Judges 5:1-11b ; 1 Samuel 2:1-10; Luke 1:46-55
Robert M Watkins
Our texts today are three hymns of praise sung by women of faith at key junctures in their lives and, as it would turn out, in the collective life of Israel. They are bold affirmations of God’s redeeming power. They are resounding statements of trust in God to be the God of God’s promises, particularly those promises made to the Least of These, those folks left out by the status quo who find themselves in the cold most of the time.
But what have they to do with Christmas? Why do I call them carols–songs which joyously sing of Christ’s birth?
To answer these questions, we will examine each song, then see how they fit the definition of a carol.
THE SONG OF DEBORAH
Deborah rose as a Judge–a misnomer, for these men and women were hardly what we would call “judges”–they did not hold sway in any courtroom, nor did they ever litigate legal matters among the tribes of Israel. Rather, they arose as they fought to gain a foothold in the Promised Land. They were warriors who led Israel against tormentors among the indigenous peoples of the Land. Without them, Israel might well never have survived the settlement stage of realizing the promise of God to create a kingdom out of these redeemed slaves. Deborah battled the Philistines led by Sisera, and she plotted a winning strategy that relied on a servant girl, Jael, playing to the worst pieces of Sisera’s personality, trapping him and eliminating him–all Jael had to do was bat her eyes at him, and he stupidly presumed he had her in his power–BANG!–she killed him.
Israel rejoiced and burst into song. God was good and grace abounds.
Christmas also stands as an unexpected interruption in the normal politics and policies of the world. In so many aspects, Christmas uses the same wiles as Deborah and Jael to bring about an acknowledgement of God’s power to redeem. Think of it–the world hijacked Christmas long ago–as far back as the 1830s, if Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” tells the truth. But we find grace in the midst of the crass commercialism that is Christmas as we know it. As our real and actual families gather beneath the tree on Christmas morning, I feel fairly confident in knowing that the gifts exchanged there are the result of thinking, connecting, and expressing the ineffable love that binds us together. As we gather together, all of us recognize that the world’s emphasis on getting and materializing immaterial spirits of love, compassion, and grace are nothing. Our joy is in one another–the sudden electric spark of a grandchild rummaging through the bright paper and packages, the deep well of devotion as our beloved opens a gift selected with care, and true and actual communion experienced at our Christmas table. It is this truth that makes Dickens’ tale so adamantly a piece of our celebration–the cynic is silenced, he finds love’s power, and he sees that appearances are meaningless, the real miracle is within. As Jael slipped into the innermost defenses of a greedy man hungry for dominance, so, too, does Christmas overturn our blind impulses to make it all glitter and gold–it is always about love, forever about compassion, and it will always be so, thanks be to God.
HANNAH’S SONG
Hannah is one of the overlooked saints of God without whom there would be no faith community as we know it. Even people who are part of that faith community, folks well-schooled in Bible and theology, forget her. She was a barren woman who believed with all her heart in the promises of God to be with the afflicted. In her day, barrenness was not a biological conundrum, but an assumed curse by none other than God. A barren woman was seen as outside the ordering presence of God’s will. As such, the community shunned her–most painfully because they did not make it a bold dictum, but rather pronounced it through the subtle works of averted eyes, wise looks, whispered commentary, or a lack of invitations. She gave herself to God, even promising that any child that should come would be God’s own child. She only wanted to taste redemption, just to know the touch of infant lips, that would be enough. God heard, God answered, and Hannah sang in bold proclamation of grace received, seeing not her own individual moment of salvation, but she affirmed God’s saving work for anyone who is in the waste of empty existence of any kind. Her child was Samuel, kingmaker and prophet, who gave Israel David, the king of kings for Israel, and forebear of Christ the Lord.
Here is a moment akin to that in the still miraculous Christmas special, “A Charlie Brown Christmas,” when Charlie Brown cries out in existential anguish that he cannot and shall not get his mind around the real meaning of Christmas–Linus confronts him with no ready answer, but instead recites Luke 2:8-14, quietly intoning as the angelic words, “Glory to God in the highest, and, on earth, peace, goodwill toward men,” hang in the air, that this is what Christmas is all about. Linus breaks through the gloom with the illuminating light of Christ; we break through the gloom of the world in 2011 with the same light when we sing together that Jesus Christ was born to save in many of our carols. We are barren, dried up, and wearied by the world as it is in this present moment–it is all too much to bear–we are tired of cynical politicians assuming our stupidity to buy into whatever illusion they present; we are tired of facing word of economic doldrums that dim prospects, comfort, and hope; we are tired of a world run by violence–I think many of our hearts broke as word came again from Virginia Tech of yet more bloodshed on its bucolic campus–all of it is too much. But the angelic chorus sings for us–there is good news of great joy; there is glory all around us; and there is peace in the earth–real, actual peace–for Christ is here, Christ lives, and Christ redeems. That is what all of this season is all about.
THE MAGNIFICAT
J.S. Bach famously set Mary’s song to music and it is a wondrous experience to sit in silence as the music and words bathe us in the glorious grace of God. Even in Latin, the wonder of Mary comes through as she finds the powerful redeeming presence of God at work within her.
And that is the point.
She is a young girl in Luke’s narrative–still a child in so many ways, hardly experienced at all in the ways of life, death, and the search for meaning; yet she profoundly knows the power of God to transcend and transform human existence. Do not miss the nearly identical phrasing of her song and that of Hannah, for, indeed, Mary sings the same truth–if God works through the literal being of a young girl, imagine what that means for all the world–there is no one and nothing that is outside the use and blessing of God. No one is beneath contempt, worthless, or to be forgotten. All are objects of God’s love, and as such, will become instruments of God, for to be loved by God is to be called by God into service–we are to be compassionate as we find compassion. It is a profound and divine word that is spoken in an alien language to that of our culture and society that routinely judges some worthy, some not; some valuable, others not so much; and celebrates celebrity while ignoring true character. The message still comes through loud and clear–God works through us, even us, to redeem the world.
And here is the way to fully embody the Spirit of Christ as we practice once again all of our Christmas traditions–they all can become instruments of grace as we embody grace in our words and actions. Be mindful, O people of God, that words matter, gestures count, and, as we give, we represent the grace received from God. What a joyous opportunity to see that the praxis of love as God requires it is not beyond us, too holy for us to practice, and out of reason–it is here and now in our very celebrations! Give glory to God, for God knows even us, and finds in us saints of faith and miracles of wondrous love.
************
So, yes, these three songs are carols. They sing of good news of great joy which is for all the people. Sing loudly, sing long–Christ is born in us today!
Amen.
