Rev. Debbie Cato
Fairfield Community Church
Luke 1:24-45
December 10, 2023 – 2nd Sunday of Advent
Holy God, We know that you are near. We know that you are standing at the door, you are running down the driveway, you are inviting us in— into your Word, into relationship, and deeper into joy. So as we approach your Word, O God, we pray: do not let us pass you by. Do not allow distraction or doubt to get the best of us. Do not let us walk down this road without you. Instead, give us the wisdom to turn and run your way. Give us the wisdom to hear your wisdom, to let it sink into our bones and change us. With hope and gratitude we pray, amen.
We Find Joy In Connection
Two
pregnant women. Elizabeth is old – well
past the childbearing years. She and
Zechariah always wanted children; they prayed for years for a family. But Elizabeth was barren and their dreams of
being parents never came true. And then,
in her old age, Elizabeth becomes pregnant.
Zechariah knows how and why but he has been struck unable to speak
because of his disbelief. Does Elizabeth
even know how and why this happened?
Does she know she is carrying the one who will prepare the way for the
Messiah?
Elizabeth spends the first 5 months of her pregnancy in seclusion. We don’t know why. Rev. Cecelia Armstrong speculates that perhaps Elizabeth’s reason for her isolation was due to the same reasons Zechariah was silenced. Elizabeth probably had questions. Can we speculate what those questions might have been?” she asks. “Does the Lord know how old I am?” “We have been wanting children for a long time and NOW we are pregnant?” “The shame of being barren has caused me to be weary, so how am I supposed to rejoice with this?” We don’t hear her questions, but we hear her resolve in verse 25: “This is what the Lord has done for me when he looked favorably on me and took away the disgrace I have endured among my people.”[1]
Being childless – being barren was a huge disgrace for Elizabeth. And it fell on the woman. The wife. The disgrace was unbelievable and Elizabeth had lived with it her whole life. Besides the disappointment of not having children, the disgrace of her barrenness would have filled Elizabeth with a heavy weariness.
The second woman is young. It’s thought that Mary was probably 14-years-old. Mary is not yet married but she is engaged to be married. She is still a virgin. And now she is pregnant – carrying the Son of God! How could this be? And yet, Mary tells the angel Gabriel, “Let it be to me, according to your word.” Let it be to me, according to your word.
Mary sounds like she is at peace with this idea that not only is she pregnant as a virgin, but she is pregnant with the Son of God. Yet I venture to say she must have been weighed down with questions. Weighed down with concerns about logistics. Weighed down wondering about her future. Being told that her elderly relative Elizabeth, barren her whole life, is five months pregnant, Mary immediately sets off to travel to visit her.
According to tradition, Elizabeth and Zechariah lived in Ein Karem in the Judean hill country, which was about five miles west of Jerusalem and 80 miles from Nazareth. What compelled Mary to go to Elizabeth? What kept her going those 80 miles by herself? Think about the many hardships of this journey by foot would hold, especially for a young girl who was pregnant.
We don’t know anything about Mary’s travels. We can only speculate. What we do know is that Mary sets out with haste to enter the house of Zechariah and greet Elizabeth. Creative thinking suggests that Mary did all of this on her own, in isolation, by herself, with no one to help, hurt, or hinder her mission. She must have suspected that Elizabeth would understand her questions. Elizabeth would understand her weariness.
We don’t hear Mary’s internal dialogue during her travels. That internal voice that speaks to us. We can imagine her asking herself over and over, “Does the Lord know how young I am?” “I haven’t even been married yet and NOW I am pregnant?” Perhaps she thought, “The shame of being with child without being married first has caused me to feel weary; to feel weighted down. How am I supposed to rejoice with this?” We don’t hear her questions, but we witness her resolve by seeing her travel so far, by herself, to be with her relative.[2]
I dare say that both these women are weary. I suspect Elizabeth had been weary for years. Depressed because she was barren. Disgraced because she was childless. Perhaps embarrassed because now she was pregnant at such an old age. Maybe the pregnancy was difficult, and she was sick. Confused because her husband was unable to speak. Mary must have been worried about what Joseph would do, finding her pregnant before they were married. There was much shame attached to her pregnancy – out of wedlock we call it today. What would it mean to be the mother of the Son of God? Weary from traveling so far while pregnant. Perhaps she wasn’t sure how Elizabeth would greet her. Yes, both women were weary.
Before he took off, Gabriel made sure to tell Mary that her kinswoman Elizabeth was also going to have a child. It seems to me that the angel was suggesting to Mary that she should look to her older and wiser cousin for counsel and support, and to see her as someone she could lean on and learn from and even celebrate with. And of course, when Mary showed up at Elizabeth’s door, the baby in Elizabeth’s womb, little John the Baptist, sensed the presence of Jesus in Mary’s womb and literally kicked off the celebration by leaping for joy. Elizabeth’s weariness changed to joy when she made the connection with Mary.
Mary stays for three months –until Elizabeth is about to deliver the one who will prepare the way for Mary’s own baby, the Son of God. Rev. Armstrong says, “These two pregnant women share their experiences with one another. They chat and hang out together. Two pregnant women, who are related but surely different from one another. One is young and one is old. One is married and one is not yet married. One is carrying the Word of God and one is carrying the one who prepares the way. They were both separate when they got news of God’s plans for their lives. (Do we know how Elizabeth got the news that her pregnancy was special since Zechariah was unable to speak?) It is when they are connected that they experience shared joy. It is when they come out of their isolation that joy becomes the connection. If comfort is a necessity in this weary world, then rejoicing should be done in the company of others. Mary and Elizabeth have shown us joy in joining and comfort in connecting.”[3]
Ross Gay, in his book of essays called “Inciting Joy” says, “Too often we think of joy as meaning “without pain” or “without sorrow.” But what if joy is not only entangled with pain or suffering or sorrow, but is also what emerges from how we care for each other through those things? What if joy, instead of refuge or relief from heartbreak, is what effloresces from us as we help each other carry our heartbreaks? Another words, what if joy needs sorrow?”[4]
Francis Ward Weller, author and grief specialist says that “the work of the mature person is to carry grief in one hand and gratitude in the other and to be stretched large by them.” She says, “How much sorrow can I hold? That’s how much gratitude I can give. If I carry only grief, I’ll bend toward cynicism and despair. If I have only gratitude, I’ll become saccharine and won’t develop much compassion for other people’s suffering. Grief keeps the heart fluid and soft, which helps make compassion possible.”
You see, I think that when we are alone; when we are isolated, our weariness grows. It’s easier to stay focused on the heaviness of life; the things we wish were different, the things that are hard; the tiredness of it all when we are by ourselves. But there is something about connecting with others; something about sharing space with people that expands our outlook; opens our mind and allows us to feel joy. Joy brought to us just from connecting with another human being. Joy from just being alive. Joy that we can’t always feel by ourselves.
It’s not that our problems go away. It’s not that the weight of the world disappears. That isn’t reasonable. Everyone is carrying a burden. Everyone has problems. We are all weary. But that does not preclude joy. We can experience joy in the midst of grief, in the midst of anxiousness and worry; in the midst of anything. Joy is like that. It pops up and surprises us. Joy comes through the unexpected; the ordinary; and other people. It comes when we connect with people. It comes when we open ourselves to others. Joy is about connection beyond ourselves. It comes when, like Elizabeth, we fling the door open and find someone we don’t expect on the other side. It comes when we welcome someone into our lives and into our hearts. Joy is rooted in love and hope and faith. Three things that we find from other people and from our relationships with God. Love, hope, and faith – sometimes lost when we are weary. Someone else can help us find them. Joy can become a way of life – even in a world that is filled with disappointment and darkness and weariness. Joy can overtake the dark. It can creep in and be an act of resistance against the despair.
So who is your Elizabeth? Who will fling open the door for you and delights when they see you? Who is your Mary? Who will show up when you are isolated and alone? Who connects with you and shares in your weariness? It makes such a difference to hold hard questions; to hold things that make us weary together—like Mary, like Elizabeth. It is so valuable to give ourselves to those who can help us navigate these times: those who bear witness when our lives travel far beyond anything we can understand; those who help us recognize and celebrate clarity when it comes; those who help us live into the mysteries that unfold over time; those who know that our hearts are made whole not so much by certainties but by the love that carries us and connects us through it all.
Are you an Elizabeth or a Mary? Are you willing to show up and sit with someone who is weary? Are you someone who shows up and makes a connection with someone who needs to know that joy can exist alongside weariness? We all need connection. God created us to be in relationship with one another. We can find joy in being together.
I want to close with a poem by Rev. Sarah Speed who is one of the founders of Sanctified Art.
Lessons
in Connection
Prayer by Rev. Sarah Speed
| A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org
It’s been
a long day,
long
enough to complain,
long
enough to wine and dine my
disappointment,
to give
weariness
keys to
the house.
But then
you get the giggles
dancing
with the dog in the kitchen.
Paws-sliding,
tail-wagging,
side-cramping
giggles.
I can
hear it from across the house.
Your joy
burrows its way
through
the cracks in my armor
and then
we are both laughing,
gulping
for joyous, electric air.
And
that’s when I know—
if you
grab my hand,
if you
ask me to dance,
if our
weary human souls can
make room
for connection,
then we
will survive.
Joy will
take root.
Love will
keep
her keys to the house. Amen.
[1] Sanctified Art.
Second Sunday of Advent.
Commentary | Luke 1:24-45 & Isaiah 40:1-11 by Rev. Cecelia D.
Armstrong.
[2] Sanctified Art.
Second Sunday of Advent.
Commentary | Luke 1:24-45 & Isaiah 40:1-11 by Rev. Cecelia D.
Armstrong
[3] Sanctified Art.
Second Sunday of Advent.
Commentary | Luke 1:24-45 & Isaiah 40:1-11 by Rev. Cecelia D.
Armstrong
[4] Inciting Joy.
Ross Gay. Algonquin Books of
Chapel Hill. 2022. P 4.
