LUKE uses this passage as theological glue. It shows how the 2 conception stories (of John, then Jesus) speak to one another. John is the brand new Elijah, who will herald God’s Messiah. Jesus is that Messiah, who will affirm John’s unique position as a bridge between the old covenant and the brand new.
Mary, meanwhile, represents redeemed humanity. I say “redeemed” because her act of obedience to God (“Be it unto me”) can be her affirmation of belief in her virginal motherhood. That is a literal act of religion in Jesus: it “saves” her. Because she accepted him and his true nature, later generations of the faithful, the moment they do likewise, change into her successors. The commentator Raymond Brown describes this as “a commissioning of Mary as the primary Christian disciple”.
Now, the arrangement of the passage as a complete clicks into place, in the exact same way as flat-pack furniture doesn’t. Mary’s visit to her kinswoman is the primary dispersal of the excellent news: a really missional act. Through Mary, Elizabeth perceives God at work in human events: on this, whether we reply to the part played by Mary with reverence or suspicion, we’re all Elizabeth’s successors.
If we wish to interpret the visitation (as this episode is traditionally labelled), we must grapple with salvation-history in all its incomprehensible scope. How and why God selected this fashion of inaugurating his everlasting Kingdom change into pressing questions. Whatever we might imagine in regards to the part played by Mary within the revelation of the Christ, we still need a word to explain what has been set in motion.
In earlier times, theologians would speak of God’s “economy”, or “dispensation”, of salvation. One word is of Greek origin, the opposite comes from Latin, but each encompass ideas of windfall, history, and, above all, a plan. We are usually not to suppose that salvation unfolded in this fashion since the time “happened” to be right.
Perhaps the closest synonym for these two ideas is “design”. But that term has been harnessed to a unique type of theology (“intelligent design”). So — even though it captures the conviction of God’s hand at work in human affairs, which was so fundamental to the birth of the brand new form of religion — it might be best avoided.
From 17 December, the series of liturgical prayers often known as the Advent “O” antiphons (most familiar from the hymn “O come, O come, Emmanuel”) have been fostering a rise in Christian expectation. They lay out the pattern of God’s dispensation, because it later got here to be understood, through a series of titles for Christ: Wisdom, Lord, Root of Jesse, Key of David, Dayspring, King, Emmanuel. These prayers, so pure, so classic of their form (all consist of an address to God, a reminder of his nature, and a petition), were perhaps of Jewish origin and repurposed by Christians.
Many scholars think the identical is true of the canticle Magnificat (Luke 1.46-55), and its companion text Benedictus (1.68-80). Whatever its origin, if Luke himself found the Magnificat and adapted it to explore Mary’s response to God’s “dispensation”, Mary’s song should be sooner than Luke’s Gospel. Comparisons are drawn with the song of Hannah in 1 Samuel 2. But the words of Habakkuk 3.18, “I’ll rejoice within the LORD; I’ll exult within the God of my salvation,” are even closer than Hannah’s to Mary’s Magnificat.
When readers of Luke focus more on explicit statements than implicit meanings within the Magnificat, social radicalism involves the fore. This is consonant with Luke’s attitude to the poor elsewhere in his Gospel. But, when he calls people “poor”, it’s more a spiritual than a political statement. Redistribution of wealth, in other words, cannot take the place of receiving the Kingdom.
As Advent makes way for Christmas, here’s a gift: another person’s insight. I turn again to Raymond Brown, from whose writings I actually have benefited much and infrequently. He has studied the Gospel infancy narratives meticulously, helping my understanding repeatedly. Brown takes up the theme of God’s exaltation of the standard (verses 48, 52: each individual and group). He remarks that other New Testament texts explore that theme when it comes to its Christological meaning (e.g. Philippians 2: answering the query “Who is Jesus?”). But here, he says, the exaltation of the lowly is soteriological (answering the query “What does Jesus do?”). A protracted word for an immense idea: Jesus comes to avoid wasting us.
