Arise, shine – look up from your fear and see God’s light shining in the world and in your life, and then shine that light so others might find hope and joy.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Epiphany of Our Lord
Texts: Matthew 2:1-12; Isaiah 60:1-6; Ephesians 3:1-12

Dear friends in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

They knew all they needed to know. But they didn’t do anything.

When Magi from the East came to Jerusalem looking for a newborn Jewish king whose birth notice they saw in the stars, the chief priests and scribes knew where to look. In answer to the Magi’s search parameters – child, Jewish king, important enough for astrological announcement – they knew chapter and verse, Micah 5:2, and quoted it to Herod: “From Bethlehem, one of the least of Judah, will come a ruler to shepherd God’s people.”

Maybe they had to do some research first, Matthew doesn’t say. But they had the right answer. They believed Scripture spoke of this birth, and they knew where it would be. They just didn’t know when. But now they knew that, too: these foreign astrologers arrived saying it had happened.

So why didn’t the scribes and chief priests join the Magi and head to Bethlehem? All the puzzle pieces were in place. Why didn’t the scholars of the nation Jesus was born into, the teachers of God’s chosen people, join these non-Jewish stargazers to see what God was doing?

Isaiah speaks of this coming as light shining in darkness. Like the star the Magi followed.

The Jerusalem scribes knew these verses we heard today, too. Isaiah says this coming of God will attract nations and kings, who would bring gifts of gold and frankincense. So foreigners arriving with these gifts to worship this child was itself a sign that this light of God, this child, had arrived.

And surely the scribes would’ve believed there was a need for light, would’ve understood the world to still be in some darkness. Under Rome’s thumb, the Jewish people weren’t free, weren’t thriving. The promise of hope to God’s exiled people that Isaiah 60 declares would have been deeply needed at this time, too.

They would have known this. And still, they did nothing.

Maybe the darkness of life, the darkness of the world, made it hard for them to want to look for God’s light.

Why get your hopes up? We can understand that.

We talk often these days about the state of the world, the chaos, the wickedness, the oppression of huge numbers of God’s children, the destruction of our climate. Even though most generations have also seen such things, that doesn’t mean that words of hope and light don’t resonate with us, too, or that we don’t long for such grace from God. But maybe we also don’t think it will come in any significant way.

And it’s not just the darkness of the world or the society. Each of us faces challenges, struggles, where we feel we’re walking in the dark. Diseases, job problems, broken relationships, setbacks we face, all can overwhelm. We wonder about our purpose, whether there’s a point to all this. We fear death, ours or others’. Knowing God has light to shine into our darkness would be wonderful. If we’d let ourselves hope.

Well, today Isaiah says you can hope. “Arise,” he calls out to a people in fear and pain.

Darkness covers the earth, he says, covers the peoples. But God is rising up, and God’s light is shining on you.

At the heart of our Christmas celebration is this hope: God has joined us in our darkness, in our fear, in our exile, and is bringing light in Jesus. The light of hope that we are in God’s love always and cannot be removed. The light of promise that all we’ve done to contribute to the darkness of our lives and the darkness of the world is forgiven. The light of wisdom that there is a path of light to walk in the darkness that will be abundant and full for us and the creation.

Now, as we know, this is a long dawning. The light spreads one person to another, and it can seem like the sun will never rise. We need the Spirit’s gift of patience.

But today more than that we need Isaiah’s trumpet call: Get up and go look! Join others who are looking, and find the light together. You don’t have to sit in Jerusalem, knowing God’s light has come, and shut your doors and pull down your shades. You don’t have to be so tied up in your guilt, your fear, your anxiety, that you don’t even look for where there is light from God. You don’t have to be so overwhelmed by the complexity of the problems of the world that you don’t even expect any enlightenment from God. Arise! See what God is doing.

And Isaiah also calls out: “Shine.”

You are now part of the light you’ve arisen to find. Once you go see where God is shining, you become a reflector of God’s light, shining on others.

This was one of God’s greatest hopes for Israel, that they would take their chosenness, the love of the one, true God they knew, and invite all nations into it.

The Magi shone. They arose – they got up and followed – and they shone. They witnessed that God had raised up a new ruler who will be faithful to God. They shone their hope and faith to all in Jerusalem as they followed the light.

So shine, too, as you look for the light, as you band together with these others who’ve been looking. Let your light so shine before others, Jesus said, so that they may see the good you do and glorify God for it. You become the star.

Today Paul tells the Ephesians that’s his main calling.

It’s why he’s in jail, why he goes out and preaches when he’s not in jail. He has seen God’s light in Christ Jesus and has to shine that light for others.

“I have become a minister of this Good News,” he says, through God’s grace that works in me, “to make everyone see what is in the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God who created all things.”

What if you saw this as your calling? That as someone who’s seen the light of God’s Good News in this place – in the grace you’ve eaten and drunk at Christ’s table, in the forgiveness and love you’ve met and believed here, in the hope of God’s healing of all things that you’ve seen here – and as someone who’s seen the same light of God’s Good News in the world – in the eyes and love and compassion of countless people shining in the world’s darkness, and in the embrace and touch of countless others who have been with you in your dark places – what if you, having arisen and seen such things, also heard your call to shine, to let others see this plan that has been hidden in God’s mystery but now is revealed to the world?

I like to think that a couple scribes snuck out the side door of Herod’s palace and caught up with the Magi, wanting to see God’s light for themselves.

I hope some did.

But you needn’t sneak or hide. You’ve seen God’s light shining – even if it’s still deep mystery how it will shine on all, how all things will be healed in God’s coming – you have seen God’s light because you have come here, you have arisen to join with others following the star, seeking the light.

Now, as Paul promises, God’s gift of grace will give you the ability to shine in this world, in your life, amongst others. To be a star for others to follow, a light to give hope.

To be a minister of this Good News, until everyone comes to Bethlehem to see and to be filled with joy in God’s healing light.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

In Baptism you are clothed with the clothing of Christ, and when you put that on, you become Christ – compassionate, kind, gentle, forgiving – and part of Christ’s healing of the world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The First Sunday of Christmas, year C
Texts: Colossians 3:12-17,1 Samuel 2:18-20, 26, Luke 2:41-52

Dear friends in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

The Vikings came to Minnesota a year before I was born.

Since before I was five, I remember watching them every week, wanting to be them. At six I had one of those uniforms Sears sold – flimsy helmet, thin pants, printed-on purple shirt (number 25) –I loved it.

In my adulthood it became possible to purchase authentic jerseys of NFL teams, with the same fabric, stitched-on letters and names, the same embroidered patches they wore on the field. They’re common now, but then it was new. When I was young, I loved Fred Cox, the Vikings kicker. Number 14. I’d go out to the front yard and kick field goals. I’d hold my hand up like he did, and run straight up and kick. I was not good. But I still imagined it was me as a Viking. So when I bought a jersey as an adult, I wanted number 14.

It’s great. Well-made, nicely stitched, and it’s actually what they were wearing twenty years ago, or whenever I bought it. But I didn’t get it with Fred’s name on the back. The fantasy was “what if I were good enough to play for the Vikings.” I needed my name on the back.

When I wear this, it looks good. But as an adult, I’ve realized something my imagination as a child did not. Wearing this jersey, I’m still slow, not terribly well coordinated, and pretty small. Number 14 is now worn by Stefon Diggs, a blindingly fast receiver. I’m built a little more like Fred Cox, but there’s no hope of me being like Stefon.

In the end, it’s just a fun shirt. It doesn’t make me good enough to play for the Vikings.

Now, sometimes if you dress the part, you actually become what you’re dressing into, and sometimes not.

Take this chasuble. It’s what the presider wears at Eucharist. Wearing it shows my role in the liturgy. But it’s not what makes me pastor of Mount Olive. Your call to me, my ordination and training, that’s what makes me the presider at Eucharist, not this pretty garment.

But the one underneath is a different story. Underneath I wear an alb, just like everyone up here. And the alb stands as a sign of our baptism into Christ. Covered in a clean garment, we remember we are washed in God’s waters and made new people. All of you could wear albs to church to remember your baptism; normally just worship leaders do.

The alb itself doesn’t change you. Wearing an alb doesn’t make you any more Christlike than wearing jeans does. But what it stands for changes everything.

Today Paul says, since you are God’s beloved, God’s chosen, put on Christ-clothes and become what you look like.

Earlier he told the Colossians they’ve put to death the old ways, and are raised into new life in Christ. So, Paul says, live that way.

Clothe yourselves with Christ, he says. Every virtue Paul names here has already been attributed to Christ Jesus in other writings of Paul. Now they are commanded to us, as baptismal clothing. Paul beautifully believes that, unlike my jersey or other clothes, covering yourself with these clothes will not just make you look like these things. It will change you into them.

So, put on these clothes, Paul says:

Clothe yourself with compassion – literally “the bowels of mercy, guts of mercy,” that same phrase we heard in Advent. Cover yourself with the same gut-level mercy Christ has for the world. You will become mercifully compassionate, like Christ.

Clothe yourself with kindness, or goodness. Make your outward appearance always generous kindness toward all, and you will become kind, like Christ.

Clothe yourself with humility. This is the same word Paul uses in Philippians 2 to describe Jesus putting off divinity and making himself us. Cover yourself with that vulnerable self-loss for others. Copy Christ and you will become truly humble, like Christ.

Clothe yourself with meekness, which is better translated “gentleness.” When you cover all your actions with gentleness, you become Christ’s grace.

Clothe yourself with patience, literally “long-suffering.” Just as God is patiently working within the creation to bring about salvation, so you can cover yourself with this same long-suffering hope. Acting patiently will eventually make you patient, like Christ.

And, just as Jesus commanded: if you’ve been wronged, or hurt, forgive, Paul says. Acting forgiving will change your heart and make you a forgiving person, like Christ.

Finally, Paul adds an overgarment, like a coat: “on top of all these, put on love.”

The love of Christ that has claimed you, forgiven you, been merciful and kind and gentle and good and patient with you, the love that gave itself up to death to bring life to the whole universe, let that love cover everything you are and do.

The color of your clothing is love. The shape of your clothing is love. The fabric of your clothing is love. All those other things Paul commands you to put on, all are covered in this self-giving, sacrificial, vulnerable, life-giving love that Christ has for you and the world. And when you put it on, you become love.

Then, after getting dressed, Paul says, put two things inside your heart: the peace of Christ and the Word of Christ.

Let your hearts be ruled, driven, by Christ’s peace. And let Christ’s Word dwell in you richly. Just as the Word of God has come to live in human flesh, let God’s Word enter your heart and live there, changing you, shaping you.

It is this Word, given by the Spirit, that will make you look like all the clothes of Christ you put on. It is this Word, given by the Spirit, that will give you the ability to be Christ in all these ways.

This is why Jesus came to us as a human being, God’s Eternal Word as one of us: to fully make us into the very image of God, to shape us into Christ ourselves.

Both Samuel and Jesus, young boys we see in the Temple today, grew up into the kind of servants of God they were.

We heard today that they grew in stature and wisdom, and in favor with God and the people. But they began as children, really precocious children, according to these two stories, but children. And the Spirit filled them and they grew into a great prophet and into the Savior of the world.

That’s your path. You are beloved to God, chosen by God, and in your baptism you have been clothed, covered in Christ.

Put on those clothes, and grow up to what you are meant to be. Let the Spirit shape you into being exactly like they are, exactly as Christ is. No clothes can make me a professional football player. Wearing jeans or a fancy robe doesn’t affect who you are, either. But put on these clothes of Christ, and you will become Christ, part of God’s great Christmas gift to the whole world.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

 

God is still creating us in God’s own image, through coming among us in the flesh, as God’s Son: and we will be God’s face in the world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Nativity of Our Lord
Text: John 1:1-14 (plus 18) (also with references to Genesis 1:26)

Dear friends in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

In the beginning, God said: “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness.”

In the beginning God spoke into chaos, God’s Word called light into being, God’s Spirit breathed into a new creation. And into that new creation, inexplicably, God spoke a new reality: a species created in the very image of God, according to God’s likeness.

This morning John declares that that Word of God at the beginning is also the One we know as Jesus, a human like us. All things were created by this Word who spoke over the waters, through the Spirit’s breath, and in the heart of God the Creator.

But this is still the deep mystery: somehow, inexplicably, we are created in the image of this God, we are made in God’s likeness.

An objective witness would say that either can’t be true, or God must be horrible, if humanity bears God’s image.

Humanity has done more damage to God’s good creation than any other creature God made. We alone have tried to be gods ourselves, we alone have made war and instruments of war on a massive scale.

Only our violence threatens not only our own species but the diverse and beautiful breadth of the creation itself. As far as we can tell, no other creature of God hates.

We took the command to have dominion of the creation, given to us as the image of God, as permission to plunder the abundance of the creation for our own use, disregarding damage to others of God’s creation and to creation itself, let alone our own species.

Many today say if humanity is created in the image of God that’s as good a reason as any to reject God. If God is like humanity – prone to evil, to capriciousness, power-mad, leaning toward depravity – that’s not a God worthy of praise or adoration. And if God is not like us, then how are we made in God’s image?

But here’s another deep mystery: God keeps calling the creation good.

In Genesis 1, that’s the repeated refrain: this is good. Light is good, water is good, creatures are good. People are good. Now John says, God still declares this creation, even humanity, good. God deigns to take on human flesh and become one of us. God said we are good, and God still means it. God thinks we are worthy of bearing God’s life, not just God’s likeness.

The usual narrative around Christmas is that the world’s a mess, and God came to save it. There is truth behind that.

But the deeper truth is that God has always been working in the Spirit to continue to make this creation into the good that God has always seen in it from the beginning.

The deeper truth is that God has come in the flesh to live with us so that we might, from inside out, grow ever more fully into the image of the Triune God who loves the whole creation beyond any reason or sense.

This is the only way that salvation is truly salvation, a healing of humanity and of all things.

There’s no way to avoid the truth that humanity is a huge mess, and has made a greater mess of the creation. God may see good in us, but objectively we are a long way from God’s image.

We see this clearly when Jesus comes to us: “The Word was in the world,” John says, “and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him.” That’s how far humanity drifted from God’s own image, we were unable to recognize God with us. The One who was also God looked and acted so differently we didn’t know him.

But this is Christmas: the Creator enters the creation to perfect this, to complete this image from within.

We’ve seen the very heart of God in Jesus, the image of God, the truth of God: God is abiding love, gracious relationship, transformative mercy, healing grace. Jesus comes to complete this image in us.

Filled with God’s undying love that abides in our hearts, we become such love in our lives and the world sees God’s truth. Joined into the life of God in loving relationship, we open our arms to draw more of the creation into the same abundant life. Overwhelmed by God’s mercy in the face of our sinfulness, we are transformed into people of mercy, and we show the world the heart of God. The grace that Jesus reveals in facing the cross, dying, and rising from the dead for a world that rejected him, heals us, and all who find such grace. And we become signs of God’s grace in the world.

John’s Gospel reveals Jesus as the face of the Triune God for us.

But Jesus, God-with-us, from the very heart of God, is shaping you into the image of God, so now you become God’s face in the world. God’s voice. God’s hands. God’s heart. Most of all, God’s heart.

The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth. Now this Word means to make you into that same glory.

Deep mystery, indeed. But hope for the healing of all things.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

God’s sign of the healing of the universe is a baby: and when we understand that, we begin to learn patience, and so to find hope for all things.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The eve of the Nativity of Our Lord
Text: Luke 2:1-20; also using: James 5:7a; Romans 8:24a, 25

Dear friends in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

“Be patient, beloved, until the coming of the Lord,” James urges. (James 5:7a)

But who wants to be patient for this coming anymore? How much longer will this world struggle with injustice and oppression? How much more will God allow before doing something?

“Be patient,” say all those in power, all who are privileged, all who oppress, “things can’t change all at once.” But in those voices, “be patient” is just a way to stop reform, to shut down voices who cry out for justice, to hinder progress.

Tonight we celebrate that the Triune God of all time and space, the creator and lover of all things, has become human, has joined our life here, and is bringing peace, and healing, and restoration. God’s mercy is among us and God’s promises are being fulfilled. But it’s hard to see many signs of “peace on earth, good will to all” in our world. What are we to do? Be patient?

Paul says to his church in Rome: “For in hope we were saved. . . . But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” (Romans 8:24a, 25) “All earth is hopeful,” we sing, but all earth doesn’t always see that God is doing anything. Paul’s wisdom is that patience is born from such hope in the unseen. Paul says patience, one of the Spirit’s fruits, is a good thing.

Can “be patient” be words of hope for us as well?

We may not have an option to patience, given how we know God works.

Any talk of God “doing something” falls apart when we actually ask just how that would happen. Do we want God as superhero, powerfully flying in to stop whatever evil or oppression or wickedness needs stopping? We’ve never seen God do that before.

Do we want God as ruler, somehow affecting political systems, maybe even changing elections? It’s doubtful any of us believe God manipulates in that way.

And what of miracles? We pray for them, especially for healing, and sometimes God does them. Many times God doesn’t. And what miraculous fix could God do to make our society and world more at peace? Destroy all weapons from above?

The problem with our impatience is that if we want God to restore things immediately, the only options are forcibly changing this world in some way. And that’s not how we’ve known God to work, it’s not how the Scriptures say God works. Virtually no religion in the world believes that.

But let’s come back to tonight. Shepherds on a Judean hillside were told “good news of great joy”: God had come to save, to bring peace to all. But this was the sign they were given: Go look for a baby. Not a superhero or a politician or a miracle-worker. “Peace to all” starts with a baby.

This baby wasn’t part of the earliest hope of the Church.

The earliest Christian writing and records of early Christian worship focus on Easter, Christ’s humiliation and degradation and death on a cross, and rising from the dead in glory. The proclamation of God’s breaking of death’s power and making a new reality in Christ for the whole universe was central.

But at some point, believers also began to ponder where Jesus of Nazareth came from. He didn’t appear suddenly as a 30-year-old on the banks of the Jordan. And this wonder emerged: this crucified and risen Jesus, this Word of God, this eternal Christ, began his ministry on this earth not as teacher, healer, or even Savior. He began as a baby.

Of course, that’s obvious. He had to have been born. But by the time of Luke’s writing this is called Good News: the sign of God’s peace on earth, the sign of the beginning of God’s salvation and healing for all things, the only thing the shepherds were told to look for, is a baby in a manger.

And that sign can only be known and grasped with patience.

Once a baby begins inside her mother, there are nearly nine months of speculation and wonder and waiting for the arrival. There’s no rushing this. Then when the baby arrives, for weeks and weeks little happens, just small indicators of change. Then there are growing teeth; making sounds, then words; crawling, then walking. The independent mind appears, then the teen years, and the pre-frontal cortex development, and finally a grown human being. Watching and waiting for what a person will become from conception onward requires the deepest of patience.

Because a baby is all about potential. Certainly growing into something that’s new every day. But initially, and for many years, a baby is promised hope, potential energy.

This is your sign of God’s salvation, the angel sang. Look for a baby. Begun, but not yet fully realized, life.

This sign says God’s salvation of this universe is an inside job, not a rescue mission.

The groundwork of God’s coming was patiently laid for centuries before Bethlehem. And when God’s Son finally came, after nine months of gestation, there were thirty years of growing, before ever a word of proclamation was uttered. The Triune God was willing to wait a long time.

That’s patience. And then even after the resurrection and Pentecost, it became obvious this was a slow play by God. Twenty years after Pentecost, thirty, forty, Rome still ruled, people did evil, disease plagued, poverty was rampant. Maybe some of the mentions of the second coming of Christ in the New Testament came from people losing patience with the speed of God’s healing salvation. Come a second time, God, but this time as a fully grown Savior who will rule in power and do something.

But God’s sign says, look at the baby and ponder what that means. In God’s patient willingness to arrive as an infant child, we see the whole of God’s plan. All things will be healed from within the creation, one person at a time. The least important part of what Jesus did in his whole ministry was the miracles. Superpowers and miraculous force aren’t part of God’s plan. Teaching and modeling God’s love, calling people one at a time, revealing the depth and strength of God’s love at the cross, rising to bring new life, sending the Holy Spirit to keep this love spreading, that’s the plan.

God’s desire to love the creation back into the Triune life of God can only happen in this glacial, maddeningly slow way. When your heart is transformed and you start beaming out God’s radiant light, a little more each hour, each day. When that light of God’s love spreads from you and lights another, little by little, day by day. It may not look like much at first. And maybe not for a long time. But eventually love’s light will dawn over the whole creation.

You can learn a lot about patience waiting on a baby.

But remember this: in that patience, that long-suffering waiting, that watching for signs of growth and maturing and doing, there is great hope.

Because peace on earth goodwill to all is on the move. God’s healing has begun. We’ve seen signs of it growing and spreading for 2,000 years. Now it is within you, flickering around the outside of your heart, moving its way into your core. As long as it will take God to change you, that’s just a glimpse of how long it will take God to change the world.

But look at the baby. That’s your sign. Ponder, let the Spirit grow patience in you, and be of good cheer. Because there is hope, and this sign is good news of great joy for all the people. Not least of which for you yourself.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

In this multilayered visitation between Mary, Elizabeth, their sons, and the Triune God, we find guides for our lives of waiting and hoping, and promise of how we, too, might delight in God’s promised mercy.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Fourth Sunday of Advent, year C
Text: Luke 1:39-45 (plus 46-47)

Dear friends in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

We don’t hear from the boys today, and that’s a blessing.

Advent is lots of listening to John and Jesus, familiar voices, voices that sometimes disagree with each other about what God’s coming will be like. From apocalyptic warnings to threats to calls to bear fruits of repentance, so far Advent has been ringing with the voices of these two men.

Not today. Today we have the gift of sitting with two pregnant women, basking in their kindness and grace to each other. The boys are here, but they’re voiceless and hidden, in utero; they have no lines in this scene. Elizabeth and Mary radiate hope and joy, and to be in their presence is a delight.

Elizabeth and Mary are also far better companions for our Advent waiting on God. Jesus and John don’t always feel approachable, the fiery Baptist and the Savior of the world. But it’s easy to imagine sitting in a kitchen with Mary and Elizabeth, listening to the voices of these women who in more ways than one carry inside themselves hope for God’s healing of all things.

This visitation of Mary to Elizabeth is richly layered.

Newly-pregnant Mary is visiting her relative, Elizabeth, fresh off meeting Gabriel. She goes far south to Judea to be with someone who can help her sort out what she’s feeling, what she’ll do. She’s clearly not there for pregnancy support or to hide her condition: Mary leaves after three months, just when she’s beginning to show, just as Elizabeth is ready to deliver. What Mary needs is wisdom, comfort, perspective.

Elizabeth, in turn, receives great joy from her delightful cousin. Her son leaps inside her at the arrival of Mary. Mothers know the movements of their babies, and Elizabeth knew this was different than the usual kicks. This baby leapt at the coming of God’s Messiah, and his mother was filled with joy. And now she has someone to share this joy, someone who understands what it is to face such unknowing, someone with whom she can spend three blessed months together.

This is our first sign that we want to be like Elizabeth and Mary. They need each other. They both face realities they weren’t prepared for, they both need to process what God is doing in them and with them. Together, they find support, and love, and wisdom, and joy as they wait and wonder. Together, so do we.

This is also a visitation of the Triune God amongst and within these two.

Elizabeth is the first person in Luke’s Gospel and its sequel about whom we are told, “she was filled with the Holy Spirit,” and she’s not the last. For Luke, the entrance of the Holy Spirit into humanity, just as the Spirit lived and breathed in Jesus, is the promise of God’s empowering of a new creation. Before Elizabeth, in Luke, Gabriel promises to Zechariah that before John was even born, he’d be filled with the Holy Spirit, and promises to Mary that her son’s conception would be by the Holy Spirit.

But Elizabeth is the first of many to come whose moment of being filled with the Holy Spirit is actually told. She also carries her Spirit-filled unborn son within her. And Mary carries the child begun by the Spirit. This little Judean house, on these seats by the hearth, glows with the light of God’s coming, the fire of the Spirit’s breath, as if it were the Day of Pentecost itself.

This is our second sign that Elizabeth and Mary are our guides. Beautiful, ordinary women, they are the first to reveal the joy and blessing of when the Holy Spirit of God comes into us. They show us what God’s Spirit looks like in us.

Here’s another layer to this visitation: together they see God better.

Both have questions about their own suitability. Mary asks Gabriel, “how can this be, that I would carry God’s Son?” Elizabeth says, “why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord has come?” Apart, they aren’t sure they’re worthy of this.

But together they witness to each other, confirm that God has come, that the other is honored. Elizabeth sees Mary, feels John leap, and declares Mary blessed among all women, the mother of God. How reassuring that must have been for Mary, full of questions, to hear!

And Mary’s coming also confirms Elizabeth’s place in God’s blessing. As her own child leapt, Elizabeth is filled with confidence that God indeed is working in her.

This is our third sign that we want to walk with Mary and Elizabeth: alone, we can’t always see God moving in us, we can’t often believe we’re worth something to God, or useful. But together, as the Spirit fills us, we witness to the presence of God we see in each other, we declare each other’s worth in God’s eyes, we leap for joy at the blessings we see God doing in each other.

Hear the voices of these women God has visited, and know God’s visitation yourself.

Elizabeth says: “Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

Listen to her, listen to Mary, their wisdom is for you, to help you believe. Watch, and do what they do: visit each other, love each other, find delight in what God is doing in each other. Elizabeth and Mary stand before you as signs of what God has done, and what God is doing. The world will be turned upside down, they sing[1], those who are hungry will be filled with good things, those who are poor will find all they need, those who are lowly will be lifted up and honored. Power will be turned on its head. God’s promise of mercy for this broken world will come to pass.

This is the song these women sing as witness. And they sing this song for you. So you also might share their delight and joy, their comfort and hope in God’s healing coming to all things. Blessed are you to believe that God will fulfill what God has promised to do in you, in the body of Christ, in the world.

In the name of Jesus. Amen

[1] Some ancient Latin versions of Luke give the Magnificat to Elizabeth instead of Mary. Perhaps they sang this grace together!