Picture Windows of the Gospel

Homily for December 22, 2024
The Fourth Sunday of Advent
Luke 1:39-45

On the walk between the rectory and Trinity, I pass not one, not two, but three real estate agencies.  I sometimes glance at the pictures in their windows of the homes for sale and imagine what it might be like to cook in that kitchen, or to sit in front of that fireplace, or to look out from that big picture window, or to stand on that balcony, or to sit in a deck chair next to that swimming pool.  To stimulate our imagination about these homes is of course why the real estate agencies post these photographs.  The real estate agencies hope that, when we view these “glam shots,” our imaginations will kick into gear, and we will begin to imagine things like:  “If I buy this home, this home will open me to having these experiences, to feeling these feelings, to living this kind of life.”  

Luke – from whose Gospel we will hear this coming year – [Luke] is a master of taking “glam shots,” as it were, of telling vignettes that help us to imagine what it might be like to be there in the story.  Indeed, many artists have imagined what it might be like to be in Luke’s stories.  Consider, for example, Fra Angelico’s “Nativity,” or Rembrandt’s “The Return of the Prodigal Son,” or Velázquez’, “Servant Girl at Emmaus,” not to mention the dozens of artists who have painted the Annunciation – all scenes from the Gospel of Luke.  These paintings invite us to imagine what it might be like for us to be there at the manger with Mary and Joseph.  They invite us to imagine what it might feel like for us to be the Prodigal, to have the father’s hands placed on us,and for us to kneel before the father, our head leaned into his chest.  Or they invite us to imagine the moment that Mary receives the news from the angel Gabriel and what it must be like to be thus visited and chosen.

Today’s Gospel lesson from Luke chapter 1 is the story of the so-called Visitation, the visit of the pregnant Mary to her kinswoman Elizabeth. The Visitation is yet another of Luke’s masterful “glam shots.”  Here is the young, youthful Mary who is not supposed to be pregnant but is; here is the older Elizabeth who likewise is not supposed to be pregnant but is.  Mary is here because she said “Yes” to the angel; Elizabeth is here because her husband doubted the angel.  Luke sets the story in "a Judean town in the hill country,” which is sort of like setting the story in Vermont.  Luke fills the passage with blessing – “Blessed are you among women,” Elizabeth says to Mary, “and blessed is the fruit of your womb.”  The passage features the Holy Spirit – “And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit,” Luke writes.  And – to add icing onto the cake – Luke includes poetry:  “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,” sings Mary.

In just a few verses, Luke writes a beautiful story that draws us in and engages our imagination.  And – as with so many of Luke’s stories – artists likewise have imagined the Visitation:  Raphael painted a famous Visitation; Rembrandt painted a famous Visitation.  Luca della Robbia did a terracotta sculpture that maybe ten years ago was on loan to the MFA.

But more important than artists imagining Luke’s stories is that we the readers imagine Luke’s stories.   And to imagine not only what the story might look like, but to imagine also – as with those real estate adds for homes – [to imagine also] what it might be like to be, to live, in the stories.  What might Mary look like?  What might Jesus look like?  What is the expression on their face?  What is the tone in their voice?  And most importantly, What is going on inside us as we look and as we listen?  What are we experiencing?  What do we feel?

And so, for example, in the story of the Prodigal Son what it might feel like to have the Father’s hands placed on us, and to imagine ourselves kneeling penitent before the father and pressing our head into his chest.  Or in the story of Zacchaeus what might it be like for us to urgently want to see Jesus, and then for Jesus to meet our gaze and to hear Jesus invite himself into our home.  Or, in Luke’s story of the Good Samaritan,what would we do if we came across a man beaten by robbers and lying by the side of the road?  Or in Luke’s story of Lazarus and the rich man, what would we do if we had a poor man who lay at our gate and who longed to satisfy himself with the crumbs that fell from our table?

And so also in today’s story of the Visitation…  What might it be like to imagine ourselves pregnant with Jesus?  And what might it be like to hear Elizabeth say to us, “Blessed are you… and blessed is the fruit of your womb”?   Or what might it be like to imagine ourselves as Elizabeth, being visited by Mary and for Mary to stay with us in our home for three months?  Or what might it be like to imagine ourselves living a life of praise, “magnifying the Lord” and “rejoicing in God my Savior”?  Or can we imagine living in a world in which“he has lifted up the lowly and filled the hungry with good things?”  Luke writes these stories, not merely so artists can paint them, but so that – like the homes pictured outside the real estate agencies – we can imagine ourselves living in them.  

Almost every Sunday for the coming year we will be walking by the “windows” of Luke’s Gospel.  Luke is the master of the “glam shot.”  His eye and vision beautifully frame the events in Jesus’ life.  I encourage us not to rush on by, but to allow ourselves to linger and to imagine what it might be like to live here.  For though a house – like any thing we could buy – can never deliver on the “glam” of the “shot,” following Jesus, allowing ourselves to live in and alongside him, fills our hearts, satisfies our souls, and opens us to the possibility of realizing the joy and peace that deep-down we seek.