Fourth Sunday of Advent

The Visitation – Climbing the Mountain of Faith

Finally, the Fourth Sunday of Advent! Enough of this talk about the second coming of Christ at the end of time. Enough of hearing the bellowing of John the Baptist in the desert calling us to repentance. I don’t know about you, but I am ready for the Christmas story. And I want to hear that story in the coming days, told over and over again; the story, as the evangelist says, of “how the birth of Jesus came about.” The church does not disappointour longing for Christmas today. We hear the prophet Micah extolling the virtue of sleepy Bethlehem, the tiny, out of the way village that produced mighty King David and would host the birth of the Messiah. We hear the story of the Visitation - Mary visiting her kinswoman Elizabeth after offering her “fiat” to God by way of the angel Gabriel, agreeing to cooperate with the plan of the Father for the birth of his son.

The Gospels do not tell us where Elizabeth and her husband, the priest Zachariah lived. Luke says only that Mary went in haste to a town in the hill country of Judah. But since the third century and the time of Saint Helen, mother of the Emperor Constantine, that hill town has been identified as “Ein Karen,” another sleepy town in what is now a suburb of the modern city of Jerusalem. Like Bethlehem, it is a tiny village which today is home to a colony of artist who find inspiration in its beauty and in the quiet away from the hubbub of noisy Jerusalem.

Since the time of Helen there has been a church in Ein Karem where pilgrims can commemorate the meeting of Mary and Elizabeth – that wonderful story that gives to our prayer life both the “Hail Mary” and the “Canticle of Mary.” The most recent church was built in the 1950’s by the Franciscans of the Holy Land who care for this most sacred spot. And like most of the major churches in the Holy Land, it was designed by the Italian architect Antonio Barluzzi. Barluzzi had a distinct style. He not only designed churches which tell the gospel story, he also designs churches which convey the “feeling” of the story. For example, he designed the Church of All Nations in the Garden of Gethsemane. Using alabaster windows the church has a glowing purple light that conveys the feeling of sadness we associate with Jesus’ Agony in the Garden. He designed the church in the Shepherd’s field in Bethlehem to look like a Bedouin tent.

 The most distinctive feature of the Church of the Visitation is that it hangs precariously on the side of the Judean hill; it is not a convenient church to visit. A pilgrim must climb the hill to pray at this sacred sight. There are no escalators or elevators. Foot power is the only way for a longing pilgrim to stand on this sacred spot and hear the voice of Elizabeth echoing down the corridors of time: “Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb.”

Perhaps that is most appropriate. When we think about the events associated with the birth of Jesus we tend to remember those events as if they were following a neat little pattern outlined by the mysterious plan of God; everything falls neatly into place. That might be a proper perspective from our vantage point in history. But as the events were happening there was no blueprint or program the players were able to follow. Mary and Elizabeth and Joseph and Zachariah cooperated with a plan of God they could not foresee and could not understand. Rather, they had to say their “yes” to God’s mysterious ways and then proceed to climb the path along the side of the hill that lead to the birth of Jesus, a path that was often cold and dark, a path that was had so many twists and turns most often they could not see their destination, where it was that God was leading them.

 

It reminds of receiving a gift that says “some assembly required.” Most times that “some assembly” requires hours of work and an engineering degree. When Mary and Joseph and Elizabeth and Zechariah received the gift of being asked to cooperate with the plan of God for the birth of his son, there was lots of assembly required. They had to walk by faith along a path that often brought confusion, ridicule, and misunderstanding sometimes by those who were closest to them. Mary and Joseph were assumed to have violated the terms of their betrothal when it was discovered Mary was with child before she and Joseph lived together. Zechariah was questioned when he broke with tradition and in obedience to the command of the angel he called his son John, even though none of his relatives had that name.

The players in the story of the birth of Jesus have much to tell us about responding in faith. The “yes” we say to the mysterious plan of God does not present us with a four lane highway speeding us forward to a seen destination without inconvenience or detour. No, most often our “yes” uttered in faith finds us like Mary and Joseph and Elizabeth and Zechariah climbing a mountain path where the top of the mountain is hidden from our sight. Our life’s journey, traveled in faith, is often like the darkened streets of sleepy Bethlehem, where hopes and fears come together and we put one foot in front of the other uncertain where this God of ours is leading us.

As we celebrate this season it is good for us to remember that the warmth we associate with the radiant beams emanating from the child Jesus’ holy face was born of a world of darkness and cold. The woman who went in haste to a hill town of Judah traveled most of her life blindfolded, unable to see how the plan of God, to which she had consented, was unfolding before her. The just man Joseph, agreeing to take Mary as his wife, would spend his life in silence; remember the gospels do not record one word uttered by this just man; he truly was a silent partner in God’s plan for salvation.

In the days ahead, as Christmas angels and morning stars proclaim the holy birth, we pray that like Mary and Joseph, Elizabeth and Zechariah, when our life is uncertain,  we will look at the child born in Bethlehem and remember: no ear may hear his coming, but in this world of sin, where meek souls will receive him the dear Christ enters in.