Feast of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary
I remember so well sitting in my pink bedroom reading the red-letter Bible that my grandmother gave me. The Bible is, of course, not only a challenging text but often just downright strange, especially for an adolescent growing up in the exurbs of Chicago whose family didn’t go to church. I was on my own when it came to the Bible.
Not surprisingly, I clung to the stories in the Old and New Testaments. Those I had a chance of understanding, albeit at a very basic level. The rest was way over my head.
And for me, the best parts of the stories were the figures who populated them. How fascinating it would be, I thought, to meet such figures and talk with them about their intriguing histories, complex motives, surprising strategies for resolving difficulties whether with other people or God, and all the various (and sometimes just mind blowing) interventions that God made in their lives.
I think that for me a big part of my desire to read about these figures was that I thought that if they’re in the Bible they must be able to teach me something about what it means to follow Jesus. I felt pretty confident that I knew how to be a good student and daughter, play the clarinet, march in the band, and so forth. But follow Jesus? Not so much. My big question (not the slightest bit original) was this: How am I to follow Jesus when I am not God? How was I supposed to be anything like Jesus, limited as I am as a human being who makes mistakes and comes up short all the time?
The Gospel text before us today, featuring these two very human figures, provides us with a number of clues. If these two women are something of a model for us, and I think we would agree that they challenge us to listen for God’s voice, to do what we can to answer God’s call, to be patient, to find others who can help us navigate the way of faith and to be in solidarity with them, to trust in God’s blessing, and hope for good things ahead.
That all sounds great. And it is. It’s just not always so easy to pull off. I don’t know about you, but far too often I am impatient, too busy or distracted to set aside the time to listen (never mind respond) to God’s voice, and too pressed by this or that deadline or obligation to attend to and take good care of those others. As for trusting in God’s blessing and hoping for good things ahead . . . when times are tough and the world seems to be in a tailspin of violence, disaster, anger, suffering, and greed (just to name a few common aspects of the times we live in), that trust and hope can seem so far out of my reach that I fear I am no Christian at all.
What to do?
Today, I think I learned something from these biblical figures that I can do when trust and hope seem elusive. A good place to start is right here in Luke. What a fine discipline it would be if, whenever I feel that way, I opened my Bible to the Magnificat and just read it. After all, if an adolescent girl growing up in a very patriarchal world can say “yes” to God’s proposal that she become pregnant outside of marriage, knowing full well that she will pay a heavy price for her decision, and say that she will be blessed as a result, perhaps I can find my way to persevere in faith and hope, especially if I have others around me who will help me do so.
Oh, and a few (or more) Hail Marys (thanks Elizabeth) probably would be a good idea too.
Thank you, Lord, for the gift of these people, these stories, and for communities like IC that can help us find our ways to becoming again the followers of Jesus that we want to be. Amen.
—Sue Trollinger