Dearest friends,

Like many of you likely do, I have some complex and conflicting feelings about the Christmas season. These feelings have been around since my journey as a spiritual seeker began in my teenage years. At times, I’m not afraid to admit that I’ve been grinchy enough to turn even the most cheerful celebrant’s eggnog sour with a well-placed sneer and snarky rant about the senseless commercialism of it all. Also, it’s true that culturally, this time of year, we are bombarded with calls to drop stacks of our hard-earned cash on the latest gadgets and swag galore. I’ve experienced this holiday in several different ways over the years. As a child, I spent the holidays caught up in the wonder of it all until, after a lesson on fact vs. fiction in the 1st grade around Christmastime (poor timing on the teachers’ part), I concluded that there was no way a reindeer could fly. As a teenager, I spent several holidays telling my mom to donate to an organization fighting child abuse and neglect for my gift because I thought Christmas was too wrapped up in capitalism. I got a nice handmade “thank you” ornament in return, which was lovely. I’ve experienced the holidays in jails and prisons; I’ve lived it on the streets, trying to score drugs and watching people go shopping with gauzy, distant eyes. I’ve also experienced the pressure as a parent, feeling that my partner and I didn’t do “enough” for our kiddos. I’ve also enjoyed the time spent with family making memories and watching the kids’ eyes light up with that “joy and wonder” of a season that comes with so much imagination- with sparkling lights, dancing nutcrackers, and a certain jolly chimney-hopping, reindeer-towed, globe-trotting elf. It’s been a wild mix.   

In recent years, I’ve developed a new appreciation and different perspective for this time of year, particularly during the Advent season, which we just celebrated the 2^nd Sunday of this past week. This change began in seminary during a Christian Scriptures course focused on the Synoptic Gospels (which include Matthew, Mark, and Luke, and are so named because they contain many of the same stories and can be “seen together”). During this course, I fell in love with the Book of Luke, in which the author, who may or may or may not have been named Luke (that’s a whole ‘nother blog post!), shows a particular concern for the poor and the oppressed. In Luke, there lies one of my favorite passages in the Christian scriptures, The Magnificat, or the Song of Mary in Luke 1: 46-55. I’ll quote it here (from the New Revised Standard Version):

“⁴⁶ And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord, ⁴⁷ and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, ⁴⁸ for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; ⁴⁹ for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.   ⁵⁰ His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. ⁵¹ He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.⁵² He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; ⁵³ he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.⁵⁴ He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, ⁵⁵ according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

Now there is a lot going on in this text and I wish I had the space to engage with all of it, but basically, to quote a shirt I often wear, G*d “Lifts up the lowly, brings down the mighty, fills up the hungry, sends the rich away,”. Now, not only is this the longest section of text spoken by any female (presumably- Mary could’ve been trans or nonbinary!) in the Christian Scriptures, this text alludes to the promise the liberation that the Jews had been waiting for in the form of a long-promised and prophesied messiah or “God-king” who would free them from Roman occupation and lead them to the freedom that was no-doubt near. For us today, it might represent the promise of hope for salvation, for renewal, for liberation, that all the forces of oppression and evil can in fact be overcome. For me, the Magnificat is nothing less than a call for revolution, for liberation, for what we would name Beloved Community, where everyone has a place, where dignity and worth are affirmed, where oppressions are acknowledged, named, and Empire, in all its forms, is overcome. 

Sister Elizabeth Johnson says of this text, “The Magnificat is a revolutionary song of salvation whose political, economic, and social dimensions cannot be blunted. People in need in every society hear a blessing in this canticle. The battered woman, the single parent without resources, those without food on the table or without even a table, the homeless family, the young abandoned to their own devices, the old who are discarded: all are encompassed in the hope Mary proclaims.” Additionally, this piece held such revolutionary hope that it was at one time banned from being sung or read in India under British Imperial rule. It was banned in Guatemala during political upheaval in the 1980’s, and in Argentina in the 1970’s during the right-wing military junta that overthrew Isabel Perón, the group Las Madres de la Plaza de Mayo whose children all disappeared during the so-called “Dirty War” displayed the text on posters in public areas including the Capital Plaza in Buenos Aires, leading to the Magnificat being banned there in Argentina as well. Empires don’t too much like words about “pulling down the mighty” and “lifting up the lowly” and such.

This text, and other writings in Luke and in the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures remind me that there is room to hope, room for growth, and that there has always been something more to this season. And during this Advent season particularly, I find this text to be both promising and challenging- it calls us to do more, give more, to work and be together and love together in different ways, to give birth to a world in which we don’t just pay lip service to worth and dignity, but the lowliest of us is lifted up on high, the hungriest are filled, the most powerful and privileged of us are challenged in that power and privileged, and those most left out of our circles have a place prepared for them as though our spaces were created for them all along. It calls for radical change, for radical peace, for radical love. It is a message that sounds out in the streets, in the jail holding cells, in prison kitchens, in the houseless shelters and camps, in the migrant detention centers, in the welfare offices, in trap houses, in the hospitals, in the food pantry lines, in fast food kitchens, in the unseen and so-often-seen-it-becomes-commonplace suffering of those left out and left behind. It also sounds out as a challenge in places of privilege- the country clubs and elite colleges and universities, in corporate board rooms, in meetings of dignitaries and diplomats the world over.  

As the lights shine bright this season, I encourage you to lean into your own luminescence, and sit with your own shadows. We must do both. But all the while, lean into hope, lean into courage, and lean into change, and above all, believe in the promise of that highest Love that calls us to our highest selves. Even if you sometimes sneer at the idea of Christmas, or like me you’ve soured another’s eggnog or two, you can always choose to believe in the power of love, liberation, and community, and maybe even that “the powerful can be brought down from their thrones”. (We put them there, after all!). As for gifts- what are we willing to gift to others- or give up from ourselves- to realize such a world? Are we ready for such a change? If not, what will it take? And if not now, as they say, when?

These days, dear friends, this holiday for me is less about reindeer, and more about revolution.

It’s a blessing, always, to travel this path with all of you.

In faith and solidarity this Advent Season,

Eli Poore

Intern Minister