The Third Sunday of Advent: Lifting up the lowly

Is 61:1-4, 8-11; Psalm 126 OR Luke 1:47-55; 1 Thess 5:16-24; John 1:6-8, 19-28

I think it's more than a little ironic that I'm posting about lifting up the lowly on the morning after someone lowly lifted from my pocket something that belonged to me and made it something that belonged to her. I suppose there is a bit of a perverse sort of Robin Hood thing going on there, robbing from the rich to give to the poor, or whatever. I can insert all the standard denials that I am certainly not rich by American standards, that I give to worthy causes all the time, that I don't act like other people are beneath me because they get paid less, blah blah blah. But there is something interesting in that experience. For it was coupled with an earlier experience of literally being followed around a store with expensive fare--mainly trendy organizational type stuff for the home: space savers, cutlery sets, flatware, dishes, etc.

I know we were followed around because my girlfriend had a large bag on her shoulder, and on a certain level I do not mind being followed at all, for I am surely not going to steal anything, and those who watch me to make sure I don't are only wasting their time. But I first wondered, then immediately felt guilty and sought God's forgiveness for wondering, if we fit the "profile" of people who would steal things from a trendy household items store. I began to feel uncomfortable not just at the fact that a certain guy, and later a lady, worker was following us around, but at the obvious way he was doing it. As I continued to reflect on the experience even as it was happening, I supposed this is how certain ethnic groups in the States--particularly African-Americans, but this experience certainly is not limited to them--feel at expensive stores when they get hounded like that. Now, I have no illusions that one experience in a trendy store in the Philippines is anything like the unjust and immoral behavior effected on African-Americans or any similarly oppressed group in the States, but I have to think it was at least analogous. Workers in this situation are not eager to make a sale, like most Filipino store workers I have come across--almost so eager to help that I want to yell at them to go away--but they are watching over the things like hawks, just certain that those who fall under their scrutiny will justify it by their action. My girlfriend, as we were leaving, rather defiantly showed our main observer the bag with the book I had purchased earlier, in order, she said, to prove that they had no business watching us like that.

So the reading from Isaiah, which is the reading Jesus is said to have expounded upon in his first sermon at the Nazareth synagogue, is all about proclaiming liberation for captives and healing for the oppressed. The Philippines is nothing if not oppressed, as was demonstrated by our experience last evening in the two malls--overbearing scrutiny in one and coordinated, clearly desperate, theft in the other. Humanity has a long way to go in repairing relationships between people, and particularly between people groups: whether the Us vs. Them is Filipinos vs. Americans; "Whites" vs. African Americans (the former term being itself a racist epithet used of the oppressors--who come from many ethnic backgrounds--by the oppressed; "Islam" vs. the "West" (again, both terms being illogically comprehensive); or even the Hatfields and the McCoys.

Yahweh loves justice much more than burnt offering, so much so that it could be said that Yahweh hates burnt offering, hates ritual, even hates people coming to Church on Sunday morning.

Another item from last night. I just looked at my receipt from the bookstore at which I had bought the book shown so defiantly to the worker at the kitschy store (a biography of Pontius Pilate). The cashier's name was "Mary Grace." The alternative Psalm for today's lections comes from the Song of Mary in Luke 1, probably consciously designed to mirror the song of Hannah in 1 Samuel, as they pick up on many of the same themes, and in particular the exaltation of the lowly and the concomitant bringing down of the lofty. That Mary Grace was my cashier last night is one of those serendipitous kinds of things. I am very upset about what happened to me last night, both the scrutiny and the theft, but I rely upon the grace of God, as communicated through his servant Mary, who proclaimed to the angel that she would have it be according to his word. There is something quite powerful in that. Momentary injustice stings, but the sting fades after a while--provided the momentary injustice does not become systemic as it unfortunately too often has. When momentary injustice does become systemic, then it is incumbent upon all of us, and in particular those who find themselves a part of the dominant group, to set themselves and their interests aside, to work for justice and mercy instead of gain. This is a lesson that I needed to learn, even though I say that I am not rich by American standards, that I give to worthy causes all the time, that I don't act like other people are beneath me because they get paid less, blah blah blah.

For it is even in moments of experiencing momentary discomfort analogous to, but certainly not on the same level as, the systemic injustice experienced by other people that elements of grace shine through. Especially when Mary Grace sells you a book about Pontius Pilate. Amen.