the Cross and the Theology of Glory. “Because we cannot create what we desire,” Malcolm notes, “as human beings we tend only to love or desire what we find attractive or appealing. By contrast,” she continues, “as Luther pointed out in the Heidelberg Disputation, God’s love always creates what it desires” (page 169).

God sees Mary in the depths of life and calls her to the heights of faith, hope, and love. She puts her trust, according to Luther, not in the gifts but rather in The Giver. She loves God for God, not for what God will produce. She can do that by the Spirit’s power because she is loved “for nothing” rather than for what she can produce. This love, which is the fruit of faith given by the Spirit, is the only source of real peace for the believer.

The Magnificat begins with that mystical experience of God’s unconditional regard, but it does not end there. The result of that experience is Mary’s “prophetic witness to God’s great transforming work of justice in history” (page 171). This witness issues forth at precisely the moment when Mary is at her “lowest,” just as the great work of Life issues forth precisely when Jesus dies on the cross.

“The Magnificat does not tell a tale of God meeting a prideful sinner,” Malcolm writes, “Rather, it tells a tale of God meeting a woman whom society has seen as insignificant and giving her a new status…as well as a new sense of agency in God’s coming reign…Far from recapitulating the dynamics of her previous life,” Malcolm argues, “Mary was transformed and entered a new beginning” (page 173).

Yet, there is more going on here, Malcolm believes: “this tale of Mary’s mystical exaltation and prophetic agency is not merely a tale about a reversal of power” (page 173). Instead, it is a story of how God regards the lowly, the one who is “nothing,” and creates Life out of the nothing. Merely reversing the roles in the drama of power changes nothing. Instead, Mary bears witness to the God who seeks to dismantle the drama of power itself.

I noted earlier that as we read and interpret the Lukan account, we need to attend not only to what is said, but also how, when, and by whom something is said. That is certainly the case with the Annunciation and the Magnificat. The content of the song is radically subversive and a threat to the established powers and structures of the Empire. How does the Lukan author maintain that hidden transcript without blowing up the whole project in the first chapter?

I think it matters that the content comes in a song rather than in a manifesto or speech. Songs have a way of slipping in the back doors of our awareness and making changes in our feeling and thinking before we are aware of those changes.

One of my favorite musical settings of the Annunciation and the Magnificat is in Marty Haugen’s Holden Evening Prayer. This is beloved by thousands of worshippers. The music in these sections is beautiful. I wonder how much impact the words have because our minds and hearts are focused on that music while the Spirit is doing work in the background and under the surface? Quite a lot of work, I think.

I think it matters that the content comes with the voice of a woman. I wonder if the Lukan author uses the deep misogyny of the Roman patriarchal system against itself. Perhaps the author relied on the tendency of some readers to discount the testimony of a woman simply because she was woman. Thus, that testimony might not have been regarded consciously as a threat even as it worked once again in the background of thinking and feeling.

I’m not suggesting that the Lukan author discounted that testimony in the same way. Here is one of those places where we have to discern the dual process of the Lukan account. The Lukan author may be using the realities of the culture to undermine and subvert the values of that culture. It’s analogous to the power these days that political humor has to reach people when diatribes fall on deaf ears.

Hang on to this proposal as we go further into the Lukan account. Think about it, for example, when we read the parable of the Insistent Widow in Luke 18. Perhaps the Lukan author understands that in his culture, women could get away with things that men could not. That required faith, courage, and the willingness to exploit the opportunity.

Where might there be places where we can wedge our witness into the cracks in our own culture?

References and Resources

Malcolm, Lois E., “Experiencing the Spirit: The Magnificat, Luther, and Feminists” (2010). Faculty Publications. 275. https://digitalcommons.luthersem.edu/faculty_articles/275.

Wilson, Brittany E. “Pugnacious precursors and the bearer of peace: Jael, Judith, and Mary in Luke 1: 42.” The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 68.3 (2006): 436-456.

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Text Study for Luke 1:39-55 (Pt. 1); December 19, 2021

Not All Blessings are Equal

In these early days of our journey with the Lukan author, we preachers have the opportunity and the responsibility to remind listeners of themes and emphases that will persist throughout the Lukan account. One of those themes is the importance of the witness and ministry of women. Another is the theme of reversals. Yet another is the nonviolent and yet resistant nature of the work of disciples. Still another is the nature of discipleship as the Lukan author understands it. We get all of these themes and more in our reading for this week.

Scholars recognize that Elizabeth’s cry in Luke 1:42 is an echo of Judges 5:24 (NRSV) – “Most blessed of women be Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite, of tent-dwelling women most blessed.” They also hear in this outcry an echo of Judith 13:18 (NRSV) – “Then Uzziah said to her, ‘O daughter, you are blessed by the Most High God above all other women on earth; and blessed be the Lord God, who created the heavens and the earth, who has guided you to cut off the head of the leader of our enemies.’”

Photo by RODNAE Productions on Pexels.com

“Though interpreters, both ancient and modern, have heard Judg 5:24 and Jdt 13:18 as echoes,” Brittany Wilson writes, “they often emphasize only the continuity between Jael, Judith, and Mary, overlooking the obvious point of discontinuity—namely, that Jael and Judith are blessed for killing enemy commanders whereas Mary is blessed for believing the words of the Lord and bearing a son” (page 436). Wilson looks at Elizabeth’s declaration through the lens of discontinuity between Mary and Jael/Judith.

“According to Luke, Mary’s peaceful servanthood foreshadows the life and death of her son,” Wilson writes, “who overcomes violence through peace. Indeed,” she continues, “Mary ushers in a new age, in which women are called most blessed for their acts of peace rather than for their acts of violence” (page 438). This theme of peace is a major focus for the Lukan author and one which we can encourage our listeners to watch for in future readings. More on that below.

Wilson traces the historical background of the interpretive connection between Mary, Jael, and Judith, the access the Lukan author had to the texts and the way the author used both the Book of Judges and the Book of Judith in the Lukan work, and the extensive textual and linguistic echoes from Jael and Judith in the Lukan account.

Wilson also notes that, based on the structural analysis of Richard Bauckham (who finds a chiastic structure in Luke 1:5-80), verses 39-45 are the central and pivotal verses in the first chapter of Luke. Remember that ancient writers relied a great deal on the structure of a text to indicate emphases as well as connections. It may be that Luke 1:42 is, therefore, the center of the center of this first part of the Lukan account.

What is the connection that the Lukan author wishes to make between Mary, Jael, and Judith? “Jael and Judith are, in fact, the only named women in the entirety of Israel’s writings, both canonical and noncanonical, who kill a person with their own hands and are then exalted for assisting the people of Israel,” Wilson notes. She observes that as literary figures or images, “Jael and Judith are remembered mainly for their dismemberment of Israel’s enemies” (page 442).

Jael, Wilson notes, acts as a “mother” toward Sisera before driving the tent peg through his temple. As Danna Nolan Fewell writes, Jael is “the woman who mothers Sisera to death.” Judith is more seductress than mother but is no less “blessed.” Wilson notes that, in fact, the story of Jael serves as the template for the story of Judith, so the similarities in the stories are intentional and quite obvious. But how does Mary fit into this trio?

“Of the trio of biblical women called ‘most blessed,’ Wilson continues, “it becomes apparent that Mary’s faithfulness to Israel stands in stark contrast to her pugnacious predecessors” (page 447). Most obvious in this contrast is the lack of physical violence in Mary’s story. Even the theme of motherhood is a contrast since Mary’s motherhood will give life rather than take it. “Of course, Jael and Judith bring life to Israel through establishing temporary peace,” Wilson notes, “yet the manner by which they achieve this peace is drastically different” (page 448). Rather than engaging in violence, Mary puts herself at risk of violence by placing herself in a precarious social and personal position.

As in the stories of Jael and Judith, the “victory” Mary embodies is proclaimed in a song (well, two songs in the Lukan account). Wilson notes that the songs in the Jael and Judith stories recount and celebrate both the acts of violence and the defeat and death of the enemies. Neither Elizabeth’s song nor Mary’s song has that violent aspect. And Mary’s song ends with the prayer for mercy on the enemies, not execution.

Mary is not called blessed for doing violence but rather for being willing to hear and to obey God’s word. “Instead of being portrayed as a woman warrior,” Wilson concludes, “Mary is presented as a woman disciple, a peaceful hearer and doer of God’s word” (page 449). Therefore, Mary is displayed as a role model for disciples in the Lukan account – one who hears the word of the Lord and does it. “Responding to God’s word, through both listening to and acting on that word,” Wilson writes, “is an essential aspect of discipleship in Luke” (450).

Wilson notes the passage that came to mind for me immediately in this reflection. “While [Jesus] was saying this, a woman in the crowd raised her voice and said to him, ‘Blessed is the womb that bore you and the breasts that nursed you!’ But he said, ‘Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and obey it!’” (Luke 11:27-28, NRSV). Here, on the lips of Jesus, is the Lukan description of the essence of being a disciple. These verses contrast Mary’s “natural” relationship to Jesus with her conduct as a prototypical disciple.

Wilson then moves to a third intertextual echo in Elizabeth’s cry. Deuteronomy 28 lists the blessings and benefits of obedience to the Lord. In particular, we can hear the echo of Deuteronomy 28:4 (NRSV) – “Blessed shall be the fruit of your womb, the fruit of your ground, and the fruit of your livestock, both the increase of your cattle and the issue of your flock.” The blessings come from hearing the Lord’s commands and carrying them out.

Jael and Judith listened to the command of the Lord as well and acted. Their actions, however, were violent, while Mary’s response is not. “The peaceful act of listening to the Lord creates a marked contrast with Judith and Jael’s actions,” Wilson notes, making the dissonance all the more jarring” (page 453). The emphasis on peace is a Lukan theme. The word for “peace” appears in the Lukan account at least four times as often as in the other Synoptics.

Wilson describes how this emphasis works out in the later chapters of the Lukan account. “Advocating healing rather than killing, Jesus’ actions stand in stark contrast to his disciples’ misperception that peace can be achieved through the sword,” she argues. “At the point when the disciples’ use of the sword could most easily be justified [during Jesus’ arrest in Gethsemane], Jesus still emphatically rejects violence, knowing that he is to die a violent death by the hand of those determined to bring about his demise” (page 454).

It may be worth noting in both the Advent and Christmas texts the prevalence of “peace” and the centrality of peace to the coming Kin(g)dom. We only have to listen to the song of the angels to hear this emphasis on peace. But we don’t have to wait for that song to hear this emphasis and know its important. “At the outset of the Gospel, Mary’s radical obedience to the Lord foreshadows her son’s radical obedience,” Wilson writes. “Both mother and son reject violence,” she continues, “Mary not only embodies peace because of her act of discipleship; she embodies peace by carrying within her very womb the savior who brings peace to the world” (page 455).

Then comes the question which has driven Wilson’s essay from the beginning. “Since Mary’s faithful discipleship ushers in her son’s peaceful reign,” Wilson asks, “why does Luke provide textual linkages to the two most violent women in all of Israel’s sacred writings?” (page 455). On the one hand, these linkages show a continuity with the women who save Israel from their enemies. She is the latest in a long line of those who reverse the dynamics of gender, political, and economic power that seek to keep people in bondage.

In spite of that, there is the discontinuity. Since the Lukan author uses this discontinuity, we are reminded that the Lukan author could assume a deep and intimate knowledge of the Hebrew Scriptures (probably in their Septuagint translation) on the part of the Lukan audience. “To the attuned hearer who catches the scriptural references and who already knows the story of Jesus,” Wilson proposes, “the irony practically pops off the page” (page 455). This irony demands that such an attuned reader would think about the discontinuity.

“Luke envisions Jesus’ story as the continuation of Israel’s story,” Wilson writes, “yet he revisions the continuing story in surprising and sometimes startling new ways” (page 456). The Lukan author challenged the first listeners and readers to hear and process those revisions. The author challenges us in the same way, Wilson argues. “From now on,” she writes, “those who are called blessed follow not the way of violence but the way of peace. Like Mary,” she concludes, “believers are to hear and act on the message of peace proclaimed by the fruit of her womb – Jesus Christ, the prince of peace” (page 456).

References and Resources

Wilson, Brittany E. “Pugnacious precursors and the bearer of peace: Jael, Judith, and Mary in Luke 1: 42.” The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 68.3 (2006): 436-456.

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Text Study for Luke 1:26-38, Pt. 2

2. The Impossible Possibility

With God, all things may be possible. We could easily miss the scriptural connections in this phrase. It takes us back to Genesis 18 and the story of Sarah and Abraham. The couple is visited by three men as they are camp under the oaks of Mamre. During the conversation it becomes clear that the visitors are, somehow, God.

They bring the promise that Sarah will bear a child even though “it had ceased to be with Sarah after the manner of women.” Sarah perhaps finds the whole idea a bit ridiculous and laughs out loud. The men respond, “Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?” This question is rendered in the Septuagint as, “Is any promise impossible for God?” Some manuscripts of Luke pick up the echoes of this verse in a small addition to the Greek text. That scribal enthusiasm makes it clear that readers had the Old Testament story in mind as they read the Annunciation account.

Sarah, understandably, laughs at the ludicrous suggestion. Mary trusts in the promise she has heard. Nothing is too wonderful for the Lord.

Nothing, Mary hears, is impossible for God. That does not mean, however, that all things may be easy. I think we do a disservice to Mary, to our listeners, and to the Gospel when we make this a simple “trust and obey” story. The stakes for Mary here are literally life and death. She responds not only with obedience but with courage and determination.

“Mary, in the annunciation, becomes the patroness, of all who are called by God to do impossible things,” Rick Morley writes. “Of those who become embarrassments to their family and communities on behalf of God. She reminds us that the godly thing isn’t always the prim-and-proper thing. Sometimes when we answer God’s call, we become a laughingstock. Or, even worse,” he concludes. “persecuted.”

David Lose looks at how Mary’s life was utterly derailed and disrupted by this announcement and the events that followed. “Do we think God is done interrupting people’s lives to use them for the health of the world,” Lose asks, “or might we imagine that God is still doing things just like this? Further, might we look around at the people in our congregation and see them as those persons who are also favored by God and through whom God plans to do marvelous things?”

I wonder if Mary ever wished that things could “go back to normal”? Did she ever wish that she could go back to being a teenager in a no-name village in a Galilean backwater? We live in a time when people are nearly overwhelmed with the desire to “go back to normal.” We wonder that out loud at almost every turn. When will things get back to some semblance of normality?

“Back to normal” was not an option for Mary. There was no putting the toothpaste back in the tube on this one. Gabriel’s announcement to Mary has all the classic marks of gospel. It is news that will irrevocably change the world, both present and future. It has yet to be accomplished, but there’s not doubt it will happen. And the news turns the status quo upside down and inside out. Is it any wonder that Gabriel says, “Do not be afraid”?

In what ways is the Holy Spirit coming upon us and disrupting our lives with the good news of Jesus? We cannot and will not “go back to normal” after the pandemic, even as we get excited about vaccine reports. We have been through too much, seen too much, lost too much. Can we look forward to what we have gained, what we have learned, what we want to keep from this Covid-time? Have we been used by the Spirit during this time in ways that are both disruptive and delightful? These are questions worth asking now.

“What I want is to invite our people to take a moment to contemplate that God is at work in them and through them,” Lose continues. “Further, I want to help them imagine one concrete place they can make a difference — where God may be at work in them — between now and Christmas. And once they’ve had a chance to contemplate all this, I want to invite them into the joy of faithful response.” This perspective can take us again, for example, to thoughts about the “obedience of faith” that Paul mentions in the second reading.

It may take some time to answer such questions – perhaps more than an hour, or a day, or a week. Along with Mary, we may need to ponder what sort of greeting this might be for us. “Mary models the kind of reaction we should have to divinity’s disturbance in our lives,” Karoline Lewis writes. “She wonders and ponders. She questions and considers. She answers in awe. And Mary’s reply to God’s call understands that fear is characteristic of our response to God when God disrupts our lives.”

How true indeed. But we see that fear is not the final response from Mary. It is worth remembering the old English proverb here. “Fear knocked at the door. Faith answered. No one was there.” Let it be to us according to the Word.

If you use the Magnificat as the psalmody for the day (or choose to read the Annunciation and Magnificat as a whole piece), the disruption moves beyond Mary’s personal situation. Her obedience of faith has social and economic dimensions. Here is a prophecy of the coming Jubilee year. Remember that Jesus declares in chapter 4 of Luke’s gospel that he is bringing that Jubilee in his proclamation and ministry. Here all the inequities of established life are upended. And (with a preview of the first lesson) all this happens because God is faithful to God’s promises “to Abraham and his children forever.”

Liturgically, this is an opportunity to sing the Annunciation and Magnificat using the setting from Holden Evening Prayer. I never miss an opportunity to do that. More to the point, what happens to Mary will happen to all of us, to all the world, to all of Creation. Nothing is impossible for God. Thus, even in this time of restriction and retreat, we can and must look for the impossible possibilities the Holy Spirit is bringing about.

References and Resources

Frederick, John. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-romans-1625-27-5.

Hultgren, Arland. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-romans-1625-27-3

Levine, Amy-Jill, and Witherington III, Ben. The Gospel of Luke (New Cambridge Bible Commentary). Cambridge, UK.: Cambridge University Press, 2018.

Lewis, Karoline. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-luke-126-38.

Lewis, Karoline, https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/marys-response.

Lose, David. https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/favored-ones.

Malina, Bruce, and Rohrbaugh, Richard. Social Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels. Kindle Edition.

Metger, Bruce. A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament. New York: United Bible Societies, 1975.

Morley, Rick. http://www.rickmorley.com/archives/1218?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=gutsy-faith-greater-than-the-angels-a-reflection-on-the-annunciation.

Powell, Mark Allan. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-luke-126-38-3. Sigmon, Casey Thornburgh. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-2-samuel-71-11-16-5