December 8, 2024
The second verse of our Advent Candle Lighting Hymn concludes with the words, “Our guns and our weapons, our hatred and war, will give way to gardens that heal and restore.” [Carolyn Winfrey Gillette, “The Candle of Hope,” 2015] The author, Carolyn Winfrey Gillette is echoing a well-known prophecy of Isaiah: “[The Lord] shall judge between the nations and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation; neither shall they learn war any more.” [Isaiah 2.4]
In our Advent study, Erin Wathen describes a creative ministry called “Guns to Gardens,” which, inspired by this vision of Isaiah, is seeking to address gun violence in Louisville, KY. According to the group’s website, “The name Guns to Gardens reflects our goal of moving our community from a gun culture to a life-giving culture, through activities that nurture peace and growth instead of violence.” [https://www.guns2gardenslouisville.org/our-story.html] The group’s signature activity is a twice annual collection of unwanted guns. Volunteers drawn from a dozen local churches host events at which people can safely and freely turn in their guns. The weapons are then dismantled using chop saws. At this point, Craig Kaviar steps in. A talented blacksmith, Craig reforges the dismantled guns into art work, jewelry, and, of course, garden tools. The group knows its efforts are limited in their effect—they can’t possibly get every gun off the streets—but the guns they collect can’t accidentally end up in the hands of an innocent toddler, a misguided teenager, a depressed adult, or someone who is so angry they can’t think straight. More than that, turning guns into garden hoes bears witness to Isaiah’s prophecy before an entire city. It is a concrete embodiment of God’s vision of a new, transformed, peaceful future for humanity, and thus a light of hope shining in the darkness of our violence, pointing us to another way, to different and better possibilities. [Wathen, p. 44 and Alex Dederer, “'Guns to Gardens' transforms old weapons into yard tools,” Nov. 10, 2024, https://www.whas11.com/article/news/local/gun-safe-surrender-event-breaths-new-life-into-weapons-guns-to-gardens-smoketown/417-d0d01c25-aa62-4c9b-9fea-7d7e42a9b0f8]
Mary also points us to the world as it could be—as it should be. Her song of praise, the Magnificat, speaks of a world overturned by God, a world where the outcasts find welcome, the hungry are fed and the humble—the poor and the lowly of the world—are lifted up to equality with the powerful. This song is Good News. Mary is rejoicing in God’s favor toward her in spite of her lowliness, her poverty and lack of status. She is rejoicing in the salvation of God’s downtrodden, subjugated people. She rejoices because God cares, because God acts out of love, because God saves, uplifts and, to establish justice, God overturns and rearranges. This is not just some future hope. Mary declares that it is happening even now, in her own life and in the life of Elizabeth, her cousin.
It’s an enticing vision for many people in this world of violence and injustice, the type of vision that gives people hope and courage—but it is not hopeful or enticing for everyone. Not everyone thinks its Good News. Thomas Merton once observed, “The peace that the world pretends to desire is really no peace at all” [New Seeds of Contemplation, p. 122]—it is instead the preservation of an advantageous status quo, or the establishment of my rights, or the fulfilling of my desires, with little or no concern for others. As Martin Luther King, Jr. reminded us in his “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” we are often “more devoted to ‘order’ than to justice; [we prefer] a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice.” [quoted by Wathen, p. 42] Despite all our protestations to the contrary, despite all the songs we sing, we often don’t really want to hear of peace, much less see it established, because true peace is not only the absence of violence, but also the presence of justice, the establishment of right relations between people. Peace is dynamic; it is life-giving and community-building. It is transformative.
Perhaps that is why the Magnificat, Mary’s song of praise, has often been rejected—because it speaks of the establishment of God’s justice, a justice that overturns the established order of things, bringing “down the powerful from their thrones, and lift[ing] up the lowly; 53 …fill[ing] the hungry with good things, and sen[ding] the rich away empty.”
This is such a disturbing, world-altering vision, that the powerful have often tried to silence or hide it. When Martin Luther was translating the New Testament into German, he left Mary’s song in Latin—which the average person could not read—because the German princes disliked its imagery. Thomas Cramner did the same in his English language prayer book for the same reason: the royals in England objected to Mary’s words. [Robert Dannals, “Advent 4: Can They Hear Us Singing?”, in Butler, A Preacher’s Guide to Lectionary Sermon Series, p. 172] Later, the British banned it’s use in churches in India because they feared it might undermine their colonial rule. More recently, in Argentina, during the “Dirty War” of the 1970s and ‘80s, when the government was kidnapping, imprisoning and killing “opponents,” mothers of the disappeared persons plastered posters of Mary’s song in the capital plaza. The government responded by prohibiting any public display of those words. [Debie Thomas, “A Visit and a Song,” Posted 16 December 2018, https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/2034-a-visit-and-a-song]
The Magnificat is profoundly political; it is partisan, not for a party or a nation, but in favor of the lowly, the poor, the outcast. If we really listen to Mary’s words, it just might offend our sensibilities and make us squirm uncomfortably. But those words might also open our eyes to a new way of seeing the world and a new way of acting in the world.
This is another reason Mary’s song is Good News. Her words help to set the agenda for the Gospel as related by Luke. Her vision of God’s work, deeply influenced by the prophets’ visions of God’s coming peaceful Kingdom, sets the stage for Jesus’ words and deeds. Her son’s ministry is an embodiment of many of the themes of the Magnificat. Years later, in their hometown of Nazareth, Mary’s son Jesus will preach an inaugural sermon, declaring that he has been called to preach good news to the poor, release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind and deliverance to the oppressed. [Luke 4.16-19] He will tell parables about finding the lost. He will hang out with all the wrong people: sinners, tax collectors, prostitutes. He will count women among his followers and some of them will bankroll his ministry. [Luke 8.1-3] And he will host meals, meals where everyone is welcome, teaching what the Kingdom of God is like by enacting the will of God through open table fellowship. [Cynthia Campbell, Christmas in Four Gospel Homes: An Advent Study, p. 33] This should come as no surprise if we have listened carefully to Mary’s song, for, as Erin Wathen points out, “Mary sounds like a woman who will raise a son…. who will insist that people stop throwing stones, and intercede for children, who will preach up such a storm about bringing hope to the poor and justice to the oppressed that people might just get uncomfortable enough…to want to kill him.” [Wathen, 41]
We don’t know many details of Mary’s life beyond the story of her son’s birth and her presence at his death, but surely we can see a little of her influence in the way Jesus lives, a little of her courage, her strength, and her faith. Both her actions and the Magnificat are testimony to her belief that God is at work seeking to make all things new and that God is faithful and never abandons God’s people, come what may.
This faith in God’s abounding goodness and unceasing, steadfast love explains why she says yes, why she declares, in response to the angel’s shocking words, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” [Luke 1.37] She believes Gabriel’s declaration that the Lord is with her, that somehow, inexplicably, by Divine grace she has found favor with God. The presence of the angel and the words he speaks are an assurance of this favor and a promise of God’s continuing help and presence. Thus, she is filled with the courage to answer God’s call, to risk becoming an unwed mother, not knowing how Joseph or her family, much less her neighbors will react; trusting that God will help her weather the stigma, the whispers, the potential rejection. Though she has legitimate cause for fear, Mary rejoices because she believes that the words of Isaiah and the prophets, God’s promises, the coming of God’s peace and love are all about to be fulfilled in and through her life. And so, she sets aside fear and sings a bold and courageous song that challenges the powers that be, a song of hope that shines God’s light into the darkness and transforms the world, a song that kindles in its listeners the courage to join in God’s work, just as she has, and challenge the powers with the justice and love of God.
Robert Dannals relates a story told by a Lutheran pastor who was a child in Nazi occupied Austria during WWII. One Christmas Eve, with his father away in the army, his mother gathered all eight children and began to read them Luke’s account of how Mary gave birth to Jesus. As they read, they could hear, out in the darkness below their windows, the sound of soldiers walking about enforcing curfew.
When, she finished reading, one of the girls asked, “Mama, aren’t we going to sing?” Now, the curfew included a ban on religious celebrations. But their mother hesitated only a moment. “Of course we are,” she said. “Tonight, we celebrate the coming of the Christ child into our world.” And so, she went to the piano and lead her children in singing “Joy to the World.” As the song ended, the sound of footsteps could be heard on the stairs. The mother knew it was the soldiers, but she immediately began “Hark! the Herald Angels Sing.” The soldiers banged on the door. The oldest child went to open the door as the others sang, joy and anxiety mingling in their voices. But to their surprise, the soldiers didn’t order them to stop. They joined in the joyful song! Those men of war were reminded by songs of joy and hope what night it was. If only for a moment, they were called to celebrate the miracle of God’s peace and love and to ponder the possibility of a different reality. [Dannals, “Can They Hear Us Singing?” Lectionary Sermon Series, p. 173]
We, as followers of Mary’s son Jesus, are called to sing her song. We are called to rejoice in God’s goodness, God’s love and God’s care for the vulnerable and lowly. We are called to declare the Good News of God’s saving grace and the inauguration of God’s upside down, topsy-turvy kingdom, the commonwealth of peace and justice. We are called to live out Mary’s song, to sing with our lives and deeds, to walk in the ways of her son, the Prince of Peace and Lord of Love, and make our lives symphonies of Christ’s peace, justice and love.
So, can the world hear us singing? Can they hear us in the trenches of this world, in the places of violence and death? Can they hear us down in the streets in the darkness of fear, down where the light of hope needs to break through? Can they hear us in the halls of power and the palaces of greed, those high places where love and compassion are in such short supply? Can they hear us in the slums and the schools, the marketplaces and the medical centers? Can they hear us singing, singing of justice and hope, of joy and a world transformed? Can they hear us singing of the Prince of Peace, who turns swords into plowshares and guns into garden hoes? This Christmas, may God give us the courage, the faith, the hope and the love to join our voices with Mary’s and boldly sing of God’s salvation and peace.