Sermon: Mary’s Wardrobe
Texts: Micah 5:2-5a, Luke 1:39-55
Date: December 20, 2009
Rev. Dee Eisenhauer, Eagle Harbor Congregational Church
The old-fashioned paper doll—remember them?—had a bit of a resurgence the last few years when it occurred to someone to make dolls magnetic so that they could stick to the refrigerator. There was a magnetic cut out of Michelangelo’s statue of David that hit the market several years ago with a number of different outfits to stick on top of his nakedness. I can’t remember all the costumes, but it seems like they ranged from a simple Speedo bathing suit to motorcycle leathers to a tuxedo. There’s an “ObamaRama” dress-up kit for a grinning president magnet that includes business suits and basketball clothes and a Hawaiian lei.
I googled and binged for a few minutes but couldn’t come up with a similar toy representing Mary. There are magnetic dolls for Mary Jane, Mary Lou, Mary Englebrecht, and a few other Mary’s but apparently no “Mary, Mother of God” dress-up kits. I imagine it’s because she is too revered by many to make fun of, no matter how gently and sweetly.
I’ll tell you what got me wondering about this. A number of years ago there were what came to be called “base communities” that formed among Roman Catholics in Central and South America. These communities of the faithful were made up of humble, poor folk and their priests who studied the scriptures together and discussed how they applied to their lives. At least one priest published a book that captured the essence of some of their discussions. Let’s listen in to their discussion of the Magificat:
Priest: Let me read part of Mary’s song: “God has scattered the proud in the imaginations of their hearts, put the mighty down from their thrones, and exalted those of low degree; has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich has sent empty away.”
Response: Bravo! But, Father, that doesn’t sound at all like the Mary we hear about in the cathedral, and the Mary in the “holy pictures” certainly doesn’t look like a person who would talk that way.
Priest: Tell us about the Mary in the holy pictures.
Response: (displaying a picture) Here she is. She is standing on a crescent moon. She is wearing a crown. She has rings on her fingers. She has a blue robe embroidered with gold.
Priest: That does sound like a different Mary from the Mary of the song! Do you think the picture has betrayed the Mary of the song?
Response: The Mary who said that God “has exalted those of low degree” would not have left all of her friends so she could stand on the moon.
Corporate Response: Take her off the moon!
Response: The Mary who said that God “has put down the mighty from their thrones” would not be wearing a crown.
Corporate Response: Take off her crown!
Response: The Mary who said that God “has sent the rich empty away” would not be wearing rings on her fingers.
Corporate Response: Take off her rings!
Response: The Mary who said that God has “filled the hungry with good things” would not have left people who were still hungry to wear a silk robe embroidered with gold.
Corporate Response: Take off her robe!
Anguished Response: But, Father, this is not right! (embarrassed) We’re—we’re doing a striptease of the Virgin.
Priest: Very well. If you don’t like the way Mary looks in this picture, what do you think the Mary of the song would look like?
Response: The Mary of the song would not be standing on the moon. She would be standing in the dirt and dust where we stand.
Response: The Mary of the song would not be wearing a crown. She would have on an old hat like the rest of us, to keep the sun from causing her to faint.
Response: The Mary of the song would not be wearing jeweled rings on her fingers. She would have rough hands like ours.
Response: The Mary of the song would not be wearing a silk robe embroidered with gold. She would be wearing old clothes like the rest of us.
Embarrassed Response: Father, it may be awful to say this, but it sounds as though Mary would look just like me! My feet are dirty, my hat is old, my hands are rough, and my clothes are torn.
Priest: No, I don’t think it is awful to say that. I think the Mary you have all described is more like the Mary of the Bible than the Mary we hear about in the cathedral and see in the holy pictures.
There may not be a toy kit on the market to dress and undress Mary. But I think the participants in this discussion were on to something. Mary is such an iconic figure that people have imagined her looking very much “like me”—whatever that means. Although they did not articulate it, the Mary pictured in the “holy pictures” of the cathedral, with her accoutrements of wealth and power, was a portrait inspired by the hierarchy of a very powerful church. Although the artists involved in creating such portraits might not have said so in so many words, the images they created were like the church. They were a projection of the church.
Thousands of people have painted and drawn Mary in the wardrobe of their times, whether consciously or unconsciously projecting something of themselves on her. She has been dressed up and dressed down a gazillion different ways. She has put on a variety of costumes suited for the roles she has played in the human imagination. Theologian Dorothy Soelle says that until the High Middle Ages, Mary was not a particularly popular figure in the liturgies or dogmatic writings of the Holy Roman Church, at least not among the leadership. She belonged to the poor and unlettered. She was known in some circles as “the Madonna of the rogues.” There is a Polish legend that tells about a robber who calls on Mary for aid just before the hangman puts a noose around his neck. Mary hastens to him, stands under the gallows, and supports the hanged man’s feet for three days and three nights. Presumed dead, the robber is cut down from the gallows, only to run off, rendering thanks to the Virgin. There are many such stories. When a “fallen” Abbess gives birth to a child, Mary attends her as a midwife. When a nun runs away from the cloister, Mary takes her place for years at the cloister’s prayer services. In Latin America, the Madonna leone rides naked on the back of a lion—anything but tame!
If you listen closely to the words of the Magnificat, you almost have to picture Mary in the attire of a revolutionary. In the Middle Ages, I’m told, the common people would cheer lustily when the Magnificat was read. The hierarchy couldn’t stop it, but attempted to limit it by decreeing that they could only cheer three times and then they had to stop. They were very full-throated, enthusiastic cheers. In Guatemala in the 1980’s the government banned the reading and singing of the Magnificat —they didn’t want to fuel the revolutionary spirit of the people. It was considered so subversive that they were afraid it would incite the oppressed people to riot.
That may be startling to hear, because most of us have not included the gear of a radical in our imaginary wardrobe for Mary. How do we dress her in our imaginations? Does she look just like us? Picturing her dressed like a Macy’s One Day Sale fashion ad seems as though it goes a little too far. Putting her in jeans and a holiday sweater festooned with red and green baubles doesn’t seem quite right, either. A classy velvet dress with just a subtle bit of sparkle, suitable for holiday parties? Debatable. A thrift store denim maternity jumper over a turtleneck? Maybe. How do you see her?
Perhaps imagining her in clothes like ours seems too ridiculous. If it does seem ridiculous, even offensive, we might ask ourselves why this is so. I have a sneaking suspicion that we might not want to bring Mary too close. We may prefer to have her stay in her usual vaguely Baroque velvety blue gown, posing prettily with eyes cast down and hands folded. Demure and distant, almost of another world. A safe and sweet part of our holiday décor.
We can do that as long as we keep her quiet. But if we let her sing that song…look out! It’s the kind of lyric that calls for a wardrobe change, as the peasants we heard from earlier saw clearly. You can’t very well pose in brocaded silk and belt out a tune about the proud being scattered and the lowly lifted up. Barbara Brown Taylor suggests that Mary might have been as surprised as anyone at what came out of her mouth when she threw back her head to sing. She may have wanted just to sing a happy song, but, moved by the Holy Spirit, she sings of God’s blessings in her life and God’s vision of a world made right. The ideas here are not new; they were in the DNA of the Hebrew people. Mary sings a song that is personal and trans-personal, singing for herself and her child, for Elizabeth and her child, for every mother and every child. Taylor points out that this teenager is no politician or revolutionary; she is probably astonished as she finds herself singing the poetry of a prophet who envisions a world in which the last have become first, and the first, last. “She is no longer singing the song,” Taylor writes, “the song is singing her.”
This song and others like it have been singing God’s prophets and visionaries for ages. It’s a song of joy, a song of gratitude, a song of justice, a song of mercy, a song of hope, a song of faithfulness. The song sings Mary, the god-bearer. Her body and Elizabeth’s both resonate with the sound of it as their bodies make room for the birth of new hope in the world. They pick it up and relay it like human antennae.
I don’t think Mary was the only person meant to sing this song. It’s such a central theme of the music of the spheres—it’s meant for all the God lovers to hear and sing and be sung by. It’s meant to be as stirring as the most beautiful symphony, and meant to get people moving like the most rousing march. It’s meant to beat in every heart like a drum. It’s meant to ring out on every street corner and every hill and valley. It’s an enduring song seeking out voices in each generation.
Since I have paid so much attention to wardrobe, I have to ask, what should one wear to sing it? Most singers give a lot of thought to their stage costumes which say something before a note is sung. Would you or I have the right garb to take up such an awesome song? (Who was it—GK Chesterton?—who said one should beware of any enterprise that requires new clothes?)
I’m not as sure there are the “right” clothes to sing in as I feel sure there are the “wrong” clothes. Seems like the Magnificat would ring false if the singer were outfitted in an Armani tuxedo or a Versace evening gown. A thousand dollar power-grey business suit or a white silk pantsuit accessorized with a Gucci bag and Prada shoes—not so much. Know what I mean? Such attire is so at odds with the message of the song that it would make a mockery of the singer. Of course, you can change someone’s clothes and have no effect on the person. Put Paris Hilton in bib overalls as they did in her show “The Simple Life” a few seasons ago and she’s still Paris Hilton—the “lipstick on a pig” effect.
What’s called for in a person who sings God’s song as Mary sang the Magnificat is not a change of wardrobe but a change of heart. That change of heart manifests itself in a change of how one appears in the world, which may include not just clothing but one’s calendar, circle of friends, budget, car, facial expressions, and the rest of it. A person who is genuinely singing and being sung by the Magnificat will not appear in the world in the same way as someone whose theme song is “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.”
How does the wardrobe of the people singing and being sung by God’s song in our world appear? Lots of different outfits and accessories. There’s a woman singing it in my hometown who wears a back brace and gardening gloves. There’s a man at the New Horizons shelter for homeless youth who’s wearing an apron while he cooks breakfast. There’s a lady at the elementary school who’s tutoring a kid wearing one of those mushy “Grandma” sweatshirts with kittens on it. A man in a red and white Santa suit is ringing a bell for the Salvation Army. Somebody wearing tall black rubber boots is rescuing birds injured by an oil spill. A fellow in a tweed jacket is urging his Congressman to increase food stamp funding. A woman in exceedingly sensible shoes is out promoting a social justice networking project for young adults. There’s a red-faced, white-haired, pot-bellied guy wearing a battered leather tool belt at the Habitat for Humanity Cornerstone Place project in Bremerton.
As various as the wardrobes are, all those rejoicing in and working for God’s vision for our earth have this in common: in the words of Sufi poet Rumi, “We are as the flute, and the music in us is from thee.” As we sing together another version of the Magnificat, let it resonate not just in your voice but in your soul. Sing, and be sung by, God’s anthem of holiness. Ponder the new ways your life may be brought into exquisite harmony with this never-ending song of hope and joy.