Luke 1:39-45
In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”
Like Hannah from last week, Elizabeth plays an important part in Mary’s story – and so the story of Jesus, too. However, Elizabeth, John the Baptist’s mother, is a contemporary of Mary and Jesus, less obscure, and more familiar to most of us than Hannah was. Still, Mary’s Aunt Elizabeth, for whatever reason, doesn’t make it into any of the other Gospels. And the two seem an unlikely pair.
Elizabeth was old. Mary … young. Elizabeth had been married for years to Zechariah, the priest. Mary was merely betrothed to a carpenter named Joseph. Elizabeth had tried and prayed and hoped to become pregnant but, unsuccessful, decided she was too old and barren for childbearing. Mary may very well have believed herself too young even to get pregnant – not to mention the whole issue of her virginity. This isn’t something she would have wanted, but there she was, “in the family way,” as they used to say; at least if what that angel said was true.
So you can’t help but wonder why Mary would want to visit with Elizabeth out there in the hill country. (Remember, that’s where we heard John the Baptist was, just this past Sunday, baptizing people out in the wilderness of Judea – apparently not far from where he was born and raised.)
- Maybe Mary was frightened of what her own parents might say, but knew she had this cool Aunt Elizabeth who would understand.
- Maybe Mary – in spite of all her best intentions to do the right thing by God – had thoughts of disappearing so that all of this might be kept a secret somehow.
- Maybe she wanted to confirm what the Angel told her: if her aunt really was pregnant after all these years, then perhaps what the angel had said about Mary really was going to happen after all, too.
- Maybe Mary hoped her Aunt Elizabeth could offer advice about what to expect and about what she could do to get ready for whatever was to come.
We may never know or be able to imagine all the things running through the mind of a young, pregnant, unmarried, first-century peasant girl as she made her way to visit Elizabeth, out in the wilderness of those hills. But I suspect at some level – no matter what her fears and plans might have been when it came to explaining all of this to her friends and family – Mary just needed to share it with someone who she knew would understand and who would love her, even if others might not.
See, I like to imagine Aunt Elizabeth – the wife of Zechariah … the priest, remember – was the kind of woman who laughed too loudly in polite company, and said more than she was supposed to sometimes; that maybe she even cussed a little – that she was a bit rough around the edges, for the wife of a priest, anyway. And I imagine the people in Judea loved her for it – and that so did Mary.
So I like to imagine Elizabeth was the cool aunt who explained things to Mary that she hadn’t learned at home, yet, about birds and bees, and babies – and about how all of this would have, should have, could have happened, had her lost virginity not been such a mystery.
And I like to imagine Aunt Elizabeth was a first century feminist, too – had there been a word or a way for such a thing in those days – who helped Mary see and even sing about the power a woman could hold – the power they both held, actually – alive in their wombs, growing in their bellies, that they would cradle in their arms, that they would gift to the world. The power to raise up their boys, I mean, to “cast the mighty down from their thrones,” “to raise up the lowly,” “to send the rich away, empty” and all the things Mary sings about and likely learned from Hannah, as we wondered about last week. Maybe Elizabeth was the one who prayed and unpacked and pointed all of that out to Mary during that visit.
Anyway, I imagine Mary had her suspicions about that angel and his promise to her – who wouldn’t?! – and that she wanted Elizabeth to tell her … to assure her … to promise her … that there was more than she could see about all of this at the moment.
See, that angel never told Mary to go and visit Elizabeth but I believe all of that is why Mary ran to see her: for camaraderie, for support, for encouragement, for someone with whom she could share common ground – for hope. I believe their visit was about one woman seeking another when she needed help, advice, a life-line, perhaps; someone to tell her this would be okay, in the end; that she could do this, after all; that she wasn’t as alone or as in danger or as unprepared and incapable as she must have felt … when she wasn’t talking to angels, anyway.
And isn’t that something all of us have felt at some time or another? Uncertain, overwhelmed, out of our element … afraid, alone, certain no one understands or has traveled this road before … unprepared, over our head, out of faith …
Like Mary, don’t we want to share questions with someone who’s asking them too? Don’t we want to name our fears with someone who’s been scared, just like we are? Don’t we want to be free to wonder, to dream, and to ask hard questions with a like-minded soul – with someone who’ll feel free to wonder and dream and ask hard questions, without judgment, right along with us?
Don’t we all long for someone – filled with the Holy Spirit, if we’re lucky, like Elizabeth was – to remind us how blessed we are; inside and out, even when it doesn’t always feel that way? Someone who’s always glad to see us coming, no matter what or when, and who welcomes us without reservation? Someone who can’t be shocked or surprised by whatever news we have to share – good, bad, something to celebrate or to be ashamed of, even. Someone to affirm that we’ve made the right, faithful choice – even when it’s hard, even when no one else is likely to agree? Someone to remind us of God’s place in our midst and God’s power in our life? Someone to show us how loved we are, not just to say it?
That’s who Elizabeth was to Mary, I believe. And I don’t think it’s too much to say that Elizabeth was a picture of Christ for Mary – and for all of us, still. Elizabeth was to Mary who Jesus means to be for each of us and for all people.
When we want someone who understands the questions we ask – God promises us Jesus.
When we want someone who knows about the things that scare us most – God promises us Jesus.
When we want someone who shares our pain and our joy and our dreams and our destiny – God promises us Jesus.
When we want someone to confirm and promise that we are, indeed, blessed in the eyes of our Maker – God promises us Jesus.
And, in the meantime, all of us need – or maybe we need to be for someone else – an Aunt Elizabeth.
Maybe we need – or need to be – one who listens without judgment.
Maybe we need – or need to be – one who believes the unbelievable on behalf of someone we love.
Maybe we need – or need to be – the one who encourages when others won’t, who loves when others don’t, who abides, who hopes, helps, comforts, commiserates; who shows up, sits with, supports, and stands by, no matter what.
Because that’s what she said… and what she did - Elizabeth for Mary, thanks be to God.
Because who knows what might have come of Mary, had Elizabeth not come through for her in the first place? Would she have found the practical help she was looking for? Would she have mustered the courage required to endure what was coming? Would she have found the faith it took … to answer her call … to do God’s bidding … to sing her song so that we could, too?
Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.
