How to respond to the news that God has specially favored you, made you acceptable to Him, because God is who God is?  How to respond when you’re told, by the most reliable source, that God has big plans for you?  Students of the Bible often point out the similarities between Hannah’s song of praise, at the start of 1 Samuel, and Mary’s song, traditionally called The Magnificat, from the first word of her song in the Latin Bible, the Vulgate.  Maybe you hear, in magnif-icat the same stem as in magnify: to enlarge, to make large, to proclaim the largeness, the greatness of God . . . to glorify.  Yes, there are certainly similarities to Hannah’s song as well as to much else we read in the Bible, perhaps especially in the emotionally-charged songs of psalms.

Having offered herself to the Lord to be a bondservant of His plans, Mary then sings about her Yes to God’s you, sings about God who has made Himself known to her: “And Mary said: ‘My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior’” (1:46-47).  In good Hebrew poetic parallelism, the second clause builds upon the first.  Mary’s God-sensing, God-responding self has experienced the glory of God in a glorious way, been a witness to God’s good greatness, His great goodness.  She has been a participant in it.  She wants to proclaim the goodness and greatness of God.  To proclaim the goodness and greatness of God is to rejoice.

During Advent, we sometimes make frequent use of certain keywords: peace, love, joy—all gifts of God, gifts of the Spirit.  Of these—peace, love, joy—which takes precedence?  I suppose our answers will depend very much on what is going on in our lives.  What’s it like to cherish love and laugh with joy, when we don’t have peace?  Without joy, how do we know peace or cherish love?  And without love, as Paul tells us, what’s the good of anything else?  Mary magnifies and rejoices in God because God is radiant with peace, love, and joy—glory!—and Mary has all of these as she experiences God and His blessing, shining upon her, shining in her: new life.  We experience God most through faith: a gift of the Spirit, a miracle—a life-giving miracle.

Mary sings of God as her Savior.  God is not just another distant king, ruling coldly without concern, taking all and giving nothing.  God hears our call, our cry.  He comes to our help; He heals us, teaches us, shows us the way and accompanies us on the journey.  God saves us.  We needed saving.  It’s not until we realize this fundamental fact that we really begin to grasp what is happening.  We weren’t going to save ourselves: we didn’t want to, didn’t know we needed saving, until we did.  He doesn’t save us only from earthly adversaries and dangers.  He saves us from eternal danger in that He saves us from ourselves, the always lurking sin in us, fighting to get a chokehold on us.

Mary rejoices that God “has been mindful of the humble state of his servant” (1:48).  It may be that Mary mostly has in mind her social lowliness.  She hadn’t risen to prominence in any field or occupation: her name didn’t command respect, deference, or praise here below; she hadn’t received any anything of the year award.  Yet God has shown great concern for her and been pleased to bless her in a way no earthly power possibly could.  All the honors and awards of this world, some of which some of us have worked long and hard to obtain, blow away like dead, dry leaves in light of how God chooses to bless Mary.  Mary sings how wonderful this God is, who takes notice of, blesses, and so deeply cares about the nobodies from nowhere—people just like us.

No suggestion is made that Mary sought anything other than a humble state.  She was living the wisdom of the Bible, that teaches contentment and gratitude to God: peace, love, joy.  Simple faith, in the very best and brightest sense of that undervalued word.

Mary perceives that she has been lifted to another sphere, uniquely, blessedly, “for the Mighty One has done great things for me—holy is his name” (1:49).  She hadn’t asked for any high honor or special favor from the Lord; the thought had never entered her mind, though she may well have hoped and prayed that she might do some great thing for God.  Have you ever wanted to do some great thing for God?  Do you believe you’ve already done it, or no?  What great thing would you do for God?  What great thing might God be calling you to do?

Must it be big, to be great for the Lord?  Must it be advertised, made known near and far, to be great for the Lord?  What if a humble life, a simple and contented life before the Lord, is the greatest thing any of us can do for the Lord?  What if rejoicing in the Lord is the greatest thing any of us could do for the Lord?  Would we do it, or does it seem too small, or too difficult?

Holy is His name.  I thought His name was Jehovah.  No, let’s remember that to speak of the name, in the Bible, is to speak of character: God’s character can best be described by the word holy.  But what does that mean?  One window opens when God tells Isaiah, “[M]y thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways [. . . .] As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts” (Is 55:8-9).  God is beyond us yet with us; other than us, yet we have been created, intentionally and lovingly, in His image and likeness.  We were created for a purpose; this purpose has always been, and it shall be fulfilled.

God’s holiness may also seem intimidating: how can we ever possibly hope to draw near to this holy God?!  Why would He ever want anything to do with us here on this speck in the universe?  The Spirit has opened Mary’s heart to God’s grace and glory, and she sings that God’s “mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation” (1:50).  God is holy, indeed, and God is merciful: mercy is integral to holiness, and holiness manifests itself among us in mercy.

The mercy offered by the world is permissive foolishness, endorsing any irresponsibility, enabling destructive habits.  God’s mercy is holy wisdom, that knows our weakness, lifts us up, and puts us back on the way—not our way.  Mercy knows our failings, and covers them with charity—the open-eyed charity born of Spirit and truth.  Mercy knows our hurt, and offers to apply the balm of healing, healing that comes with Spirit and truth.  Mercy knows our willed blindnesses, and asks to take us by the hand to guide us home.

And our Father won’t force anyone to receive His mercy.  He will allow people to reject Him, to despise Him.  And to those who come, by grace, to love Him, who, by grace, strive to obey Him and pray for His company and guidance along this life’s journey—to those who fear Him, in other words—to these He shows the radiant fullness of His mercy.  There is no mess we can make and no weight of sorrow out of which God cannot lift us: let us let God lift us!

Mary knew the Old Testament, the long, tangled, hard, glorious story of God’s relationship with His people: the Law, the history, the prophets, the songs, the laments, and the prayers—all the Bible there was in her day.  God was now writing a new chapter!  In one sense, the Bible tells not only of the “mighty deeds” of the Lord (1:51)—and my are there a host of those!  The Bible also tells us of how these deeds were done, in part, as God’s response to those “proud in their inmost thoughts” (1:51): His deeds of mercy, grace, and salvation are also His response to those just the opposite of the humble.  These mighty deeds are God’s acts of salvation for His humble servants, salvation only God could provide and perform.  Never let yourself think there is no help, and no one to help.  We can’t, but God can; with God, we can, too.  Those proud in their inmost thoughts are those who don’t see much value in God but see much value in themselves, who don’t have much use for God’s truth because they are always re-inventing their own.  Insofar as these value God’s Word, it is for what they can use it to excuse.  The humble, however, are changed.

Mary rounds out her song, her proclamation of praise, in language reminiscent not only of Hannah’s song and the psalms, but also the Sermon on the Mount.  God’s way is to bring down those who live to excuse and exalt themselves—bring them down, we hope, so they come to their senses, and repent!  God’s way is to lift up all who live in humble, simple, expectant reliance upon God.  When we live Christ’s words, “not my will, but Yours be done” (Lk 22:42), we are singing with Mary, as well as Christ; indeed, we are singing in company with all those who have gone before us in the faith, with those who all over this world do now stand with us in the faith; as the church, we sing also with those who shall come after us.  Let us, also, hand on this glorious faith, faithfully.  In this season of gifts, give faith.

Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and strength belong to our God forever and ever!