Advent is known for being a season of joy. It’s easy to find happiness in the birth of a newborn baby, the shining light of angels, and the cute sheep standing next to shepherds with delighted expressions on their faces. But before we can get to the manger scene, the mother of Jesus will face danger as a pregnant unmarried woman in a world that promotes judgment and fear of those who break the norm. Alongside the joyful tone with the coming of Jesus, Advent is perhaps the season that addresses the need for justice the most.
Advent shows us the duality of fighting injustice and feeling joy. Advent has us questioning how we can be happy in a world of human rights abuses. For those of us in the United States, we live in a time when human rights progress seems slow or even to have been sent backwards. What do we do when protests fail to result in new laws that protect the innocent, when boycotts for racial equity see companies doubling down on discriminatory policies, when ICE violence increases across the US, along with the systemic loss of women’s rights, decreased healthcare for veterans, and when resources for the financially disadvantaged get ripped away, among many other injustices? In the cases of protests and other acts of peaceful defiance that seem to have no positive outcome, some people wonder: Would it have been better not to bother getting involved at all? Is the quest for human rights in vain?
Luke 1 offers a measure of solace and resolve as we ask these questions. We turn to this opening chapter to explore the concerns beneath them. Here, Mary sings the Magnificat, her famous song of praise, after learning that she will give birth to God’s Son, a savior of the world. Now she is visiting her cousin Elizabeth. At this point, Mary is a pregnant young woman, likely a teenager. In the eyes of society, she has broken the rules and deserves punishment for pregnancy outside of marriage. As a woman, she has very few rights, living as a second-class citizen. The larger Mary’s belly grows, the more her ‘sin’ of pregnancy out of wedlock will put her at risk of violent attacks. The closer she gets to bearing the child who will save the world, the more likely she is to be killed or harmed before the savior prophecy can be fulfilled. Scholars note that Mary’s visit to Elizabeth is a journey seeking refuge, for she is in great danger in her hometown from any who are aware of her pregnancy.
But when Mary sees Elizabeth, she sings a song of joy. What right does she have to be joyful? She is an outcast. Yet Mary sings of God’s promise to rescue the lowly, poor, and hungry, and to overturn the powerful and proud. She knows that despite all the madness of this mortal world, better days are coming when God will make things right.
Luke 1:46-55 (NRSV)
My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
His mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever.
Today we may wonder: Has the Magnificat’s promise of justice been fulfilled? Will it ever be fulfilled?
We, as Christians, proclaim that God is “a God of reversal.” Whatever actions of peace and justice that are undone by human hands can, and will, be raised up again. Mary sings of the reversal of the high and low, the proud and humble, but not only for past events. Kings will be dethroned, the starving will hunger no more, the rich will lose their prideful attitude and hoarded wealth, and the oppressed will not only be saved but uplifted. Her song is prophetic, echoing the grateful song of the prophet Hannah in 1 Samuel 1:26: “Oh, my lord! As you live, my lord, I am the woman who was standing here in your presence praying to the Lord. For this child I prayed, and the Lord has granted me the petition that I made to him.”
But doesn’t Mary realize how difficult her life will be as the mother of Christ? For soon she will have to flee from her homeland with her husband and son, immigrating to a foreign country to avoid death at the hands of a powerful politician. Assassins will be sent after her newborn baby. Her son will have many enemies who oppose his message of peace. During Mary’s pregnancy she might not know the specific details of the future to come, but I believe she was aware of the danger and risk involved in her role as Jesus’ mother. Even at the moment when she sings the Magnificat, she has begun to experience the danger. But she still sings with joy.
Psalm 146 says “Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord their God.” Easier said than done when it feels like the world is crumbling around us.
It makes me wonder: How do people in desperate situations find strength? They sing. In 2011, Norway experienced a domestic terror attack when an anti-Muslim Christian extremist massacred teenagers associated with the liberal Labour Party. The children were attending a youth camp about political perspectives. More than 70 children, the youngest just thirteen-years-old, were killed and dozens more severely wounded. CNN reports that the shooting was “the deadliest attack in Norway since World War II.” Afterward, thousands of Norwegians gathered in the capital Oslo to sing songs of peace and justice. A survivor of the shooting commented on the singing: “If one man can show so much hate, think how much love we all can show.” Songs inspire. Songs remind us we are human and that we can take a stand. Even now as I write this article, I am listening to a song inspired by the Magnificat, “Canticle of the Turning” by Rory Cooney.
Mary’s song is not only inspirational but also transformative. She knows that the future will be difficult, and although she does not know the details, she trusts God. One day, Mary’s baby boy will be sentenced to death as a criminal and die before her very eyes. The baby boy she received as a gift from God was taken away from her. Was that the end of God’s promise to her? Had it been no use that Mary had raised God’s son if he could not save the world?
The wise fableist Aesop said “No act of kindness…is ever wasted.” One interpretation of this quote raises the idea that kindness could affect someone later even if it is not appreciated in the moment. Kindness is also an act of Christian love that we are called to do, something that is freely given because we have God’s love within us. Similarly, no act of peaceful justice is ever wasted. Standing up to injustice with peaceful resistance shows the oppressor that we cared, and maybe one day the oppressor will remember our act and change their hurtful view. Regardless, the knowledge that we acted out of love and did our best to support the meek and lowly matters because we are called to uphold justice as a Christian duty. As a psalmist implores in Psalm 82:3-4 (NRSV): Give justice to the weak and the orphan; maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked.
Christians in Hong Kong have a profound history of standing up to injustice. In 1989, the Tiananmen Square massacre in Beijing saw the death of hundreds of protestors who were advocating against government corruption, as well as asking for democracy and freedom of speech. My seminary in Hong Kong, Lutheran Theological Seminary, provided refuge for as many protest survivors as they could by obtaining student visas for them. By doing so, some protestors escaped a future of detainment and torture in China. They came to democratic, British-ruled Hong Kong where they could safely start life anew. Another example of Christian acts of justice came after Hong Kong had been handed over to the rule of China’s Communist government in 1999. The Beijing government set forth a plan to gradually shift Hong Kong’s democracy into their Communist legal and justice system. In a brave show of peaceful defiance, the Hong Kong Christian Council and many denominations issued statements denouncing the Beijing government’s plans to rid Hong Kong of its political freedoms.
Years later in 2014, I was living in Hong Kong during the early stages of Beijing’s plans to alter Hong Kong’s political policies. Proposed legislation threatened universal suffrage, decreased the number of legislative members who could represent the people, and required approval for representatives from the Communist Beijing government. In response, a peaceful pro-democracy movement began, initially called Occupy Central, which saw over 100,000 people take to the streets over a period of two and a half months. One of the movement’s founders was Baptist pastor Chu Yiu-ming.
The Sunday after the protests began, in a church I attended, the pastor announced that in light of Occupy Central’s beginning, we would sing “God of this City” by Chris Tomlin. The song is full of inspiring lyrics, including “You’re the God of this city; You’re the King of these people, You’re the Lord of this nation…Greater things have yet to come. Greater things are still to be done in this city.” Like the Magnificat, this song is a pertinent reminder that no matter what country you live in, the true king is God, not the people ruling your nation.
At the Occupy Central protests in Hong Kong, I saw many pastors join the crowds, including my mentors. Unashamed of their act of defiance, the pastors dressed in their ministerial robes and stoles, holding crosses high above their heads. Gigantic crowds that flooded the highways could be heard singing from blocks away. Their songs even included some hymns that were distributed on paper. The movement was later renamed the Umbrella Movement, recalling the umbrellas that protestors used to shield themselves from tear gas. Even after the protests ended, the movement continues underground to this day.
Despair produces despair. Hope produces hope. As the Magnificat says, the world is about to turn. Mary experienced a story of hope we can all learn from. Despite all the sorrow, all the tribulations Mary faced, Jesus rose from the dead…Mary’s son lives!
An anonymous quote says “At the moment when it seems the battle is lost, when even desperate hope has begun to fade away, that is when the tide will change and the flame of justice will ignite.”
The Magnificat is not just Mary’s song, but also our own, a song for all times and places. Mary didn’t give up on the world when she experienced the injustice of society, and neither shall we. To be joyful is to celebrate God’s promises, because Jesus has already declared victory over sin and death. Our song of justice and joy is not over, and it is growing louder day by day.
