Mary Ark of the Covenant

4TH SUNDAY OF ADVENT, YEAR C 

December 23, 2018

Luke 1:39-45, 56

One of the Blessed Virgin Mary’s traditional titles in such devotional texts as the Litany of Loreto is “Ark of the Covenant.” At first glance, it may seem a strange title. But in today’s Gospel of the Visitation, Saint Luke makes a number of subtle allusions likening Mary to this sacred object from the Old Testament.

A bit of background may be helpful. The Ark of the Covenant was a gold-covered wooden chest constructed according to God’s instructions to hold the two stone tablets of the Law that Moses brought down from Mount Sinai. Also placed in the Ark was a jar of manna, the bread from heaven that fed the Israelites in the wilderness, and Aaron’s rod, the staff that miraculously bloomed to prove God’s choice of Moses’ brother Aaron to be Israel’s first high priest. The Ark was about four feet long, three feet wide, and three feet high. Attached to its corners were four gold rings through which two poles were inserted to carry it about. On its lid, known as the Mercy Seat, were the golden figures of two Cherubim.

During the forty years wandering in the wilderness, the Ark went ahead of the people. Wherever the Israelites camped, they placed the Ark in a special tent known as the Tabernacle or the Tent of Meeting. The Ark was, in effect, God’s throne upon earth. Whenever Moses wanted to consult the Lord, he entered the Tent of Meeting, and the Lord came down upon the Mercy Seat. A luminous cloud known as the Shekinah would overshadow the Tent of Meeting signifying the divine presence within; when Moses emerged out of the Tent his face glowed with supernatural light, so that he had to veil himself to avoid terrifying the people.

After the Israelites entered the Promised Land, the Ark resided for two hundred years at a place called Shiloh. Eventually, King David brought it to Jerusalem (about which I will say more in a moment). Later, David’s son King Solomon constructed the Jerusalem Temple to house the Ark in its inner sanctum, the Holy of Holies. After the Babylonian Conquest of Jerusalem in 586 BC, the Ark disappeared from history – although all sorts of weird and wonderful theories abound as to where it ended up. In the time of Jesus and the apostles, however, the Holy of Holies remained empty, although even without the Ark, it was still most sacred space, God’s dwelling on earth.

Now, the original readers of Luke’s account of Mary’s Visitation to Elizabeth would immediately have recognized its parallels with the story of David bringing the Ark up to Jerusalem. When David made Jerusalem his capital, the Ark was in a place called Kiriath-Jearim, about nine miles away, in the hill-country of Judah. Returning victorious from a battle with the Philistines, David went with thirty-thousand men to retrieve the Ark. When the oxen pulling the cart stumbled, however, a man named Uzzah put forth his hand to steady the Ark and was immediately struck dead for daring to touch it. In great fear, David exclaimed, “How can the Ark of the Lord come to me?” So, David took the Ark aside to the house of a man called Obed-Edom; and there it remained three months.

When David learned that, contrary to all expectations, Obed-Edom’s household was greatly blessed by the Ark’s presence, he went again and brought the Ark up to Jerusalem with great rejoicing, shouting, merrymaking, singing, and dancing. And, bringing the Ark into the city, David leaped and danced before the Lord with all his might.

Now, fast-forward about a thousand years to the beginning of the New Testament. When the angel Gabriel appears to Mary in Nazareth and announces that she will give birth to the Messiah, her natural question is, “How shall this be, since I have no husband?” The angel answers: “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most-High will overshadow you; therefore, the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God.” “Overshadow” is exactly the same verb used to describe the cloud of the divine presence covering the Tent of Meeting when the Lord came down from heaven.

Then, in the Visitation story, the parallels multiply. The setting is once again the hill-country of Judah, where the Ark once resided. At Mary’s greeting, Elizabeth exclaims with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women! And blessed is the fruit of your womb!” This is the sole occurrence in the New Testament of the Greek verb here translated as “exclaim” (anaphoneo) – but in the Greek version of the Old Testament, this same verb is used of David’s shouting out in joy before the Ark on the way up to Jerusalem. Elizabeth’s question, “And why is this granted me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?” is almost a direct quote of David’s “How can the Ark of the Lord come to me?”

The unborn John the Baptist leaping in his mother’s womb replays David leaping and dancing before the Lord with all his might. Mary’s three-month sojourn at the house of Elizabeth recalls the Ark’s three-month stay at the house of Obed-Edom. Finally, just as the Ark goes up to Jerusalem, and ends up in Solomon’s Temple, so, forty days after the Nativity, Mary goes with Joseph up to Jerusalem to present Jesus in the Temple of the Lord.

In all these ways, Luke indicates that the Blessed Virgin Mary is the Ark of a New Covenant. Just as the Ark carried within it the tablets of the Law, the Word of God inscribed on stone, so Mary carries in her womb the Word-made-flesh. Just as the Ark carried a jar of manna, the miraculous bread from heaven, which fed the Israelites in the wilderness, so Mary carries within her womb the true Bread from heaven, who feeds us in the Holy Eucharist with his own Body and Blood. And just as the Ark held the rod, which confirmed Aaron’s high priesthood, so Mary carries in her womb the true high priest, the final mediator between God and humanity.

The point is not that Mary “is like” the Ark of the Covenant. That is to get things the wrong way ’round. Rather, the Ark was like Mary. That’s how biblical typology works. Although it had its own meaning and significance in its own time, the Ark nonetheless pointed beyond itself to the Mother of God, and the One she brought into the world. Like so many other features of Old Testament religion, the Ark was a type and shadow of the infinitely greater things to come.

The message for us today is, I think, very simple. God’s coming among us is cause for great rejoicing. Who are we that the Son of God should come to us? At the presence of the Lord, David leaped and danced before the Lord with all his might. John the Baptist leaped for joy in his mother’s womb. At our Christmas services beginning tomorrow evening, the Church invites us to join the celebration. Let us go out to greet Him.

Carl Heinrich Bloch, The Shepherds and the Angel, 1879
Frederiksborg Castle, Denmark

CHRISTMAS 2018

At the Solemn Mass of the Nativity
Monday 24 December, 10:30 pm

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom he is pleased! (Luke 2:14)

This year, it's occurred to me that for the shepherds in the Christmas story, the most memorable event in the night’s proceedings was most likely not their visit to Jesus, Mary, and Joseph in Bethlehem, but rather the prior appearance of the angel announcing the birth of the Savior, and then the sky filled with the multitude of the heavenly host praising God. The swaddled newborn in the manger was the sign confirming the truth of the angelic announcement. The gift of new life is always beautiful, to be sure. But an infant in the company of his parents was something the shepherds had probably all seen before, in a variety of times, places, and circumstances.

The angelic appearance was, however, awesome and even terrifying: as Luke tells us, the shepherds were “filled with fear.” It’s not for nothing that the first words an angel usually speaks after appearing to human beings are “Fear not!” or “Do not be afraid!”

The Bible depicts angels as fulfilling three principal functions: they serve as messengers from God to human beings; they protect and defend God’s people on earth, and they worship and praise God in heaven. In the Nativity story the angels play the first and third of these roles. First, the lone angel delivers to the shepherds the good news of the Messiah’s birth. Then, the shepherds are granted a glimpse into heaven itself where the angelic host worships God with the song of praise: “Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth among men with whom he is pleased.”

Glory to God in the highest. The phrase “in the highest” signifies heaven, the place of God’s dwelling. And peace on earth among men. The angels proclaim that just as Christ’s birth brings God glory in heaven, so it brings peace to human beings on earth. Specifically: peace among men with whom he is pleased. This last phrase presents a bit of a translation problem. Sometimes it’s rendered as “goodwill towards men,” or “to men of goodwill.” Each of these translations is defensible. Nonetheless the basic parallelism of the angelic proclamation is clear: The birth of Christ brings glory to God in heaven, and peace to human beings on earth.

But what does “peace on earth” mean? Some commentators suggest that having mentioned Caesar Augustus, the Gospel-writer Luke is taking a subtle dig at the Pax Romana, the peace of Rome. Augustus was often praised for having brought peace on earth; and, indeed, his reign was marked by unprecedented political tranquility maintained by force of Roman arms. So, perhaps the suggestion here is that it’s Christ, not Caesar nor any other earthly ruler, who brings true peace on earth.

But then the question presents itself all the more insistently: What kind of peace does Christ bring? For clearly, the world’s history in the two millennia since Christ’s birth has not been marked by what we usually think of as peace. On the contrary, it’s been a sad chronicle of conflict, war, revolution, massacre, and genocide. If God’s reign of justice, love, and peace is real - and the Church teaches that it is - its time is not yet but still in the future.

Nevertheless, the New Testament uses the word “peace” 92 times: most often to describe a reality and gift of God that’s available to us here and now. When the risen Jesus appears to his disciples, he says, “Peace be with you.” The authors of the New Testament epistles often begin and end their letters to the churches with such greetings as “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.” From the earliest days, the Church’s liturgy has included the ritual greeting “The peace of the Lord be always with you.” Then the response: “And with your spirit.”

The English word “peace” translates the Latin pax, and the Greek eirene, all of which hark back to the Hebrew shalom. It’s often pointed out that shalom signifies far more than just the absence of active hostilities or a state of armed truce – which is what usually passes for peace in our world. Instead, shalom implies wholeness, well-being, flourishing, reconciliation, forgiveness, unity, and harmony. All this is signified when the angels proclaim peace on earth, or when in church we greet one another with a sign of peace.

It seems to me that the peace that Christ brings has three dimensions: peace with God; peace with one another; and peace within ourselves. Peace with God comes first. In the biblical understanding, the basic human predicament is that we’re not at peace with God. Collectively, humanity has rebelled against God; we’ve attempted to put ourselves in God’s place. Our first and greatest need, therefore, is the forgiveness and reconciliation with God that Christ came into the world to bring us. That peace can be ours when we repent of our sins and ask God to forgive us by the merits of his Son’s death and resurrection.

Then comes peace with one another. As our Lord says in the Sermon on the Mount, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.” Just as Christ has reconciled us with God, so we’re under a positive obligation to seek reconciliation with one another. Nothing is more soul-destroying to any of us than harboring resentments and bearing grudges for wrongs, injuries, and injustices received. So, if we have anything against anyone, or if anyone has anything against us, we need to pray for that person, and pray for the grace to forgive. It may be humanly impossible, but all things are possible with God. An indispensable component of the peace for which Christ was born in Bethlehem is the presence on earth of a Church whose members are called to work tirelessly for reconciliation and peace among human beings.

Last but not least is peace within ourselves: “the peace of God, which passes all understanding.” In what seems a curious contradiction of the angels’ proclamation, later in Saint Luke’s Gospel Jesus says: “Do you think that I have come to bring peace on earth? No I tell you, but rather division …” He goes on to foretell the sufferings that his disciples will undergo on his account, including persecution even from their closest family members. Still, it’s the peace within, the peace that Christ gives in our hearts, that enables us to withstand all turmoil, conflict, and persecution without.

“And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom he is pleased.’” The peace on earth that Christ’s birth in Bethlehem brings us consists of peace with God, peace with one another, and peace within ourselves—even while peace remains conspicuously lacking in the world around us. As one of my favorite hymns puts it: “The peace of God, it is no peace, but strife closed in the sod; Yet let us pray for but one thing: the marvelous peace of God.”