On Friday night I officiated a wedding for a Baptist bride and a (nominally) Episcopalian groom. It was a small affair, something like 30, counting me, and it offered an opportunity for some interesting conversation as everyone, EVERYONE, waited for pictures to be finished. One conversation we had surrounded the use of Latin in the church, and I was forced, once again, to admit my low churchmanship and my general aversion to all trappings Roman.
But upon my reading this morning, I remembered that there is at least one historically high church tradition that I hold dear, the Magnificat. The Magnificat is the Song of Mary from Luke's Gospel, and I love it. I think I like it so much because of its distinctive blue collar feel. It is a low, high church tradition. It is the mind-bafflingly beautiful response of a young, like really young, woman who has just been told she will carry the Son of God.
As a good Jew, Mary does not keep the focus on herself, but looks back through Salvation History and knows that the promises of the Angel Gabriel on God's behalf will come true. Its poetry, even in English, is beautiful, and while I can only call her The BVM with my tongue firmly implanted in my cheek, she is, in this moment, surely blessed.