December 24, 2017 - Fourth Sunday in Advent
Luke 1:46b-55; Ex15:20
“Then the prophet Miriam, took a tambourine and all the women went out with her with tambourine and danced.”
The Magnificat—we are drawn to it—the beauty of word and music so powerful that the meaning is often missed. Imagine with me a young peasant girl who upon learning an amazing thing takes up Hannah’s song in 1 Sam 2. I suspect she actually danced and perhaps with tambourine speaks of the new liberation that is coming.
Mary’s song is a very old song of liberation, especially for women. It must have had its beginning with those uppity midwives Shiph’rah and Pu’ah, who resisted the powerful Pharaoh’s demand that they destroy the Hebrew boy babies at birth. “Hell, no!” was their response (loose translation). They were not about to go along with Pharaoh’s request. There is some scholarly evidence that Pu’ah will be called Miriam, Aaron’s sister. With tambourine she sings of Moses’ great gift of freedom as the people are called from slavery. (Ex 15:20) She and, along the way, Deborah, take up the song and pass it on to Hannah. Something sneaky is happening here—songs of strong women passed down to a young peasant girl named Mary, who will dance and play that tambourine. Ah yes— The Magnificat!
The Church too often has painted Mary in soft colors— pastels, blue and white, meek and mild. We prefer “Gentle Mary laid her child lowly in a manger.” But give Mary a tambourine and the song of women’s lives — the magnificat — the mighty are cast down, the weak are lifted up. Mary has her own chorus of strong women. We think of Miriam, of Deborah, of Hannah —and through the ages, here and there now and then—the tambourine is heard in the land as strong women raise it up and dance. And the dance goes on.
I think of courageous women who I have known—sign and symbol of what can be. When I was in seminary, my mother was a bit troubled because her pastor didn’t want the Women's Society of Christian Service to study a new book entitled “Kingdom Beyond Caste.” She said, “We are going to study it anyway.” The book was considered too radical in those pre-civil rights days and would stir things up a bit. My mother was too modest to dance, but she knew the right songs. Mary played that tambourine for courageous women.
Or I think of Ione Shadduck, one of the first female lawyers to practice in Des Moines, Iowa. Despite judges and colleagues who tried to keep her in her place, she won the day. Even at 94, Ione remains a strong feisty woman. Mary played that tambourine for Ione.
Or I think of a young preacher, Anna Blaedel, who passed through Grace Church, leaving a mark for justice. I can see her wearing those red boots, ready to lead the fight and dance for all people—especially LGBT kids and dreamers. Mary, play that tambourine for all of us who long for a Christmas where the celebration is special, because the love that comes down at Christmas brings with it the sound of the tambourine for justice. And this old church of ours will actually have open doors for all the people.
Dear God: Your ways are not our ways, thank goodness. We would soften your gift of justice, but within us is also the hunger and the thirst for change. Call us back to our roots. Ignore our attempts to tame the tradition that brought to this world the Savior of the world—even so your Son, our Lord, who perfectly reveals your intent and purpose for each of us. Amen.
The Rev. Bill Cotton of Des Moines, Iowa, is a retired United Methodist clergyman. He writes a weekly "Memo for Those Who Preach" delivered by email. This post is republished with permission from his newsletter.