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December 6, 2020 Advent Reflection

Luke 1:39-45

How do I respond to miracles? Or the miraculous around me? How attuned am I to the Holy Spirit? Or the Spirit’s work in the lives of others?

These are some of the questions this passage elicited for me. Firstly though, I need to stress how very relevant this passage is to my current life. I too find myself six month pregnant, much like Elizabeth. Like Elizabeth, I am an older mother – “geriatric” is the term deployed by medical professionals – and I have had many disappointments, miscarriages and losses in the past, including a stillbirth last year. Much like Elizabeth, the baby I’m carrying is truly a miracle for a number of reasons. However, the resemblances end there. Unlike the two holy women described in these passages, I am not always at peace, filled with the Spirit, or abiding in the presence of the miraculous. On the contrary, often I find myself very anxious, restless, questioning, grieving previous losses or reliving some former trauma. Like poor mute Zechariah, I find myself repeatedly asking God: “How can I be sure of this?” (Lk 1:18).


I find it thought provoking to consider how very differently I would respond to the situation of both pregnant (but very holy) Mary and Elizabeth. First, let us consider Mary. Soon after hearing the angel Gabriel’s message, Mary hurries off to confirm her miracle by visiting Elizabeth, whose pregnancy Gabriel used to substantiate God’s miraculous omnipotence: “Nothing is impossible with God.” (Lk 1:37) Now, it turns out that Elizabeth did not live in the hill country outside of Nazareth, but some 100 km away, or a 5 day journey by caravan through some dangerous mountainous terrain. Personally, this wouldn’t be a journey I’d want to do alone as a young woman, let alone a nauseous pregnant one. Perhaps Joseph accompanied Mary on her journey, but what an awkward journey that would be! How could Mary not mention the miracle she had just experienced? In any case, if it were me, I would have likely not have even set out that trip towards the miraculous. I would have likely tried to resolve the issue with a letter or by listening to village gossips. I may have used work expectations as an excuse – it was harvest time after all… But most likely, inside, I would have been paralyzed with worry – how would Joseph react? What would my family think? What would folks in the village say? etc. Sadly, unlike Mary, I all too often remain stuck in the problems of “real-life,” instead of letting God lead me towards the miraculous.


Then there is Elizabeth. We learn that upon learning that she was pregnant, she too firmly believed that God had finally answered her prayers (Lk 1:25). Then she withdrew from society for five months, so to live fully in the presence of her miracle. Again, this wouldn’t be a choice I’d make! In this time of forced isolation, we all know hard it is to be deprived of our broader community. I can hardly imagine living through in isolation without the Internet, and so without my various friends, fellow church members, mommy or bereavement groups. Especially if I were Elizabeth, who clearly felt ashamed of her infertility, I would want to flaunt my pregnancy before others and finally be part of the mommy discussions I had been excluded from my entire adult life. I would not be eager to be at home my mute husband as my sole companion. Except that Elizabeth clearly doesn’t see it that way – she does not see herself as retreating from society, but rather as retreating with God, abiding in the Spirit, and enjoying or revelling in the miraculous.


Only by understanding some of these choices and dynamics does today’s passage make sense. Here is the meeting of two deeply Spirit-filled women, who have made choices someone ordinary like me has trouble grasping: God-oriented choices, Spirit-filled choices and choices that revolve around the miraculous. Only then does it makes sense that Elizabeth feels her babe kick and interprets it as “leaping with joy.” (Lk 1:41) Again, as an ordinary person living in “real-life” and not the miraculous, I would likely interpret a major kick as worrisome – maybe something was wrong! Yet, because she has been on retreat for 5 months, Elizabeth is immediately filled with the Spirit, correctly interprets the leap of joy, and then proceeds to proclaim the verse Roman Catholics repeat millions of times in the Rosary: “Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.” I am also very touched by what the elder Elizabeth then says to Mary, a much younger woman. She fully acknowledges that Mary is her superior because of the child she is carrying, and she praises and blesses Mary for her faith and her faithfulness. Elizabeth is therefore fully aware that she is the presence of the miraculous when Mary enters the room, and she is awe-filled, humble and profoundly grateful in the presence of this miracle. And unlike Peter or some of disciples who take much of the Gospels to figure it out, Elizabeth immediately grasps that Mary is the mother of “her Lord.”


Clearly this passage suggests that those who are filled with the Spirit will be able to recognize the Miraculous better. However, even as an ordinary person, I can see that I don’t have to be holy Mary or holy Elizabeth to celebrate God’s miracles in the lives of others, or to give thanks for praises or answers to prayers. All I have to do is to pay attention about how God is working in the lives of other people. Or to encourage other people in their journey towards the Miraculous, commending them for small acts of faithfulness, trust or courage on their way. In this season of Advent, we are all invited to abide in the presence of the Miraculous, to travel towards the Miraculous, to be humbled, awed and grateful for the Miracle of God-With-Us. This passage helped me identify some of the excuses I make to remain stuck in “real-life” problems and separated from God at this time. However, it also helped me see some of the ways I can move closer to the Miraculous – by recognizing and revelling in God’s miraculous work in the lives and actions of others.


Shared by Madelaine Hron


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