If you’re looking up places to stay for vacation on Airbnb or the like, there are certain descriptive words that are important to understand. For example: to the novice, an apartment described as “cozy” conjures up images of a warmly decorated living room with a comfortable couch, a soft blanket, a happily crackling fire, with a good book and a steaming cup of tea on the side table. That is not what “cozy” means. “Cozy” means an apartment so small that you can sit on a love seat crushed into the back of the tiny living room and simultaneously stir your Chef-Boyaredee ravioli on the hot plate in the kitchen with one hand while you rummage through your suitcase in the bedroom with your other hand.
“Partial beach view” is another one. It’s not a lie, exactly, 
but it probably involves you leaning so far out of the window or balcony to see it that you really need attach a rope to your belt first, just in case. And while “secluded” conjures up visions of a quaint home nestled in a forest, what it often means is that you need an all-wheel drive to get up the rock “driveway” that climbs a mountain at a 30% grade to the kind of house that might have its own survival bunker and tin foil hats to ward off the mind probes of aliens or government agents.
“Seclusion” often sounds great to us in theory, especially when we’re feeling overwhelmed by the demands of family or work responsibilities, or the onslaught of terrible stories in the news, or the ridiculous arguments and insults between otherwise-rational people on social media. It’s why the word comes up so often in conjunction with vacation destinations, because we tend to view vacations as a way to escape the overwhelming stresses of our regular lives, to shut them out and get away from them and just relax, even for just a few days. We don’t want to be bothered by outside concerns, stresses, responsibilities, or people. “Seclusion” is a goal and a promise to be away from all of that.
It seems like a strange reaction for Elizabeth in this passage, though, at least at first. Luke tells us that after her child was conceived, she remained in seclusion for five months. It’s particularly strange because Elizabeth herself interprets the pregnancy as a blessing from God and a reversal of her social misfortune, in which she had previously felt judged for not having conceived a child, because in that patriarchal society both fertility and infertility were thought to be up to the woman, because of course it could never be an issue with the husband. So you might think that she would go the opposite way of seclusion when she found out she was pregnant, announcing it to everyone and taking a sort of victory lap of social vindication. But instead, she withdraws into seclusion; in fact, the Greek word literally means to cover up or hide entirely, like throwing a veil over your face. Why would she choose seclusion at this time?
Well, as it turns out, nobody agrees about why. Some think that maybe she was just an introverted person and didn’t want to deal with people responding to her pregnancy at such an advanced age. Others think that perhaps she was having physical difficulties, as that is common with pregnancy in general and particularly when the mother is older. Those are both total speculation, though, and without much merit. Still others say that it’s a deliberate and prophetic action in response to God’s work, that she is hiding herself away because God has taken away her the disgrace she felt in the eyes of others for being unable to conceive. That’s pretty far-fetched, given that there’s not even a play on words there to work with. I actually think it’s much simpler than that.
My parents had been trying to have a baby for years before I was born, but without success. It finally got to the point that they accepted that a natural pregnancy was not going to happen for them, and so they entered the adoption process to try and get a baby that way. Month after month went by as they journeyed on the long road for adoption, but finally they received word that they were next on the list to receive a baby. Yet when they finally received word, it was with a bit of trepidation as well as joy.
My mom had been experiencing some puzzling symptoms in her body, you see, to the point that she was worried that she might have cancer, because the symptoms matched up with that, and that would obviously not only be a huge challenge for her, but would also jeopardize their standing to adopt a baby. So she went to the doctor, fearful of what he might say about her condition. “You’re pregnant,” he told her. She was stunned, so stunned that she didn’t believe him.
“No, you’re more than three months pregnant,” he assured her. “Well, I’m not just taking your word for it,” she replied, but eventually she accepted that I was, in fact, a baby instead of a tumor. But my parents had waited so long and had so many previous hopes dashed that they didn’t tell anyone else for a long time. In fact, my mom even “remained in seclusion,” after a fashion, refusing to go anywhere that might place any kind of strain on her body, including giving up an all-expenses-paid trip to Las Vegas to a convention that she and my dad were supposed to attend for his work, because she was afraid that turbulence or any of the other potential challenges of air travel might be too much of a risk.
Now, prenatal tests and care have come a long way since the early 1970s, but the 70s were a paradise of literally unimaginable medical skill and insight compared to the first century Near East. In Elizabeth’s day, there were signs that you were pregnant, of course, but those signs could also mean that you were sick with cancer or some other huge health problem, just like my mom was concerned about. And she would not have had any tests or scans that could prove that she was, in fact, pregnant; she would just have to wait and see what happened, and particularly for what is known as “the quickening,” when the person who is pregnant starts to feel their child moving in the womb. Until then, it seems that Elizabeth decided, she would stay in seclusion, away from the prying eyes and whispered words of her neighbors speculating on her condition, and wait for signs of life.
But seclusion is not all that it is cracked up to be. Human beings are social creatures, not meant to be secluded, cut off, covered up, alone. The research on solitary confinement as a punishment is overwhelming and consistent: most people begin exhibiting signs of mental injury from solitary confinement after just a few days to a week; the United Nations has declared that putting someone in solitary confinement for over 15 days constitutes torture, and is therefore a serious violation of international law.
And while not reaching the level of solitary confinement, Elizabeth is extremely isolated and must have been quite lonely in her seclusion, unable even to talk to her husband, who has been struck mute by the angel Gabriel after being unable to believe the message given to him about his wife becoming miraculously pregnant with a son who will be named John and become a great prophet. All she had to do, day after day, is wonder what’s going on with her husband, and wonder what’s going on with her baby, assuming that is a baby and not, in fact, some kind of terrible condition or disease.
But all of that changes when Mary arrives. Mary, like Eizabeth’s husband Zechariah, has received a visit from the angel Gabriel with mind-blowing news: that she is going to become pregnant from God and bear God’s Son. As Mary struggles to take that in, Gabriel offers her some proof of good faith: “your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son, and this is the sixth month for her.” Upon hearing that, Mary agrees and then, almost as soon as the angel is gone, hastens out the door and makes a beeline for Elizabeth.
Why? Well, are you aware that there is a long history of Presidents of the United States reaching out to their predecessors for advice and support, even when they are from opposing parties and sometimes were even defeated by the sitting President? JFK sought Eisenhower’s counsel during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Bill Clinton sought advice from Richard Nixon on foreign affairs; George W. Bush sought advice from Clinton on a range of topics from time to time; Barack Obama did the same with all the former Presidents still alive during his term, Republican and Democrat alike.
The reason for these unlikely and counter-intuitive connections is simple: nobody else on earth understands the pressures and challenges and complexities of presidential decision-making and leadership the way a former President does. The sitting President wants advice, but perhaps even more than that, they want a connection with one of the only people alive who truly understands what they are going through. That is exactly why Mary headed straight to Elizabeth: because out of everybody on earth, only Elizabeth could understand what Mary is going through. And Elizabeth flung open her door in welcome to Mary for the exact same reason.
But there’s another connection that takes place here, right as Mary and Elizabeth are connecting. “When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting,” Luke tells us, “the child leaped in her womb.” In other words, this was the moment of quickening for Elizabeth’s child, when she felt him move in her womb and knew definitely that the angel’s promise was true: she was, in fact, pregnant with a living child, a child leaping for joy in response to Mary’s own presence and pregnancy, so there is a mutual confirmation that Gabriel’s promises are being fulfilled.
The thing about this story is, it isn’t necessary to the action of the larger plot. Perhaps that’s why only Luke includes it, since Luke is sort of the Extended Edition of the gospels; it’s the kind of scene that gets cut by the other gospels to get more quickly to the big action sequences like feeding the 5000 or, of course, Holy Week. But I think it is necessary, or at least very important, for precisely that reason, at precisely this time. There is a lot of emphasis on “active waiting” during Advent, meaning we do not simply wait on Jesus to come back and redeem the world, but we actively prepare the way by following him and imitating him in lives of loving service.
And that’s a good and faithful response, but it can also so easily slide into the culture of hyper-productivity that is the water in which we swim in 21st century U.S. culture, where our value is in what we accomplish, and being “so busy” is almost a moral virtue. This story reminds us that the greatest story ever told begins, not with a dramatic opening scene, but with two women struggling to understand what is happening to them and building a community between themselves in which they can share stories, articulate hopes and fears, give and receive counsel, and experience understanding and support instead of isolation.
It is an important reminder that Christianity is not first a foremost a set of ideas or texts or practices, but relationships, loving God and one another in community together. So as we continue to journey through Advent, amidst all the lists and activities and anxieties and action, let us remember that we do not journey alone, but in community with one another. Let us look for opportunities to pause, to reach out, to connect, to share, to care for one another as a blessing in and of itself, to feel the love of God quickening in and between our hearts.