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December 31, 2005
December 28, 2005
Magnificat - A Story
This is a Story Sermon preached on Christmas Day this year. Sometimes instead of an expository sermon, I use a story to get at the meaning of what I am trying to preach. There is an audio version on the AskThePriest Podcast over at askthepriest.org. Any similarity to real persons or events is purely coincidental.
It had been ten years ago, in 1925, that the Episcopal Sisters of Mercy had opened their convent near the small town of Jonesboro, Mississippi. A wealthy benefactress who had become an associate of the order had left the sisters a house and some land. Shortly afterwards, Mother Superior had directed that Sister Jude take a group of ten sisters and form a new chapter in this new mission field.
After her commissioning as Abbess, Jude and her sisters had traveled to their new home and been pleased with what they had found. It was situated on Gooseneck Hill, a high point just outside Jonesboro with abundant orchards and farm lands. They had set to work immediately making everything proper for their work. The first order of business was the conversion of the grand parlor into a chapel for their daily services.
Mo. Jude had made it a priority to start relationships in the town, but the going had not been easy.
Jonesboro didn’t have a Roman Catholic church, and the townsfolk didn’t know what to do with protestant nuns in full habit and wimple. Murmurs of “Papist” and “Mary Worshipers” dogged her wherever she went. People moved to the other side of the street to avoid her. The protestant ministers encouraged their members to stay away from these mysterious women. Even the local Episcopal minister didn’t seem to know what to do with these new arrivals – nothing in his low-church education had prepared him for this. After showing him the letter from the bishop, she was able to exact a promise from him to celebrate the Holy Communion for them on a regular basis, but he didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it.
Other than supplies and the visits from the priest, the sisters had very little contact with the community for the first several years, and the visitors gallery in the chapel was always empty. Monastic life soon established itself – Early rising for Matins, then work, then Noon Prayer, then more work, then Evening Prayer, a bit of relaxation, Compline, then early bed. About two years ago, things had subtly began to change. The Episcopal minister had been preaching to his congregation on the virtue of humilty, and had remarked, “If you want to know the sound of humility, you should visit the convent for evening prayer and hear the sisters sing the Magnificat, ‘He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the humble and meek. He hath filled the hungry with good things; and the rich he hath sent empty away.’ I have never heard humility so plainly stated.”
This seems to have caused some sort of stir in the Jonesboro community, as if everyone in the town had just been waiting for someone important to acknowledge the sisters’ existence. Since then, at every Evening Prayer the sisters had experienced a changing group of visitors seated in the gallery. They sat quietly and somewhat nervously, quite often pretending not to notice each other. Some people returned, but Mo. Jude thought that it was mostly people coming simply to see for themselves. Many of them left right after the singing of the Magnificat, and the rest left quickly after the end of the service, but she thought it was a beginning. One girl had caught her eye – a girl of about 15 or 16 who had come several times, and in the last few weeks with increasing regularity. She knelt during the entire service and Jude thought she spent a lot of the time crying, but by the end of the service she was always gone.
It was now Tuesday in the week before Christmas, and the air was cold and clear. A light covering of snow was on the ground. As the sisters got ready for Evening Prayer, Jude was surprised to note that the visitor’s gallery was completely empty – that might not usually bother her, but seemed for some reason to have an ominous ring to it tonight. The service began, The opening sentences, the confession, the psalm of the day, the Gloria, then the first lesson. The reader had just seated herself and the cantora had stood to begin intoning the Magnificat when the door to the outside opened and the young woman she had noticed before fell in a heap on the floor. The sisters were immediately on their feet, “Sister Anne, a blanket! Sister Constance, some tea!” She gently pulled the young woman’s head up on her lap. The young woman’s shoulders were heaving in spasms of despair. On rolling her over, she noticed something she hadn’t been able to see before. “Good Heavens, dear, you’re with child!” The other sisters arrived with blankets and tea and went to work warming her up. The young woman didn’t seem to be able to stop crying. “What’s you name, my child?” “m –m – Marion” she stuttered through chattering teeth. “What is it, dear? You’re quite safe here” said Jude as she gently stroked her hair and warmed her cold cheeks. “It’s not me” choked out Marion, “It’s Joe.” “Who is Joe?” asked Jude. “The father of my child. They’ve got him up at the old oak tree. They’re going to hang him.” “What? Why would they hang him? “ The answer came to her suddenly. “My child, is he .. colored?”
Marion’s eyes went wide – it was all the answer Jude needed. “Anne and Constance, stay with her. Everyone else, attend to me!”
Mo. Jude pulled her winter cloak from the peg and strode out into the dark, the rest of the convent following after. The line of sisters made a dark contrast against the light blowing snow as they made their way down the hill towards the north of town. It was a place that Jude had never been to, but even in her isolation had known of – a place that meant death at the hands of vigilantes. They made their way purposefully and quickly – “What are we going to do, mother?” asked one of the sisters.
“I don’t know, sister. Pray to our Lord for guidance.” As they made their way up the north road, they could see the glow of torches in the dark and could hear the yelling of an impassioned voice. Closer in, the voice became clearer. “And now, these Negroes that don’t know their own place go so far as to deflower our womanhood, thinning our blood and assaulting the natural superiority of the White race! “ As they came into the clearing of the old oak, the sisters could see it all – the young black man on the back of a pickup with manacles on his hands, a hood on his head and a noose around his neck. A large crowd gathered around, many in white cloaks, pointed hats and hoods, a few not even bothering for any show of anonymity. The speaker was standing in the back of the truck holding onto the noose, gesticulating with his other hand. He had on a hood, but Jude recognized him as the sheriff. Several of his deputies were in the crowd in their uniforms. Another hooded man was getting ready to throw the other end of the rope over a branch of the tree. “let’s Do This!” cried someone in the crowd. “Hang him now!”
Mo. Jude had never been so frightened. She didn’t know what she was doing, but kept right on walking. As she walked, her sisters came beside her in a “V” formation, and as they met the crowd, it parted – a wedge of black parting a sea of white. The sheriff stopped his oration and looked with bewilderment at the oncoming sisters. They stopped at the bed of the pickup. For a moment, silence reigned, as Jude struggled. Then she turned to sister Cecila, the cantora. “Sister, Continue.”
For a moment, Cecilia didn’t seem to understand, but then she composed herself, and began to sing in a voice initially quavering, but strengthening moment by moment,”
“MY soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.”
The other sisters joined in,”
For he hath regarded the lowliness of his handmaiden.
For behold, from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
For he that is mighty hath magnified me; and holy is his Name.
And his mercy is on them that fear him throughout all generations.
He hath showed strength with his arm; he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the humble and meek.
He hath filled the hungry with good things; and the rich he hath sent empty away.
He remembering his mercy hath holpen his servant Israel; as he promised to our forefathers,
Abraham and his seed, for ever. Amen.
As the Amen faded, Jude stretched out her hand, gesturing towards the noose around the young man’s neck.
In the following silence, no one moved. Then slowly, Jude with the assistance of two sisters got up into the bed of the pickup, moved past the sheriff, and went to the young man. She removed the noose, then the hood, and she and the sisters gently let Joe off of the truck. They gathered around him in a protective knot, and headed back the way they had came, the crowd keeping a respectful distance. Once back at the convent, Marion cried out in joy and wrapped her arms around Joe’s neck. He buried his face in her hair and kept saying, “Thank you, Jesus, thank you!” Mo. Jude started to tremble, then collapsed onto a pew. “Are you all right, Mother?” asked a startled Anne. “I am the handmaid of the Lord, may it be unto me according to His word. I am all right, child, see to Marion.”
It was an unusual Christmastide at the Convent – the sisters had not been prepared for a birth – but they did admirably. A few weeks after the new child had been delivered, Jo and Marion decided that they wanted to go somewhere where their child might grow up in less danger. The Convent gave them a small sum of money, but lost touch.
Years went by – nothing was ever said by the townsfolk about the incident, and it faded into local legend, but never again was the old oak used for its former purpose. By 1985, the number of women coming forward to become nuns had dwindled, and the Convent at Jonesboro was down to two sisters. A decision was made by the Motherhouse that the convent needed to be closed and the property sold. The order held a celebration, with sisters from all over the order present. One last time, they gathered for evening prayer in the old chapel. They made it ring with song. Mother Anne, looking out during the Magnificat, saw an African-American man seated in the visitor’s gallery. After the service, she approached him. “Hello,” he said, “My name is Jude – you probably don’t remember me.” After a second, it occurred to her, “You’re the baby born here so many years ago!” He smiled. “I heard the convent was closing, so I thought it might be my last chance.” “Your last chance for what?” “My last chance to hear the song that saved my daddy. He said that it was an angel that reached out and saved him that day.” Mo. Anne chuckled, remembering Mo. Jude. “No, not an angel. She was definitely human.” She paused a moment. “But humans can be greater than angels, if only we dare to believe it.”
David+
December 16, 2005
Into the Wardrobe
I finally got around to seeing The Lion. the Witch and the Wardrobe the other night. I thought it was an amazing film - possibly the best film adaptation of a novel I have seen. There are three things that have converged to make this film so great:
- 1. The CG. Obviously, the advances in CG make minotaurs, centaurs and even beavers come alive in a way they never have before (remember the guy in the beaver suit in the BBC adaptation?).
- The choice of a slim novel that is easier to film. As much as I love The Lord of the Rings and the Harry Potter films, the books are huge volumes. A 2.5 hour movie is too little time to capture the full scope of the book The "Back story" of Narnia is also simpler. You don't have to explain who Isildur or Sauron was or why anyone should care about rings. In a fairy-tale like the Narnia stories, you can spend more time on the main story.
- Studios have, thanks be to God, noticed that audiences appreciate attention to detail and a movie of sufficient length to tell the story properly. WETA did a fantastic job with props and costumes like they did in LOTR (I want the sword of Peter), and the confluence of short novel length with long movie length made it possible to stay true to the novel in a way that has not been possible with Tolkien or Rowling.
The movie maintained the Christian allegory (or "supposal" as Lewis would have put it) without overly forcing it. Only minor story changes were made to make it easier to film. Liam Neeson was not the voice I thought of as Aslan (thinking more of James Earl Jones) but all in all, I was very impressed and am looking forward to the following movies, as well as seeing this one again. I would not reccomend it for younger children, as it does have some very tense and violent scenes. Go see it!
David+
