An Advent Reflection: History is not about the Politics of Power

The angel Gabriel’s promise to the virgin Mary in Luke 1 is not the first time in the Bible that a frightened or incredulous woman hears such unlikely words. There is a thread of similar divine announcements throughout the story God’s covenant relationship with Israel.

They begin at the very beginning of that story. Old age pensioners, Sarah and Abraham, are told they will have a son. Sarah’s reaction is laughter at such impossible nonsense. Yet conceive and give birth she does and she calls her son Isaac (laughter). God’s covenant promise of blessing to Abraham that he will be a father of many nations comes into life with the birth of that baby boy (Gen 17:5).

In Exodus, another baby plays a redeeming role in Israel’s history. While not a miraculous conception, the story of Moses, a child of slaves, being rescued from death is a tale of God keeping his promise of blessing to Israel through a helpless and crying baby (Ex. 2:1-10). That little child would become the deliverer of the people of God from the might of Egyptian empire.

During the period of the Judges, a barren, unnamed woman only known as the wife of Manoah, is told by an angel of God,

‘Behold, you shall conceive and bear a son.’

The Spirit of God would be upon him and he would help deliver Israel from the Philistines. His name was Samson (Judges 13:1-25).

Later comes the story of Hannah, who is heartbroken with grief at her inability to have children by her husband who loves her. She pours out her heart in prayer at the temple and her request is granted by God. She names her son Samuel (heard of God). And so the age of prophets in Israel begins (1 Sam. 1:1-20).

During the darkest period of Israel’s history – exile in Babylon – it is the prophet Isaiah who speaks words of hope. Israel may now be like a barren woman enclosed within the confines of a small tent, but one day that desolation will be transformed. The tent will be enlarged for a growing family. There will be prosperity and life bursting forth in all directions. God’s promise to Abraham is not forgotten.

“Sing, O barren one, who did not bear;
break forth into singing and cry aloud,
you who have not been in labour!
For the children of  the desolate one will be more
than the children of her who is married,” says the  Lord.
“Enlarge the place of your tent,
and let the curtains of your habitations be stretched out;
do not hold back; lengthen your cords
and strengthen your stakes.
For you will spread abroad to the right and to the left,
and your offspring will possess the nations
and will people the desolate cities.  (Isaiah 54:1-3)

Centuries later, the angel Gabriel appears to Zechariah in the Temple speaking words about his wife, Elizabeth conceiving and giving birth to a son who will be called John. Despite being too old, what he says happens. Elizabeth speaks to herself, ‘The Lord has done this for me,’ she said (Luke 1:5-23). John’s exalted task is to ‘make ready a people prepared for the Lord’.

And so, finally, we come to the consummation of that first promise to Abraham. The angel Gabriel appears to a young virgin girl called Mary, Elizabeth’s cousin. She is told

You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus.

This baby is the child of promise, the deliverer of Israel, her long-hoped for Messiah.

She sees more clearly than anyone else, the significance of the angel’s words. She understands that she stands in line with Sarah, Moses’s mother, the wife of Manoah, Hannah, Isaiah’s prophecies and Elizabeth.

But more than this, she perceives that she is most highly favoured of all these women (Luke 1:28). The Lord is with her. Her son will be Israel’s saviour and king (Luke 1:31-33), the Son of God (1:35). The power of God’s Spirit will make all this possible, ‘For no word from God will ever fail’ (Luke 1:37)

Mary’s great act of faith is to believe the angel’s words

‘I am the Lord’s servant,’ Mary answered. ‘May your word to me be fulfilled.’ (Luke 1:38)

In her song of thanksgiving (the Magnificat of 1:46-55), Mary locates her own experience within the story God’s promise of blessing to Israel. Her rejoicing flows from wonder that she has been chosen by God to play the pivotal role.

‘My soul glorifies the Lord
and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour (46-47)

His being ‘mindful of the humble state of his servant’ (1:48) reveals God’s mercy.

His mercy extends to those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones  (50-52a)

God is all powerful. But Mary’s point is not so much political as it is one of worship. The paradox is that God’s limitless power takes the form of gracious kindness to the powerless (Israel, Mary, all the powerless women listed above)

And this choosing of the humble includes Israel herself.

‘He has helped his servant Israel,
remembering to be merciful
to Abraham and his descendants for ever,
just as he promised our ancestors.’ (54-55)

As with the story of Moses, even mighty Empires cannot resist the covenant-keeping promises of God.

Things will be no different with the birth of Mary’s boy. His mother is supremely confident that, whatever opposition from proud and arrogant rulers who seem to hold all the power, God’s promise of blessing to the nations will not be thwarted.

Mary’s story tells us that history revolves around the fulfilled promise of a miraculous birth. It is a story of promise and hope.

So as we celebrate this Christmas, Mary’s Magnificat reminds us that our faith is embedded within the story of Israel. The birth of the Messiah is God’s answered promise to Abraham embodied in the fragile form of a baby boy.

It also tells us that history is not about power politics. In a news-cycle dominated daily by Brexit and Trump, it is easy to become obsessed with the latest political drama and, subconsciously, to believe that this is where ultimate meaning lies.

And in doing so we begin to lose hope and trust. Not just because Brexit is a shambles and Trump is, shall we say, erratic and unpredictable. But because all political promises fail, all Empires fall.

Yes, faith is worked out within the context of Empire (just read Luke 1-2), but that Empire is irrelevant and powerless in the face of God’s promise.

Ben Myers, whose words have stirred this reflection, says this,

‘Pregnancy and childbirth are the means by which God’s promise makes its way through the crooked course of history’ (p. 53) …

‘The meaning of history is not power and empire, but promise and trust. The secret of history is revealed when a woman, insignificant to the eyes of the world, responds in joy to God’s promise and bears that promise into the world in her own body’ (p. 54, The Apostle’s Creed).

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A tale of two Christmases (1) A Victorian Christmas

What words and associations come to mind with this picture I wonder?

ChristmasIt’s the cat I like most. A picture of utter relaxation and comfort; laid out infront of the cosy fire, truly at home. The surrounding presents, well decorated tree, and expectant santa socks all speak of secure family domesticity.

All is well in this picture.

The image captures for me our culture’s ideal of Christmas. Centered on the home, Christmas is a time for rest, relaxation, but most of all it’s a domestic festival centered on the family. It’s a time to retreat to the home castle, shut out the world, and enjoy the company of our nearest and dearest.

Of course this works perfectly well for many. But it isn’t such an attractive proposition if you don’t happen to have a family, or are far from home, or if the idea of spending several days in uninterrupted company with your closest relatives fills you with dread!

Here’s another image – this time of the first Christmas card, send in 1843.

1st Christmas cardHere is the Victorian ideal that continues to shape contemporary notions  of Christmas. A large prosperous family enjoying seasonal fare in their own contented company. The side panels speak of an awareness that such blessing should not be taken for granted. Christmas happiness should be shared with those less fortunate – so the acts of charity to those who do not belong in the centre panel.

And a third image of a great movie – the Muppet Christmas Carol with Michael Caine.

Muppet Christmas Carol Dickens’  morality tale encapsulates Victorian idealism around Christmas. Scrooge’s heart is turned from stone to flesh so that he, the ruthless businessman, would see that Christmas is all about charity, compassion and care for others in need. There is more to life than capital. And it is in turning to look outward rather than selfishly inward that Scrooge is saved from himself.

I love this story – but as Clint Eastwood never said, ‘a story has gotta know its limitations’. The Victorian ideal has much truth and value in it. Christmas can be a fine time to enjoy family, domesticity and to retreat for while from the incessant clamour of work.

It is a good thing at the same time to think of others in need and give generously. And the enduring influence the Victorian Christmas is seen in how Christmas is a time to give to charities or do charitable things – like make up a shoebox of goodies for children in the developing world.

But this Victorian tale of a domestic Christmas is, on its own, a severely limited one. It is comfortable with the status quo for one thing. Yes Scrooge is moved to pay a fair wage, but the question of whether there are unjust social and political structures trapping Bob Cratchit in a vicious cycle of poverty isn’t addressed.

OK, those needing charity are helped – but in a one-off paternalistic sort of way that does not filter through to consistent long-term action to help people help themselves. The poor and unfortunate remain on the side panels of the Christmas card – they aren’t about to get invited in to join the private family feast going on in the middle.

We need another Christmas tale, beyond an idealised, stifling and claustrophobic domesticity.

The radical Dr Luke provides one (next post).[1]

Comments, as ever, welcome.

[1] With thanks for the idea of two Christmas tales to Steve Holmes, The Politics of Christmas. London: Theos, 2011