TLDR: The Magnificat is a revolutionary song of cosmic reversal and divine favor for the poor, the needy, and those who thirst for justice. In this incredible song we are reminded that God has always been on the side of humanity and God will vindicate the poor in due time. Read on for more.
She is young. She is afraid. And she carries a great secret in her heart. God has passed over the great centers of the world, the cities of power, the seats of learning, the halls of influence, and has chosen instead a small village in an occupied Roman territory. God has passed over the wealthy, the educated, and the well-connected women of the day and has come to her: a young girl with little education, little wealth, and very little freedom. She is a woman in a man’s world.
She is a subject in the Roman empire. She is an innocent child in a time of deep darkness, a time marked by corruption, sin, apathy, and ignorance. And yet she is chosen.
This is how God breaks into the world, not through power, prestige, or privilege, but through humility and vulnerability. The story of salvation does not begin in a palace or a courtroom. It begins in the body of a frightened young girl who says yes to God when saying yes could cost her everything. The Creator of the universe decides to become human. The Great I AM, the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, the source of all that has ever been and all that will ever be, takes on flesh and bone, skin and fragility. God chooses to live within the limits of human life. This is the great scandal of the Incarnation: the infinite becomes finite, eternity enters time, and divine power is wrapped in human weakness.
And Mary, humble and afraid, is chosen to carry this mystery. She will nurture divinity into human life. God will grow within her, develop organs, take shape, move, and one day be born into a human family. He will live a human life, grow in wisdom, and eventually die a human death. The Creator of the universe entrusts himself to her body.
My favorite line of a famous Christmas song says, “The child you will deliver will soon deliver you.” This is the secret she carries, a secret too dangerous to share publicly, and yet too heavy to bear alone. A pregnancy outside of marriage could destroy her life. Yet the secret is also too great to keep to herself. And so, Luke tells us, Mary goes “with haste” to visit her cousin Elizabeth. When Mary enters the house, something extraordinary happens. The child in Elizabeth’s womb leaps with joy. John the Baptist becomes the first person to recognize Jesus as Savior, not after birth, not after preaching, but before either has drawn breath. His faith is prenatal, rooted in the deepest place of his being.
Elizabeth names what Mary herself cannot yet say aloud: God is present in a unique way in both of their lives. At Elizabeth’s blessing, Mary responds with a song so powerful that theologian Robert Jenson once said, “The entire Gospel of Luke can be read as a commentary on this song.” This is the Magnificat, and it is not sentimental poetry. It is revolutionary theology. “My soul magnifies the Lord,” Mary sings, “and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” This must be the song of the Church today. We gather week after week not to celebrate our strength, our cleverness, or our creativity, but to proclaim that God alone is our Savior. Not by our innovation will we be redeemed. Not by our institutions will eternity be secured. Blessed be God, who saves humanity from the inside out.
Mary continues: “He has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his Name.” This is not a song of self-praise. It is a declaration that God sees the lowly and acts on their behalf. God does not wait for humanity to become worthy of redemption. God becomes human to declare that humanity already is worthy of God’s love. Because God has chosen to become one of us, we are not abandoned to our weakness, our sorrow, or our sin. In Christ, we have a defender, a restorer, and a warrior who stands against all that dehumanizes us. The Incarnation proclaims that God is not done with humanity.
Mary’s song moves quickly from personal gratitude to cosmic reversal. God scatters the proud in their conceit. God pulls down the mighty from their thrones and lifts up the lowly. God fills the hungry with good things and sends the rich away empty. This is not abstract theology. It is a promise that the systems of injustice that shape our world will not last forever. Human thrones will fall. Empires and governments will crumble, but God’s mercy will not end. Those who hunger for God will be filled. Those who depend on God will find help. Those who trust in their own sufficiency will be disappointed.
Mary reminds us that God remembers mercy from generation to generation. As God has come, God will come again. As God has been the help of ages past, God will be the hope of ages yet to come. Christ’s humanity is God’s promise to future generations. Our children and our children’s children will encounter a God who has not abandoned humanity, but who has chosen to dwell within it. They will encounter a God who stands firmly on humanity’s side. Mary’s song also reminds the Church of a hard truth: without Christ, we do not have a Church. No structure, ideology, or human system can replace Christ. He is the promise to Abraham, the cornerstone of faith, and the author of our salvation. When the Church forgets this, it loses its focus and strips God of all power. It is time for Mary’s song to be sung again from every pulpit. God alone vindicates the innocent, rescues the oppressed, frees the captive, and raises the outcast. Christ is the hope of the poor, but only for those who know they are poor. He is Savior only for those who know they need saving. He is Lord only for those willing to follow.
Mary’s song confronts our self-sufficiency. If we believe we have no need for God, we will have no use for this Messiah. But if we are willing to admit our dependence, our need, and our hunger, then this child is born for us. So, may the Church learn again to sing: “Come, save us, Lord, for without you we are lost. Forgive us Lord for our arrogance and our inhumanity. Be our hope, our Savior, and our future. Blessed be your name forever. Amen.”
May the newborn child continue to bless you. Merry Christmas,
Fr. Roman+
