“There is no Holy One like the Lord, no one besides you; there is no Rock like our God.” – 1 Samuel 2:2

As Hannah praises the Lord, she characterizes God as a Rock. This simile of God as Rock is used frequently in the Psalms and often seems to have the meaning of refuge and/or salvation. When, like Hannah, you are in the desert, any rock is going to provide a little shade and a place to hide from your enemies. How much more of a refuge is God, the Holy One!

I grew up in the rolling hills of northeastern Oklahoma and always loved our summer trips to Colorado where my father was born. Halfway across Kansas, we could begin to see the Rocky Mountains, and their grandeur and majesty spoke to me of God’s presence and power. Now I am blessed to live in this beautiful Skagit Valley where mountains remind me daily that God is my rock.

Beginning in 7th grade I attended a Methodist church where I sang in the choir, participated in MYF, and went to Sunday night services where we sang praise songs from a book called “Upper Room Hymns.” One of my favorites was “Rock of Ages, Cleft for Me”, and as I recalled that period of my life, I began to wonder how many songs I know that characterize God/Jesus as a Rock. It turns out there are a lot! Here are a few of my favorites: “I Will Call Upon the Lord”; “On Christ, the Solid Rock I Stand”; “Rock of My Salvation”; “Oh, Lord, My Rock and My Redeemer”; and from Flor y Canto, and “El Señor es mi Fuerza”.

Dearest Lord, our Rock and Salvation, as we await again the celebration of the coming of your Son, help us to magnify your name through our praise and our actions. Lead us to glorify your name and share your blessings with those in need. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.
-Cathey Frederick

Hannah prayed and said, “My heart exults in the Lord; my strength is exalted in my God. My mouth derides my enemies, because I rejoice in my victory.” – 1 Samuel 2:1

Hannah prayed and said, “My heart exults in the Lord…” Hannah longed for but was unable to bear a child for her husband Elkanah. Finally, she gave birth to a baby boy and named him Samuel. She was so happy that she had what she had wanted and asked for in prayer for so long that she gave this baby boy, her beloved son, to God.

I think of how long I have wanted and yearned for something. If this thing were given to me, would I give it completely to God? I firmly believe that anything and everything that we want and is given to us should be handed over to God completely, with no attachments or conditions. Everything we own; our education, profession, talents, gifts, even our children should be happily handed over.

In this world of self-assertiveness, high efficiency, complete productivity, lofty goals, and self-made success, do we ever think of giving it all to God? Instead of thinking about how hard we worked to get what we want, we should bow down and give complete and sincere thanks to God for allowing us to have it all and for giving it all to us in the first place.

Father in Heaven, thank you for all you have allowed and given to me in this life here on earth. Let me remember from where it all came and love and treat everything I have accordingly. Amen.
-Sister Katharine, OSB

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