Music being the most direct route to my heart, I love Anglican musical traditions. Evensong, for example, with many gorgeous musical settings of the Magnificat, a centerpiece for this time of prayer.

“My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior…”

Mary’s audacious proclamation from her place of low degree warns the high and mighty of their precariousness apart from a proper reverence for God’s favor to the humble and poor.

“He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty.”

Well-fed Episcopalians, including me, sing this text, sometimes wearing expensive liturgical garments and standing amid architectural finery. Ironic, no? That’s not lost on me, vested in cassock and surplice and tippet, swept up in the beauty of the plainsong while light from stained glass falls across the page of the score.

“…He has mercy on those who fear him, in every generation.”

The music evokes reverence and awe (or “fear”), as befits the contemplation of the Being in whom we have our being, whose essence is mercy.

We sing on:

“…for he has remembered his promise of mercy,
The promise he made to our fathers, *
to Abraham and
his children forever.”

We are among that multitude, as numerous as grains of sand on the shore, as stars in the heavens. You and I and all the rest. Mercy is our inheritance.

Mary’s song has a sharp edge of warning against complacency, against a hard heart, against the delusions of power wielded without awe toward God’s mercy.

God is merciful. We’re bidden to let this truth transform us.

And so we sing:

“Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit: *
as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen.”
-Fr. Jonathan Weldon

“And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, …for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is God’s name…”

I always sit in wonder at Mary’s faith-filled response. Unlike others who are documented as arguing, laughing, questioning, or quaking in their boots at the announcement of their miracle — Mary celebrates with unadulterated joy and immediately, humbly turns the focus on the miracle worker God who was showing up big with a big ask (wonderful, yes — but a life-quakingly big ask).

But… it took me a whole 60 words before I typed “but.” One of my character flaws is I tend to disrupt joy with the “but.” I can’t read even the mighty Magnificat without it creeping in! See, we read scripture and know the end of the story. We know the miracle arrival for all history and humanity. The resurrection, our salvation, the peace indescribable, the Spirit. But Mary had to walk the days in between the joy-filled announcements and the miracles when the miracles weren’t. A miracle would have seemed timely when there were side-glancing neighbors or no room in the Inn or when an insecure lunatic planned murder for all the baby boys in town. I rejoice with Mary in Luke 1, but I think I relate more to the in-betweens further on in the gospel because the in-betweens are tough sometimes. I confess with Mary that God is indeed good, but I always have nagging questions, and this can blur my joy.

So often, God doesn’t seem to show up during the in-between. Lord, give me faith more like Mary who rejoiced without always focusing on the boot about to drop. Help me celebrate wholeheartedly and trust you more completely.
-Nicole Smith

Two things to know about me:

1. I root for underdogs.
2. I enjoy schadenfreude (taking joy at the misfortune of others).

I’m sure that second statement sounds like it would be antithetical to the Christian life, but it is more that I enjoy seeing unethical people struggle in the end. I love seeing bullies face justice, people who commit embezzlement leave in handcuffs, and unjust politicians be sentenced to jail time. I prefer to think that I’m “justice-minded”. 🙂

The Magnificat fits into that “justice-mindedness”. A teenage girl in an occupied land is singing about the social order being turned upside down. Those who are starving will be fed, and those who are well-fed will starve. Those in power will lose it, and those with no power will find themselves lifted up. It sounds amazing and honestly too good to be true. However, all of this came true in the actions of her son Jesus. He fed people, healed those whose illnesses were preventing them from being part of the community, called out those in power, and even pulled one over on Rome (the hated conqueror and occupier of Judea) by coming back to life after they brutally executed him.

In this devotional book, we are going to look at the Magnificat, but we will also look at three readings that came before it. Hannah’s song in 1 Samuel 2 mirrors the Magnificat in many ways, so we will start with it. The Annunciation and Visitation set the scene for the Magnificat so those will be looked at as well. Interspersed are a couple of essays from people in the parish on what the Magnificat means to them.

As always, there is a playlist with various settings of the text. You can find it here.
May you be blessed this Advent season!
-Jen McCabe