Ancestral Heirlooms
Luke 1:39-55
Holy One, God of liminal spaces and teacher of songs, be with us here in this moment. Pause our hearts and open our spirits, that we might hear you even as we await your coming in joy. Amen.
This morning as we mark the third Sunday in Advent, I would like for you to consider with me ancestral heirlooms, gifts that have been passed down to us, songs that have been given us. Ancestral heirlooms, gifts that have been passed down to us, and songs that have been given to us.
I have to admit that I am feeling like I’m swinging from emotion to emotion these days. Last week marked the thirteenth anniversary of my dad’s death. And Friday would have been Joe Bunce’s 73rd birthday. We also keep getting word about another ICE abduction or the fact that Marco Rubio ordered the font changed at the State Department so as to be less accessible to people with disabilities…the cruelty keeps coming.
But at the very same time, so many Minnesotans are showing up for our neighbors in visibly faithful and non-violent ways, like gathering at the Karmel Mall in support of Somali neighbors and kindred holding a noisy protest outside a Bloomington Hilton where ICE officials are staying so they can’t sleep. And so many have already donated monies and grocery cards to support neighbors who are beng targeted by ICE. It is a lot of joy and sorrow mixed together.
And it feels very Advent-y to me, this chaos and sorrow, joy and hope all mixed together.
All of it stirs in me the question of how am I, as a Christian to live in the mix of it all? How are we as a faith community to act? How are we to ground ourselves in the hope and the joy, even as we grieve?
Amidst all these questions, I was at Panera and getting ready to leave. As I was packing up, I took a couple of paper napkins I hadn’t used and folded them up and slipped them in my fanny pack. I do that everywhere I get the chance because my mom needs them to blow her nose when we take her out on Sundays. You see, Pizza Luce where we always go uses cloth napkins.
As I folded the paper napkins, I found myself in a liminal space: I heard the story that had been told to me so many times of how, after I was born, my mom used to take me to visit ninety-six year old Auntie in the nursing home and how I’d crawl around as she did her hair or read to her.
I also heard the story of how Grammie and my three-year-old mom rode on the Queen Mary in 1939 to spend six months in Scotland with Grammie’s mother who was dying. How my mom rode her bike all over as Grammie bathed and cooked and spent time with her mother. And how Grammie was devasted to have to leave but they had to and they landed in New York just days before the start of World War II.
This liminal space opens up for me every time I fold those paper napkins and put them in my fanny pack. And it happens when I pull them out on Sunday afternoons and hand them to my mom…
This caring for our elders in big and small ways is an ancestral heirloom that I can almost hold it feels so real, almost like a jewel that’s been handed to me.
When Mary hears from Gabriel and consents to be a partner with God in the birth of Jesus, I imagine her to be a bit overwhelmed. And even as I hear her say, yes. I don’t hear it as a resounding yes. And I think it’s important that between her visitation from Gabriel and her Magnificat, Mary travels to her cousin Elizabeth’s house. I think she needs to be held and reminded of her belovedness before she can sing out. Before she can embody her prophetic partnership with God, which is admittedly pretty dangerous- because being unmarried and pregnant could be punishable by death in her culture- she needs the love and support of Elizabeth who greets her and loves on her. It is then that Mary is able to sing her song. And what a song it is!
“My soul magnifies my God
and my spirit rejoices in God my Liberator,
…the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is God’s name;
And what about us? One of the promises of Advent, especially in northern climes, is that this period of holy darkness is a time for all of us to gestate what God has planted in each of our hearts and minds and bodies. Each of us is invited to give birth to God’s presence anew. For us, this isn’t a physical pregnancy but rather a sacred birthing of the creativity that each of us is called to incarnate.
What has God given to you to give birth to in this season? In the midst of the Domination System under which we are living?
I think there are at least three things to lift up about the power of the Advent story.
The first is the invitation to listen for the Gabriels in our lives who come and visit us in our dreams, and in quiet times, in the liminal places where our ancestors speak to us and remind us that God is seeking our partnership to be born in particular and specific ways in the world.
Where and how is your Angel Gabriel visiting you?
A second important part of Advent is finding the Elizabeths in our lives who can wholeheartedly greet us… especially when we’re feeling overwhelmed or scared by what our dreams or the quiet is telling us. We need those people who can say, blessed are you among people and blessed is the gift you are called to bring forth.
Who are your Elizabeths? Are you visiting them and seeing your blessedness reflected back to you?
And then the third part of Advent is the invitation to sing forth your Magnificat. How is your soul making God’s presence in the world bigger and louder? How is the part of God that you are giving birth to going to help topple the domination system and bring about joy and justice?
As I have been seeking to pay attention to the Gabriels and Elizabeths and how I’m supposed to sing my Magnificat, I find myself on Signal chats and with multifaith colleagues who are seeking to give birth to radical solidarity. One of those beloveds is Rev. Susie Hayward who is the pastor for justice at Creekside UCC. She posted this slightly long testimony this week that’d I’d like to share.
Hey Beloveds… I want to offer a glimpse what we’re experiencing in Minneapolis for those outside, bc I honestly have no idea how much is being reported.
What the federal government is calling “Operation Metro Surge” began about a week ago, inaugurated with multiple racist, dehumanizing remarks by President Trump about Minnesotans (calling Somali Minnesotans “garbage” for example.). We then saw a big influx of out of state ICE agents arrive on our streets. They drive in unmarked cars throughout the city and into the suburbs beginning at about 6:30am every day until well after dark, detaining our neighbors. Some of those detained include citizens, targeted because they appear to be Somali or Latinx. One man was detained from his minivan, his two small children left behind alone, crying. One student was detained at Augsburg, and the staff and fellow students demanding to see a judicial warrant had guns pulled on them. The ICE agents did not produce a judicial warrant but took the student anyway. One white woman serving as a legal observer was detained for five hours by ICE, her wedding ring cut off. I see video footage throughout the day of ICE agents violating traffic laws (esp dangerous on our current snowy streets where coming to a quick stop is hard), berating legal observers or those seeking to protect their neighbors (including derogatory remarks to women about their bodies or obnoxious promises to “dedicate my next arrest to you”), tackling Minnesotans in the snow, using tear gas on observers. Two days ago, an ICE agent pointed a high-powered green laser pointer toward the cars of observers. There are multiple laws regulating the use of these laser pointers in the US bc they can cause retina damage. It’s clear these ICE agents are poorly trained. Yesterday, Blackhawk helicopters joined the operation. Many of those disappeared by ICE here are not listed on their website of detainees. The majority of those arrested do not have criminal backgrounds. Minnesotans are feeling terrorized by our federal government.
Thursday night was the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Catholic churches with a high number of Latine members held celebrations throughout the night. Faith trumped fear. Non-Catholic Minnesotans patrolled outside the churches to protect those inside. Friday, mosques held jummah prayers and non-Muslim Minneapolitans (some of whom aren’t themselves religious, but are sure displaying faithful action) signed up to be a protective presence outside every mosque in the city. This too is religious freedom activism.
Local democracy is coming alive here. Neighborhoods have organized school patrols, meal deliveries, rides for immigrant neighbors. Local elected leaders are coordinating closely with residents. The city government is strengthening ordinances to ensure federal agents cannot use city parking lots to stage their operations. Workers at the airport where deportation flights operate and US postal service workers are rallying in opposition to the use of their facilities to enable Operation Metro Surge. City police officers have shown up to protect community members from federal agents. Faith leaders are organizing spiritual support and care for the hundreds of people out on the streets all day long who are protecting neighbors and documenting illegal ICE actions, those who are making sure we know about every person taken to ensure nothing happens in the dark.
And then on Sundays, those of us who are practicing Christians go to church and we hear the Advent message about a holy light shining in darkness, the promise of God’s arrival even – especially – in a world full of suffering and chaos. This Sunday, the scripture is Mary’s Magnificat, in which she sings praises for God’s ability to “cast down the mighty from their thrones.”…
So to put it simply: It is awful here, what is happening. We are tired, afraid, anxious, angry. And, there is beauty in how the community is responding to care for each other. This is the immanent presence of God, Emmanuel, also known as Love.
There’s one other piece I’d like to lift up about Mary’s song. Mary didn’t create the song she sings. When you look at scripture, the words Mary’s sings are very close to the ones that her ancestor Hannah sang. The melody and the music of liberation and God’s radical healing and love that Mary proclaims are from a liminal space. She is connected to the ancestral cloud of witnesses who sing with her. In many ways, her song is more than a melody, it is a harmony she sings with the ancestors.
And that’s the fourth piece of Advent… Mary’s song is an invitation to receive a kind of ancestral heirloom… it is an invitation into that liminal space and sing in harmony with the ancestors—in big and small ways. We’re invited to sing with ancestors and gather napkins for our elders, and make noisy protest so oppressors can’t sleep unbothered, and put our bodies between kidnappers and neighbors…
My soul magnifies my God. May it be so. Amen.
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