Sermon: Protest Songs

          The most interesting thing about musicals is how the author fits the song into the situation on stage.  Unless you hang around with musical people – who are, let's face it, likely to break out into song at the drop of a hat – you're not quite used to songs just happening in regular conversation.  However, something to notice about so much of the New Testament is how much singing Old Testament hymns happens.

          The Psalms were sung.  Prophecies like those of Elisabeth and Mary in today's Gospel were sung.  Lamentations and prayers were often sung.  Song was a regular part of life, expressing joy, sadness, complaint and protest.  The interesting part about the Magnificat, so wonderfully sung by Kris this morning, is that it is not just an expression of joy and worship.  It was a protest song, threatening the status quo, challenging the societal mores that would ostracize Mary for being unmarried and pregnant, and Elisabeth for not getting pregnant until well past the time she should have been able to. 

          Elisabeth, being filled with the Holy Spirit, declares Mary blessed.  She declares the child Mary carried as blessed, and not illegitimate. 

          Mary, a teenager from Galilee – and what good can come out of Galilee – stands in the entryway of Elisabeth's house, and responds to that declaration, with some really bold statements.  "My soul magnifies the Lord"  When the Angel Gabriel came, Mary didn't just submit to the will of God, she consented to being the mother of the child God would give her.  She could have said no, but instead, she sang, "My spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for He has looked with favor on the lowliness of His servant."  And here, Mary may have been speaking for herself, but this song makes it clear that through Christ, she was singing about God's love for everyone who's been put down. Abandoned. Shamed. Abused. Pushed out. Bullied. Oppressed. Enslaved. Trafficked. Scapegoated. Denied justice. Whose dreams have been deferred. Who haven't been given an opportunity to have an opportunity.

          God has looked upon all these people who have been denied the fullness of life, throughout the fullness of time, (p) and favored them, through Mary.

          We may all be tools for God to use when we submit to His will, but that day, Mary went from being a nail to being a power drill.  Her soul would magnify the Lord, and everyone would know about it, and call her blessed.

          As a result of God's love, social mores were turned on their ears.  "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."  I'm not sure that there's a clearer protest against societal thinking – but with this song, it is clear that Christ is coming to change the world.

          Now, most people over time have looked at this song as belonging particularly to Mary.  But remember what I said at the beginning – songs were all through the Old Testament.  Mary's words repeated or rephrased several passages from the Old Testament, as protests and God's judgment were sung:

**My heart exults in the Lord; my strength is exalted in my God . . . The Lord makes poor and makes rich; he brings low, he also exalts. He raises up the poor from the dust; he lifts the needy from the ash heap, to make them sit with princes and inherit a seat of honor." (1 Sam. 2)

**"But the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him." (Psalm 103.17).

          The Magnificat, itself, was banned in three countries at different points in history, for being dangerous and radical.  Imperial Britain, home of the Church of England itself, banned the singing of the Magnificat in Indian churches.  And in the 1980s, the military governments of Guatemala and Argentina, typically Catholic countries, wouldn't even let the words to Mary's song be displayed on signs.

          Last night, we watched a movie about the Christmas song of Silent Night.  It was a dramatization of a true story that happened in 1914, the first year of the War to End All Wars.  Just imagine how different our world might be if the singing of that song had ended the war right then.  But, sometimes just humming a Christmas song taught to you by a stranger in another army can be a protest and reminder to each of us that we are sons and daughters of God.  Through that, people can remember the gift that God gave us, (p) who changed the world.

          There's a new "protest" song that just came out – one that protests the focus of Christmas on commercialism.  It's a song by Darius Rucker called "I Wonder What God Wants for Christmas."  The center of the song says:  "What do you give someone Who gave His only Son?  What if we believe in Him, Like He believes in us?"

          As Meister Eckhart once said:

What good is it to me if this eternal birth of the divine Son takes place unceasingly, but does not take place within myself? And, what good is it to me if Mary is full of grace if I am not also full of grace? What good is it to me for the Creator to give birth to his Son if I do not also give birth to him in my time and my culture? This, then, is the fullness of time: When the Son of Man is begotten in us.

          As an Advent people, we are all helping to birth the changes Christ brought.  Like the people in Micah, we are waiting for the birth of the Lord.  And even as we wait in hope for both the celebration of His birth, and of His coming again, we have to prepare society.  We have to make this a place of justice, and maybe that means we need to sing these "protest" songs a bit more often, realizing that we're not just singing a song, but we're putting our hearts into the change Christ asked for – that we love God, and we love our neighbors as ourselves.  Might this not be what God wants for Christmas?