Mt. Olive Lutheran Church
Sermon for Mary, the Mother of our Lord
By Rabbi Neil Comess-Daniels -
As I join you to celebrate this day, the Sunday dedicated to Mary, a question arises. In various texts I've perused, I see Mary referred to as Mary, the Mother of God, or Mary, the Mother of Jesus. The latter is more comfortable for me because Jesus' Divinity is not something to which I, as a Jew, adhere. However, you do, and I hope you receive well what I'm about to say. As a Jew, and your Rabbi-in-Residence, I have a responsibility to say it in a manner most appropriate for you to receive it. As it says in the Ethics of the Sages in the name of Hillel, the Elder: "Do not say something that cannot be understood [if,] in the end, [you wish it to be] understood." So, I wonder, which is suitable for you? Is it Mary the Mother of God or the Mother of Jesus? Let's explore.
The text in the center of today's lectionary is the beautiful "Song of Mary" from the Gospel of Luke. However, the Lutheran Church assigned other texts from the Jewish and Christian Testaments to support and enhance. Let’s reflect on those first because they surround Mary's words with an entourage of poetry.
We begin with the 61st chapter of Isaiah, where the prophet offers a nechemtah, words of comfort, for the people, suffering through the Babylonian Exile. As a mouthpiece for God, he says makes promises to them about their children and beyond:
Their offspring shall be known among the nations, Their descendants in the midst of the peoples. All who see them shall recognize that they are a stock the Eternal has blessed.
We should hold on to that notion of the people's recognition as the blessed of God. We'll need it later.
Psalm 34 comes along to offer the kind of mirror for Mary's soliloquy that only the psalmist, whom we assume is King David, can provide. This particular psalm captures David's emotions as he recalls his flight from King Saul, who (rightfully) perceived David as a threat. After feigning madness to avoid the possible rath of the Philistine King, Achish, David lavishes praise on God for guiding him to safety:
I turned to the Eternal, and God answered me, saving me from all my terrors… Here was a lowly man who called, and the Eternal listened and delivered him from all his troubles…Taste and see how good the Eternal is; happy the man who takes refuge in Him!
Once again, as we did with the idea from Isaiah that the people would be renowned for their blessings, we should also keep David's words about God's rescue and salvation close for later understanding.
In Galations, chapter 4, Paul the Apostle boldly asserts that through Jesus, God established the possibility for all people to be equal to Jesus as children of God!
Because you are his sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, "Abba, Father."
So you are no longer a slave, but God's child, and since you are his child, God has made you also an heir.
All these powerful words lead us to Mary's passionate proclamation of faith after becoming aware that she is pregnant. Her exultations are so much like other women in the Bible, especially those who experienced infertility.
Sarah, the wife of Abraham, the mother of the Abrahamic peoples, does not conceive until, according to the Bible, she is ninety years old! Miraculously she does indeed become pregnant. Earlier in the story, she laughs when she overhears angels telling Abraham that she will have a child at her advanced age. When her son is born, she says:
Sarah said, "God has brought me laughter; everyone who hears will laugh with me."
And she added, "Who would have said to Abraham that Sarah would suckle children! Yet I have borne a son in his old age."
I love that Sarah says Abraham is old, not her!
The story of Hannah's struggle to become pregnant is well known in Jewish tradition. We read her story annually on our holiest day of the year, Yom Kippur. When she bears a son, the Bible recounts:
Hannah conceived, and at the turn of the year, bore a son. She named him Samuel, meaning, "God listens."
And Hannah prayed: My heart exults in the LORD; I have triumphed through the LORD. I gloat over my enemies; I rejoice in Your deliverance…
For the LORD is an all-knowing God; By Him, actions are measured…
The bows of the mighty are broken, And the faltering are girded with strength.
He raises the poor from the dust, lifts up the needy from the dunghill, setting them with nobles, granting them seats of honor. For the pillars of the earth are the LORD's; He has set the world upon them.
This Sunday, Mary’s Sunday, the center of this wheel of women’s gratitude for God is Luke I, where Mary says about her as yet unborn child:
"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.
He has performed mighty deeds with his arm; 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.
He has helped his servant Israel, remembering to be merciful to Abraham and his descendants forever, just as he promised our ancestors."
Luke shares with us a wonderfully articulate Mary, a word artist, skilled in spontaneous prayer and praise of God. Knowingly or unwittingly, she channels the emotions and accolades of the Divine. At the end of her song, we just heard echoes of Isaiah's reassuring words to the people that God blesses them. Earlier, she sounds like King David speaking of God as her savior. Like Paul in Galations, Mary sees that all people, especially those in awe and wonder of the Divinity woven into everything, feel parental mercy from God. Like the appreciations expressed by biblical mothers before her, she sees the gift of motherhood in cosmic terms. For Mary, a child is a gift that can change society, ending poverty and hunger and balancing power and influence. Inspired by these latter images, the artist, Ben Wildflower, created a wood carving in which he depicts Mary as a revolutionary, her arm raised in a fist and standing on a snake she subdued. Others are similarly roused by Mary's words. Many are the preachers who preach on the spiritual revolution catalyzed in them by what this passage is known as the Magnifica. It's become a standard part of the liturgy in churches as well, like it is here at Mt. Olive.
I wouldn't go so far as to call Mary a revolutionary because I don't believe what she wished for her child was revolutionary. Mary's desire for Jesus was that he would come into a world that lived out the natural values in the Universe, the principles the world constantly whispers and sometimes screams at us to understand and make real. The artist and poet, Judy Chicago, put it this way in her piece, "Merger Poem,"
"And then all that has divided us will merge
And then compassion will be wedded to power
And then softness will come to a world that is harsh and unkind
And then both men and women will be gentle
And then both women and men will be strong
And then no person will be subject to another's will
And then all will be rich and free and varied
And then the greed of some will give way to the needs of many
And then all will share equally in the Earth's abundance
And then all will care for the sick and the weak and the old
And then all will nourish the young
And then all will cherish life's creatures
And then everywhere will be called Eden once again."
And as in the poem "World of the Womb" by Tikva Frymer-Kensky:
My eye cannot see you.
My will cannot control you.
But I feel your presence,
and I note your being
and I wish you all blessings,
and I love you.
Even in pregnancy, unaware of how her son would inspire and affect others, Mary saw the birth of her child as a divine gift. In that, she is akin to other mothers in the Bible who perceived the power of God reflected in their pregnancy and their children as blessings from God. I think that's pretty much true for all mothers. Whether or not others understood him to be divine, Jesus was her precious son. She would always engage with God through that experience. Mary was, indeed, Mary, Mother of Jesus. In that role, she was proud, immensely grateful, and acutely aware of how fragile raising a child in the world can be. Little did Mary know what was in store for her son. As a mother, she was "in it for the long haul," no matter what, as all mothers are, no matter how capricious the Universe. Before he was born, unaware of the triumphs and challenges to come by and for Jesus, Mary, the Mother of Jesus, felt her son as a divine blessing and gift, the ultimate expression of God in her life. Amen.
Rabbi Neil Comess-Daniels
Rabbi-in-Residence - Mt. Olive Lutheran Church
Santa Monica, California
Sermon for:
August 15, 2021
