Hello friends,
I finished all my writing for school this week, which means I had a bit more time for the newsletter. Turns out that extra time turned into a jam-packed issue. There’s a lot here.
Here’s a quick summary:
First, an essay on Mary’s Song in Luke 1.
Second, a couple quotes from a Dietrich Bonhoeffer sermon on the same subject.
Third, in links I have a bit of commentary on a particularly grieving and important bit of news.
Fourth, a few more interesting links. I stumbled across a bunch of good stuff this week.
And finally, as usual, some books I’ve been reading.
Before all that, here’s my Christmas playlist I promised you a couple weeks ago. Eight hours and 35 minutes of Christmas joy. (Sorry to those who don’t use Apple Music. I couldn’t find a good way to share it outside of that.)
Thanks for reading. You all are awesome.
And if you wouldn’t mind, feel free to share this newsletter with a couple friends. I had a personal goal of hitting 50 subscribers by the end of the year and we’re super close to that number.
Humbly,
Joshua
Mary’s Song
The Song of Mary in Luke 1:46–55 is the oldest Advent hymn. And according to Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “the most passionate, the wildest, and one might almost say the most revolutionary Advent hymn that has ever been sung.” I’d encourage you to take the time to read it.
It begins by glorifying the Lord for being mindful of her. And continues in a way we might expect for a hymn introducing the incarnation of God himself. It then takes a turn, noting that God “has brought down rulers from their thrones, but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things, but has sent the rich away empty.”
Why is this the focus of Mary’s Song? What about Jesus’s coming leads to this kind of hymn?
Mary knows better than any of us what it’s like to wait on Jesus to arrive. She was not only one of the Jews waiting on the promised Messiah, but once the angel appeared to her, she was also the one experiencing the discomfort of pregnancy and the anticipation of her son being born. Both of those realities made the waiting even more difficult.
She was part of a marginalized group, she was poor, and now she was a 14 or 15-year-old girl, unmarried and pregnant. Even among the outcasts, she was now outcast.
What she needed, what she hoped for, was for the world to be set right. She needed the powerful to be brought down and the lowly to be lifted up.
So when she meets Elizabeth, whose unborn baby would be the one announcing the arrival of the Messiah, she bursts into song. She magnifies the glory of God, gives thanks that He would look upon someone as lowly as her to carry the child of God, and she looks forward to the hope of justice that child will bring.
The message of Christmas is a revolutionary one and there is no getting around it. It’s about the world being set right. And for that to happen, some need to be brought down so others can be lifted up.
In her book on Advent, theologian Fleming Rutledge writes that “It would generally be agreed that Advent celebrates three ‘advents’”:
Adventus redemptionis: the incarnate Christ “born of the Virgin Mary, crucified under Pontius Pilate”
Adventus sanctificationis: the presence of Christ in Word and sacrament
Adventus glorificamus: the coming in glory to be our judge on the last day
These three advents, or arrivals, illustrate well the theological idea of “the already and the not yet.” There are many ways in which God has already done something through Christ, but that same thing has not yet been completed. For example, we are already redeemed through Christ, but not yet glorified. We are one with him, but not to the extent we will be in eternity.
Advent is the same. On the first advent, we see Jesus has already arrived. He was born, lived, died, and rose again. He was the hope of Mary, coming to bring her justice.
And he did, but not completely. We are still waiting for the end, when he will arrive again, bringing God’s ultimate judgment to the world – finally and fully setting the world right.
And in the meantime, we get to experience the current advent. That of Christ arriving through Word and sacrament. We get to experience his presence in our daily lives and take it to the world.
What’s beautiful about Advent is that it at once calls us to do three seemingly contradictory things.
Remember the justice of God arriving.
Look forward to when that justice will be completed.
Work toward that future through the power of Christ received in Word and sacrament.
We’re told to remember, to wait, and to work.
Mary’s Song is about the work God does in the world, bringing hope to those who long for it. And at the same time, it reminds us that we are part of that work.
Bonhoeffer on Mary’s Song
I thought I’d include the beginning and end of Bonhoeffer’s sermon mentioned above. (And here’s a link to the entire sermon.) It’s beautiful. And it’s fascinating when you take into account his resistance to the Third Reich, working on behalf of the marginalized of his time.
It begins:
The song of Mary is the oldest Advent hymn. It is also the most passionate, the wildest, and one might almost say the most revolutionary Advent hymn that has ever been sung. This is not the gentle, tender, dreamy Mary as we often see her portrayed in paintings. The Mary who is speaking here is passionate, carried away, proud, enthusiastic. There is none of the sweet, wistful, or even playful tone of many of our Christmas carols, but instead a hard, strong, relentless hymn about the toppling of the thrones and the humiliation of the lords of this world, about the power of God and the powerlessness of humankind. This is the sound of the prophetic women of the Old Testament—Deborah, Judith, Miriam—coming to life in the mouth of Mary. Mary, who was seized by the power of the Holy Spirit, who humbly and obediently lets it be done unto her as the Spirit commands her, who lets the Spirit blow where it wills [John 3:8]—she speaks, by the power of this Spirit, about God’s coming into the world, about the Advent of Jesus Christ.
And ends:
Who among us will celebrate Christmas rightly? Who will finally lay down at the manger all power and honor, all high regard, vanity, arrogance, and self-will? Who will take their place among the lowly and let God alone be high? Who will see the glory of God in the lowliness of the child in the manger? Who will say with Mary: The Lord has looked with favor on my lowliness. My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior. Amen.
Interesting Link
In President Trump’s final days, he is set to become “the country’s most prolific execution president in more than a century.” He’s had more people executed in the past five months than the federal government executed in the past five decades.
There are so many reasons to abolish the death penalty – practical and theological. The practical ones include the fact that 1) there is no evidence that the practice actually deters crime, 2) it’s far more expensive than life in prison, 3) there’s significant evidence that we execute innocent people, and 4) the legal process that puts people on death row is racially biased, putting a disproportionate number of black men to death.
With all of that being the case, the practice of capital punishment is unjust and barbaric.
In addition, for the Christian, there are theological reasons to reject the practice. As theologian Miroslav Volf put it, “Since Christ died for the sin of all, the scandalous and the most beautiful fact is that nobody—absolutely nobody!—is beyond redemption. With capital punishment, the state places itself between wrongdoers and God’s grace given on the cross.” To stand between that person and God is to do the opposite of that to which we’re called.
Capital punishment is not justice. It, in fact, takes away the opportunity for true and Biblical justice to happen here on earth. The wrongdoer can’t be set right with the world if they’ve been murdered by their government.
More Links
Mary’s Magnificat in the Bible is Revolutionary: Another article on Mary’s Song. Highly recommend.
God is Angry with Us, Dr. Chris Green: This is an incredible sermon preached a couple weeks ago by Chris Green, a wonderful theologian here in Tulsa.
Public Theology in Retreat - Los Angeles Review of Books: A brilliant essay by Brad East on David Bentley Hart. East reviews Hart’s writings with the backdrop of the diminished role of public theologians in America. Hart is a fascinating theologian and this essay is an apt introduction to him. It’s a long one, so if you don’t read it, at least read this final paragraph:
If David Bentley Hart represents anything, it is that there is more to Christianity in public than debauched power politics, more to theology than the caricatures of the unknowing. It is a rich, demanding tradition that hates injustice, loves the truth, privileges the downtrodden, adores the beautiful, and refuses to give even one inch to the atomizing, reductive forces of a technocracy rushing to impose the future on us all. It knows, but what it knows is mystery. It is not what you wish it were, and it will not affirm what you already believe. But then, who would want that? “Our longing for transcendence is inextinguishable in us,” and though our age obscures it, “we are nevertheless still open to the same summons issued in every age to every soul.” Come and see.
The sad irony of celebrity pastors | Spectator USA: A fascinating article, especially considering the non-religious perspective of the author.
Staying Calm About Critical Race Theory: A level-headed explanation of Critical Race Theory after several SBC seminary presidents signed a joint statement denouncing it.
My Favorite Books of 2020 - Russell Moore: Russell Moore is the president of the Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission of the SBC. I added a few of his picks to my list.
‘The Mandalorian’ is an indictment of holy wars, and a celebration of pluralism: This is just a wonderfully deep and nerdy essay by Jack Jenkins, a must-follow reporter with the Religion News Service.
What I’m Reading
Advent: The Once and Future Coming of Jesus Christ, by Fleming Rutledge
Miracle on 10th Street: And Other Christmas Writings, by Madeleine L’Engle
Thanks for another great newsletter.