Advent Waiting (Mary's Song) by Lisa Daley

Advent Waiting (Mary's Song)

by Lisa Daley

The New York Times recently invited readers to put  their Thanksgiving gratitudes into six words.  There were entries like “Pandemic baby after years of trying,” “The women who came before me,” and “Democracy triumphed. Now pass the stuffing.”  

That got me wondering, what six words would I use to describe Advent? They would be the same six I would use to describe 2020, “What the f….? Oh, Thank God!” 

Pardon my French, but have you read the Bible or been paying attention to the news? Honestly, would you let someone who impregnates an unwed teen in a culture that stones women for such things watch your kids?  Even if you knew it would all turn out in the end? Um, I love God but what is up with putting Mary through all that shame and suffering? To the shepherds, Jesus' arrival was Good News, but it was every parent of a baby boy under two in the region’s worst nightmare?  Thank God the mighty (narcissists) will be dethroned and the lowly (oppressed) will be lifted up (Luke 1:46-55 aka “Mary’s Song.”)

 I can’t help but wonder if Mary asked, like many of us in 2020, “Can this year get any crazier?” There are some striking similarities in how the headlines might read: Ruthless Paranoid Ruler, known for big building projects, orders hundreds of children cut down.  Expectant mother Isolated from family by royal decree, expectant mother forced to social distance in a manger.  Marginalized teen gives birth amidst widespread miscarriages of justice and collective grief.  

 With the pandemic still raging, people still being murdered by those meant to protect them, pervasive misogyny, gender and racial inequity, how do we “celebrate the holidays?”

How can we make room for joy when we are heavy with sorrow? 

Mary knew something about how to hold good tidings of great joy together with deep sorrow and grief. In a world full of shame and violence toward women, Mary chose to sing.  Her song is both bold and humble, obedient and subversive. It addresses both beauty and ugliness in a way that somehow makes the ugliness beautiful. Nina Simone did this in her song “Strange Fruit.” AOC did this when she confronted the demeaning public slur by an elected official. So have all the people saying “Me too,” and the mothers who continue to Say Her Name. 

            The holidays are often about tradition, many of which I love: decorating, gift giving, special meals, and Gospel readings. But maintaining the status quo is not gospel. The Gospel is about engaging social stigmas, toppling oppressive regimes, getting into good trouble. 2020 has been a year of doing my work, of owning my own misogyny, confronting my own internalized racism and lifting up melanated voices. It has been a year of recognizing deep systemic injustice, longing for change and questioning, “Who are we to be with one another? How are we to be with one another?” Advent is about waiting, gestational waiting. Who are your role models for expectant waiting to birth something long overdue? 

            This Advent season, perhaps it’s time to sing a new song? Let it begin with me.