Luke 1:46-55
Introduction
In the opening stanzas of the Canticle of Mary—or Mary’s Song, or “The Magnificat,” Mary sings Magnificat anima mea Dominum, “my soul magnifies the Lord.” There is an emphasis on the word “magnify” that becomes a central focus of this stanza, and really of her entire song.
Dictionary.com offers five meanings for the word “magnify.”
The first and primary meaning is to enlarge or increase the apparent size of an object by using a lens of some kind—think high school science class when you used a microscope and peered into a drop of water taken from a boys restroom stall and you saw…well let’s just leave that out of it and know that a mere drop of water holds amoebas and paramecia floating around and crashing into each other like bumper cars at an amusement park—which might you wonder how a soul can magnify anything—let alone the Lord.
Then there are of course other options for “enlarging or increasing the apparent size of an object by using a lens.” We might resort to reading glasses to make small print readable. We use a magnifying glass, a la Sherlock Holmes, to read the small print of a book or magazine—which did you know; now some hard copy versions of the Oxford Dictionary now include a magnifying glass to read entries.
And still the word magnify has even more nuances relevant to Mary’s song. For instance, magnify means also “to make more exciting; intensify; dramatize; heighten.” Yet another is: “to extol; praise.” This meaning however is rather archaic, going back to the Elizabethan era which was more than 500 years old. We don’t say today, “My soul magnifies my preacher! He has done great and mighty sermons, inspiring me to love God, help my neighbor, and deservedly bring him batches of Christmas cookies!”
Now it might do all of us some good if we returned to an Elizabethan culture of politeness and civility, but even if we did, we probably wouldn’t be saying anything about our souls magnifying anything.
Still, this word study of the archaic and Elizabethan meaning of magnify is in play in our text for today. Mary extols. She lauds and rejoices in God her Savior. All of it is a magnification of everything God is doing, a magnification of everything God is about to do.
Magnificat anima mea Dominum, her “soul magnifies the Lord.”
Move 1
During this Advent season, the love of God is enlarged for all to see. We see it in a manger scene set in a barn in Bethlehem. We see it in decorated homes—both inside and out.
We magnify the Lord in our worship and adoration of him. We magnify the sights and sounds of the season—which is solely rooted in the Advent of the Messiah, and in doing so we offer a view of Christ to the world the world might otherwise miss altogether— especially in the context of the Christ-less Christmas our secular culture observes.
But are nativities, colorful lights, and advent candles enough? Or should there be a bit more magnification? How might we magnify the Lord in the sense of enlarging Christ and the gift he brings? How might we lift up the majesty of God, and recommit to following the same Lord Mary magnifies. How could we return the primary denotative meaning of magnify and “enlarge” our understanding of the Incarnation? How might some intentional “Advent magnification” be done to “intensify” and “heighten” the meaning of the birth of Christ?
Mary’s magnification becomes an instructive piece for both why our Advent magnification is important and how we can magnify the presence of Advent and Christmas.
Move 2
All of this is worthy of magnification because we all know Mary’s situation was not only not expected, but it was far from ideal—despite how blessed Mary was feeling. No one would have faulted Mary if Gabriel’s message had filled her with the complete opposite of feeling blessed and favored. After all, a young girl who gets pregnant by an unknown male acquaintance, and without benefit of marriage, faced a dreary future. But instead, Mary seems happier than a preacher with plates full of Christmas cookies. And why might that be?
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Artist Leslie Gwynn-Garretty created this piece entitled “How God Shows Up” speaking about it saying, “Each year as I return to Jesus’ birth story, my imagination leads me to wonder about how Mary experienced both grief and joy. Apart from Elizabeth, did she have support throughout her pregnancy? Was her own mother involved? Did she have generational trauma she needed to grieve? Did the stress of their travels to Bethlehem cause her labor to happen sooner than expected? As she labored, did a midwife come? Was she afraid?
In this piece, as if looking past a curtain, we peer into this threshold moment when excruciating pain gives way ecstatic joy as Mary draws her baby to her chest and he takes his first breath. As Mary holds her baby, additional hands reach in to support them both. Maybe these are the hands of Joseph, or the hands of strangers—the inn keeper or his wife, or of a midwife who was summoned. Perhaps they are simply the hands of angels. These hands remind Mary what Christmas reminds all of us… God shows up and we are not alone.”
When it comes to magnifying the Lord in our soul we might begin by rejecting a quid pro quo understanding of the Christian life. Sadly, too many people will not agree to sign up for anything unless there’s something in it for them. Sure, I will follow Jesus, but what do I get in return?
It’s not the best telling point when the answer to that question is: “You get your world turned upside down.” But Mary for sure was having her world turned upside down, and still she never asked, “What’s in it for me?” “Favor with the Lord, you say? Great. What’s that exactly come with?”
Even when the angel Gabriel announces he is placing Mary in an impossible position, Mary humbly responds by saying, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” She knows she is not alone. And Advent reminds us—during our unexpected times, and times far from ideal—that we are not alone either.
Move 3
Now certainly the focus on Mary is instructive, but it is not the only way our souls can magnify the Lord. We should also drill down on the life of Mary’s son, Jesus, and embrace, share, join and sign up for the causes Jesus himself magnified, which included…
He urged repentance—a turning from ways of life that did not lead us to God. He required his followers to be servants. He was hard on the rich, shunning them instead of currying favor. He embraced the poor and needy with compassion instead of sending them. He was on the side of those who were pushed to the margins. He had little time for pompous religious types, always holding the mirror up to them so they could see themselves for who they truly were. He didn’t own property and had no home to call his own. He was humble—arguably to a fault—and preferred to serve rather than be served. He believed prayer was vital—modeling such over and over again. Everything the modern/stereotypical CEO is today, Jesus wasn’t. Everything the typical American wants and hopes to achieve, he didn’t want or hope to achieve. Jesus was the anti-us, the proto-human who embraced the mission for which he was sent by God with unerring tenacity.
In short, Jesus’ mission was solely focused on the total salvation of the cosmos, even though it was a mission fraught with peril from the day he was conceived. And it succeeded because Jesus lived counter-intuitively to the ways of the world every step of the way—and despite the peril of such a way of life he was nevertheless successful because it was as God planned.
It was the magnification of all God intended, and still intends today. This is the son Mary grew in her womb. This is the child she raised. This is the God-man she mourned. And by magnifying the work of her son, we extol and magnify the God who sent him, the woman who gave human life to him, and the person of Christ himself.
Magnificat anima mea Dominum. “My soul magnifies the Lord.”
Conclusion
In the opening stanzas of the Canticle of Mary—or Mary’s Song, or “The Magnificat,” Mary sings Magnificat anima mea Dominum, “my soul magnifies the Lord.” There is an emphasis on the word “magnify” that becomes a central focus of this song. “Magnify” has many different meanings. Choose one or all of them. Extol, enlarge, intensify, dramatize, heighten. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we understand why we are to magnify the Lord, and then, that we do magnify the Lord.
I’m confident to say we all know why we are to magnify the Lord. We know Jesus, and we know what He has done for all humanity. So how will we magnify the Lord? How will we extol, enlarge, intensify, dramatize, heighten our Lord?
This is what we must ask ourselves in this season of Advent because we, like Mary, know we are blessed, and we know when we magnify the Lord—no matter the impossible positions, the unexpected times—we know we are not alone; that there are hands reaching out always to hold us, to lift us up, to keep us going no matter what.
And that is the gift that comes at Christmas. And it must be magnified—now, in this season of Advent—so that others can know too that in their impossible positions, their unexpected times, that they are not alone either. That is the joy filled promise we prepare for during Advent. And we, like Mary, must never hesitate to magnify this Good News.
Magnificat anima mea Dominum. Amen.
Pastoral Prayer, December 11, 2022, Advent 3
Holy God scripture tells us you came to Mary through an angel, loud and clear, impossible to miss.
Scripture tells us Mary listened; she rearranged her life to follow your invitation.
Holy God we long for such. We long to hear your voice— loud and clear, impossible to miss. We long for invitations to something more, something deeper. We long to be like Mary and find the courage to follow.
So we pray… Clean out our ears. Brush the dust off our hearts. Trace us back to our roots—back to Mary, who heard with readied ears and followed with a humble and faithful heart.
Help us to be like Mary who reminds us that grace is within reach.
In the world full of competition, help us choose celebration.
In a world full of scarcity, help us choose abundance.
In a world of war and violence, help us choose peace and grace.
In a world of divided lines, help us choose connection and relationship.
In a world of quick assumptions and stereotypes, help us choose curiosity and compassion.
And then after striving to choose a better way, may we be transformed.
May the story of Mary rattle something loose within us.
May the story of Mary help us drop the need to be prideful, or to be the best, or to have it all figured out.
Instead, may her story, her song, draw us closer to authenticity, and closer to you.
Holy God, may this story—this song of imperfections—sew grace into our bones. May we catch glimpses of your joy and love in our world. May we shake off the dust of our old selves and live into something new.
And may we be a little more like Mary, magnifying you, our Lord, each and every day of our lives.
We pray you would listen now to the prayers of our hearts as we share them in this time of Holy Silence.
All this we pray in the name of Mary’s son, our Savior, Jesus the Messiah, who taught us to pray saying, “Our…”