Mary's Magnificat: Where Do We Find God?

This past Sunday was the 4th Sunday of Advent, and one of the lectionary readings was the Magnificat, also known as the Song of Mary (Luke 1:46-55):

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.”

I daresay most people hear or read the Magnificat without thinking too deeply about the words, but as several theologians have pointed out, it is quite subversive, in particular, verses 1:52-53:

He [God] has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.

The Magnificat's subversiveness has certainly not been lost on authoritarian governments. At least three times in history, governments have banned it from the public square. When the British ruled India, it was banned from being sung in church. And after it became a song of inspiration for the poor of Guatemala in the 1980s, the government banned it from being publicly recited. And at about the same time in Argentina, when thousands of children disappeared during Argentina's "Dirty War," and in response the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo plastered posters with the Magnificat's words on them all over the capital plaza, the Argentinian government outlawed the public display of Mary's words.

I don't think it's an overstatement to say that the Magnificat has lost its subversive edge. It's tempting to blame the commercialization of Christmas, but I think it was tamed long before that. Regardless, now we quickly jump over it to the story of Jesus's birth (Luke 2:1-7), the praise of the shepherds (Luke 2:8-20), and the visitation of the wise men (Matt 2:1-12). But even the rest of the story contains subversive elements: feeding troughs (i.e., mangers) and shepherds point to a God more interested in the plight of the poor than the problems of the wealthy. Moreover, visible from Bethlehem would've been Herod's palace, the Herodium, which was located at the top of a 2,500 foot high manmade mountain and the largest palace in the Roman world at the time.

This contrast between rich and poor was succinctly captured by John Dominic Crossan in an article that appeared in the Christian Century back in the 1990s: "Where are we to find God?", he asked. "Among the poor in a lowly stable, or in the halls of power of Herod's Palace?" An excellent question. A question, unfortunately, I don't think we ask enough this time of year.

(Note: Crossan's quote isn't verbatim because I was unsuccessful in my quest to track down the original article; thus, it is "from memory.")