The Ultimate Comfort - Luke 1:39-55

Bless you hearts, I know you’re settling in for yet another Hannah sermon about women’s bodies. You’d think they’d stop giving me Advent IV to preach on, but here we are again, and together we’ve just heard one the Gospel passages that is nearest and dearest to my heart. Many of you have heard my passion for the Visitation and the Magnificat from this very pulpit. You know that I have long identified with and found solace in Mary. She is a young, unwed woman tasked with doing something impossibly difficult for God, who somehow still manages to find such joy in the world that she bursts into song, a song passed down to her through generations of women of faith.

Now, in the past, I have also appreciated Elizabeth, but only as a side character in the story. She does provide a safe haven for Mary and she will soon give birth to John the Baptist, but these actions have always seemed to me in service of Mary’s story, which claims most of my attention. But this year, I’m noticing a bit of a transition in my experience of this story and in my life and ministry.

I’ve developed some gray hairs this year, if you haven’t noticed. If you have, thank you for not mentioning it. And fewer people than ever before have asked me when I’m going to go ahead and have children. In many ways this is a welcome change, because I’m ready for my body - and whether or not it’s doing what society expects it to do - to just get out of my way.

And yet, I hadn’t quite clocked the significance of my shifting experience until I read today’s Gospel passage for the first time this season, and Elizabeth spoke to me like never before. Don’t get me wrong, Mary is still my fierce and fabulous queen of all female bodily autonomy. But as it turns out, Elizabeth’s value, in this story and in our own, is so much more than just her gender or the baby she carries. Ironic, isn't it, that it took me multiple decades and just as many sermons to recognize that? Perhaps I’m what needs to get out of my way.

Unlike Mary, Elizabeth is established in her community as an old, married, barren woman. People had long since stopped asking Elizabeth when she was going to ahead and have children. Unlike me, she may have mourned that, we don’t know. And so although her pregnancy may not be as taboo as Mary’s, it is just as miraculous. Plus, as a first time mother herself, she’s likely just as ill-prepared. How lovely for these two women to finally have someone to talk with about their miracles and their fears.

And while Elizabeth could provide Mary with the wisdom of her age and the security of a stable home, surely Mary’s strength and steadfast faith were a gift to Elizabeth. What a beautiful vision of intergenerational female friendships, and how they can literally save the world. What an incredible invitation for all of us to live into the distinct image of both of these powerhouse women in our own lives. And what a perfect opportunity we have to explore the implications of their dynamic in the season of Advent - with a baptism to boot.

I saw a meme a couple of weeks ago that described Advent as a comfier, cozier Lent. I decided I firmly disagree with this summary. At the very least, it’s insufficient. For starters, many of the readings in Advent are not very comforting. In every lectionary year, we begin the season with the cosmic battle between good and evil. And there’s a lot of weeping and gnashing of teeth.

We also know that for many, the cultural holiday season, which overlaps with Advent, is when we feel our grief and pain most acutely, and so images of happy families sipping hot cocoa in front of a fireplace can be the very opposite of comforting. Even for those among us with the best of attitudes, the frenzy of December can be downright exhausting.

Christmas culture in our capitalistic society tells us to wrap those presents, trim those trees, get those fruitcakes in the oven, and get ready to offer comfy, cozy hospitality to guests. Advent is often co-opted as an extension of this message, with Jesus as one of the guests we’re preparing to welcome. There is some truth here. We do want to welcome Jesus into our hearts and our lives in a hospitable way. In fact, our Collect today hopes that Jesus might find in us a mansion prepared for himself.

But that’s not the whole truth. Just as Mary’s experience isn’t the whole truth of today’s Gospel story. In Advent, we are also preparing to welcome the ultimate hospitality that only God can offer. As worshipers of an incarnate God, we don’t just give comfort, or create our own, we receive it. And receiving comfort means admitting we need it. It requires a self-awareness and vulnerability that hosting Christmas dinner may not. It takes its own kind of preparation.

Elizabeth welcomed Mary with open arms and was all too ready to comfort her and let her know that everything would be okay. But then Mary spoke, and the baby in Elizabeth’s womb leapt, and Elizabeth's whole world was rocked - again. I imagine it was unsettling at first. But this brave young woman who is carrying the Christ child was able to comfort Elizabeth, too.

The incarnation of God, in all its many forms, is wonderful, and life-altering, but may not be immediately comfortable. Jesus will not return in power and great glory and say, “your home looks lovely, thank you for the cookies, well done good and faithful servant.” Instead, Jesus will come to us and say, “you are a flawed and broken human and I love you for it.” Are we ready to hear that? Have we truly prepared ourselves to receive that kind of unconditional love? What would our Advent season look like if that is the kind of encounter with Christ we’re preparing for?

This morning we will baptize baby Ronan into the Body of Christ. Throughout his life, his parents and all of us gathered here will offer him with plenty of comfort in the face of a big world, and I suspect, when we least expect it, he will offer us comfort too. We will provide a safe haven for him, and in return, he will reveal a whole new world of possibility and love and redemption. I can’t imagine a better way to mark the completion our Advent time together.

I’m delighted, this year, to include another beloved icon in our Advent IV devotions. Mary’s grit and unwavering trust in God are a perfect companion for Elizabeth’s humility and courage in the face of the earth-shattering, life-saving, hard to comprehend, ultimate comfort that God offers us the incarnation of Jesus Christ. In the final days of this Advent season, let us prepare our hearts for nothing less. Amen.