12/18/60

Scripture: Read Luke 1: 68-79

What joy comes to the home that expects a baby! Those who may be anticipating parenthood for the first time regard the experience with wonder, and often with a new kind of delight. Much of their world becomes a song as they are lifted in happy expectancy. If the little one is to come to a home where there is an older child or children, the youngsters who are to become brothers or sisters of the expected one share in the eager anticipation. And when the wee one arrives, they can hardly wait for mother and baby to come home from the hospital so that they can see, and touch, their baby sister or brother.

The whole Christian world has a bit of this kind of anticipation at the annual advent season when men and women, adults and children, all look forward to the glad news of the birth of Jesus. We feel like singing. And we do sing! Christian folk have sung over the glad news from the earliest times of the Christian church. Our church hymnals abound with the hymns and carols of the coming of the Christ at Jesus’ birth. Many of these songs were written by people of comparative recent decades or centuries.

But the earliest Christians had their songs, too. The gospel of Mark informs us that when the first apostles “had sung a hymn” at the close of the first “Lord’s Supper,” they went out unto the Mount of Olives. Paul remarks to the Corinthians: “When you come together, each one has a hymn.” [I Corinthians 14: 26]. And to the Colossians, Paul writes: “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, as you teach and admonish one another in all wisdom and as you sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs with thankfulness in your hearts to God.” [Colossians 3: 16]. To the Christians at Ephesus, he speaks of “addressing one another in psalms, and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with all your heart.” [Ephesians 5: 19].

The Christians sang their praises, their dreams and their hopes, from earliest times. But their Jewish forebears also sang. Their Psalter was largely a collection of hymns. It is little wonder, then, that there appeared, very early among Christians, a song attributed to Mary, the Mother of Jesus, but sung by Christians of the early church. It is called by a Latin name: “The Magnificat.”

When you read the opening chapter of Luke’s gospel, you find there the story of Mary, and the annunciation to her that she was to bear a son. After this wondrous and joyful news was imparted to her, and she realized that the child she was to bear was to be a most extraordinary person, she decided to go and visit her cousin, Elizabeth.

Now Elizabeth was the wife of Zechariah, who was a priest of the temple. Zechariah and Elizabeth had wanted a child or children, but none had come until they were old enough so that it had not been supposed they could be parents. When Zechariah heard the news that he was to be a father, he could hardly believe it. And the Scripture tells us that because of his difficulty in believing it to be the truth, he lost his speech for months -- in fact until after his child was born.

Well, when Mary came to visit her cousin, Elizabeth was about six months along, and was, of course, joyful over the prospect of her son’s birth only a few months away. It was to turn out that the son of Elizabeth would grow up to be John the Baptist, the one who would cry out in the wilderness the coming of Jesus, his kinsman, and the Savior of his people.

When Mary arrived at the home of Elizabeth, there was an exchange of joyful greetings by these two women, both of whom expected a baby. And then Mary is credited with singing this song called “the Magnificat.” If you care to follow it with your eyes as well as your ears, you may find it at Number 126 in the Unison Readings at the back of our hymnal. And Mary said:

“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has regarded the low estate of his handmaiden. For behold, henceforth all generations will call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things, and holy is his name. And his mercy is on those who fear him from generation to generation.

He has shown strength with his arm, he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts, he has put down the mighty from their thrones, and exalted those of low degree; he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent empty away.

He has helped his servant, Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, as he spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and his posterity for ever.”

Now I do not know whether or not, as a matter of history, Mary sang those exact words to her kinswoman, Elizabeth. The song appears just that way in Luke’s gospel, and many suppose that this is precisely what she said to Elizabeth when they met. Other students of the Bible have supposed that this is a song which the very early Christians used as a hymn; that they attributed it to Mary; and that is why Luke puts it in his gospel at the place where it appears. At any rate, it has this ring of authenticity, in that it voices a true part of the gospel of Christ. It is also true to the religion of the Hebrews. It seems to echo the Song of Hannah in I Samuel:

My heart rejoices in the Lord

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The bows of the mighty men are broken,

And they that stumbled are girded with strength.

They that were full have hired out themselves for bread;

And they that were hungry ceased.” [I Samuel 2: 1, 4-5].

Look at this song, “the Magnificat” carefully. The earliest church saw it as an expression of the kind of salvation God wrought through Jesus. It was a revolutionary kind of salvation. There was dynamite within it! Many of the “great ones” of the world would not welcome it. It was certain to challenge the selfish powers of this earth, and to exalt those of low degree -- to lift them up.

When it is true to itself, our Christian gospel has this explosive power from which some will shrink in fear. In the period between World War I and World War II, Toyohiko Kagawa, who had been pouring out his life in service to the people in the slums of a great city of Japan, made a brief visit to the United States. A sensitive woman heard him speak, and then wrote an inquiry to her own minister. “Kagawa,” she wrote, “said that ‘what we need is fire.’ What is this fire?” She went on to give her own answer: “Fire is the leaven of discontent that somebody puts in to make life better than it was the day before. You must foster within the church your own revolutionists, not for doings primarily, but for doing this: to make the leaven of discontent which is light or fire. Once it is kindled, nothing else matters, no organization, nothing; and unless it is kindled, nothing matters.”

Well, there is no point in stirring up revolution for revolution’s sake. But there is so much in the world that needs changing! A writer who has toured South America returns with the conviction that time is so short there, and it is running out fast! Hosts of people are unwilling to be slaves to poverty and ignorance and oppression and unequal opportunity. If we people who have, are not willing and able and acting, to help them to better opportunities for learning and living, there will be revolution, for they will revolt. Cuba’s Castro, sinister as his policies have proven to be, at least serves to focus our attention on the rising tide of desperation and determination in South America. If people of good will can not help bring about a peaceful revolution of improvement for millions of poor folk, the revolution will come in evil and violent ways. This spirit of determined hope for better ways is seething all over the world. Is it not far better to be part of a good revolution, than victim of a bad one?

You see the Christian religion is not comfortable to those of us who are complacent and self-satisfied. Its insistent message is one of change for the better. It makes its adherents restive and rebellious over needless poverty, over drab wretchedness in tenements, over racial inequality, over insecurity of livelihood. Jesus, as a matter of truth, had a “passion of pity for the poor” and for the oppressed.

Part of Mary’s song reflects her great confidence in the God who brings people down from haughty pride and lifts up people of low degree who are willing to live in His strength, and by His help. This is the God who has done such great things for her, and in the fulfillment of whose gospel her child will live.

Mary’s song begins: “My soul magnifies the Lord.” What the soul magnifies makes a vast difference in human life. Here indeed is the secret of true success, and of tragic failure. To magnify material wealth, creature comforts and luxuries, social position, prestige and power, is to miss the way of life. When we seek first God’s kingdom of justice, brotherhood, peace, we are magnifying matters that really count.

I think that it is right to magnify joy at the Christmas time. The expectation of a Savior; the word of His birth; the remembrance of his power for right, the experience of His continuing influence in our lives, is a matter for great joy.

I am sure that it is right, also, at Christmas time, or at any other time, to count our blessings. None of us is unaware of the disasters, the appalling tragedies of life, the anxieties and the crying evils we deplore. But there is merit in an old Sunday School hymn of generations gone by that sang, “Count your blessings; name them one by one. Count your blessings; see what God has done.” “And it will surprise you what the Lord has done.”

I am not unmindful of the questions and irritations that give rise to Jess Norenberg’s editorial comment on his page in the last issue of “Church Life” where he writes under the caption, “I am Bothered.” Probably it is a good thing to reexamine some of the practices of the Christmas season that attempt to put on a good front in the face of a lot that is not particularly Christian about Christmas. But when the Rev. Dr. Norenberg says, about Christmas letters full of the year’s “sunshine, clear sailing and happy landings” --- “My faith will be restored, in part at least, when such a letter comes stating that Joe flunked his junior year in high school, Henry wrecked the family car and was given 30 days, and that little Susie is an undisciplined and thoroughly spoiled brat,” I beg leave to differ at that point!

If there are homes that have known such sorrow or humiliation, I fail to see the virtue of parading it in a Christmas letter! It hardly seems necessary to confess each other’s sins or enumerate all our sorrows, to all our correspondents! On the other hand, there is some point in magnifying what the Lord has done in joyful accomplishment, unforeseen blessings, worthy achievements, humorous incidents, helpful ideas and so on. “Count your blessings! It will surprise you,” (and maybe your friends too), “what the Lord has done.”

Remember Mary’s song: “He who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name.” Now this song of Mary, “The Magnificat” is but one of three complete hymns which Luke has incorporated in the first two chapters of his gospel. Read along a little farther in the first chapter and you come to the Song of Zechariah which is called “The Benedictus.” You can follow it at No. 127 in the Psalter of our Hymnal.

Remember that Zechariah was the husband of Elizabeth, the father of John who was to become “The Baptist.” Mary had visited Elizabeth about 3 months and then had gone home to Nazareth. And then Elizabeth’s baby was born. Zechariah had been unable to speak for months. It was on the 8th day after the baby’s birth that they would be naming the baby. It was taken for granted that he would be called Zechariah, after his father. But Elizabeth said, “No, he is to be called John.” The father signaled for writing materials and wrote: “His name is John.”

Then he was able to talk again. And immediately he sang this paean of praise that we call, “The Benedictus.” It goes like this, as we read it for the morning’s Scripture lesson:

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has visited and redeemed his people, and has raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant, David, as he spoke by the mouth of his holy prophets from of old, that we should be saved from our enemies, and from the hand of all who hate us; to perform the mercy promised to our fathers, and to remember his holy covenant, the oath which he swore to our father, Abraham, to grant us that we, being delivered from the hand of our enemies, might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all the days of our life.

And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people in the forgiveness of their sins, through the tender mercy of our God, when the day shall dawn upon us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness, and in the shadow of death; to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

This song of Zecharia, “The Benedictus,” opens with the joy of a larger patriotism. He thinks of the gift of his precious child as part of a larger, and greater, gift of God to his people. What God had given to him would be the channel of God’s mercy for a whole people. Every individual would have his share in it.

Zecharia looks a long way back over the promise, the strength, the favor, the mercy of God toward His people. Those people had been redeemed to a life of serving God without fear. Then he goes on the predict that the child will be a prophet of the Most High. The ideals he sets forth for the child are ideals that might apply to any life that is willing to hold them up like a re-lighted torch. The child is to grow into that kind of manhood that can “give light to them who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.” How pointedly these words out of the past speak to our 20th century needs! How many people have learned the literal meaning of darkness and the shadow of death in a century of world wars and spreading fear! Light for those in darkness, and a guide for feet set toward the paths of peace, to a mission high enough for anyone!

The third of these hymns recorded in Luke is the song of Simeon, a righteous and devoted man in Jerusalem who, though aged, felt that he was not to die before he had seen the Lord’s Christ. The gospel of Luke does not say anything about the flight of the Holy Family to Egypt, or about the cruel slaughter of the innocents in Bethlehem. Luke tells us that Jesus was circumcised, like any other boy among Jewish people, on the 8th day of his life, and that he was, in due time, taken to the temple to be presented in dedication. It was there that Simeon saw the child, became convinced that he was looking at the one who was to be Christ, and then sang this song, which we call, “Nunc Dimittis.” It is in No. 128 of our hymnal.

“Lord now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word;

For mine eyes have seen thy salvation which thou hast prepared in the presence of all people,

A light for revelation to the Gentiles,

And for glory to thy people Israel.”

Old Simeon was less concerned for his own satisfaction at having seen the Christ than he was satisfied that God’s promise for His people was to be fulfilled. Here, in the moment that the child rested in his arms, was the beginning of salvation! Significantly, this, as Simeon saw it, was not only for the glory of Israelite people, but was a light for revelation to the Gentiles! In other words, the babe was to become a Savior for people of the whole world!

These three songs then, the song of Mary, the song of Zechariah, and the song of Simeon, are three hymns of the early church that are still used in liturgical worship. They are part of the church’s disposition, always to “Make melody unto the Lord.” We add to them the great hymns that have evolved in the later history of the church, and particularly the nativity hymns and carols of the Advent season and Christmastide.

Nineteen and a half centuries after his birth, we can not forget that there once lived in this world a man named Jesus. Nor do we want to forget it! We want to remember him, and to sense his continuing presence with us and with all people of good will everywhere. And of this good news, we sing for joy!

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Delivered in Wisconsin Rapids, December 18, 1960.