Advent Part 3: Magnificat, the Great Reversal and the Upside-Down Kingdom

Advent Part 1: The “Already – Not Yet,” Liminality, and the Kingdom of Heaven

Advent Part 2: Magnificat, Spirituals, and Anticipation

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Last week, we started to explore the theme of God’s already present but still anticipated kingdom through the lens of Mary’s Magnificat. I want to continue that discussion today by looking at the second half of her song (Luke 1:51-55):

 He has shown strength with his arm and has scattered the proud in their conceit,

Casting down the mighty from their thrones and lifting up the lowly.

He has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.

He has come to the aid of his servant Israel, to remember his promise of mercy,

The promise made to our ancestors, to Abraham and his children for ever.

We looked at the Magnificat as an African-American spiritual last week, but this week’s selection takes on overtones of 1970s anarchistic punk rebellion.  What Mary describes here has been called by some the “Great Reversal.” She anticipates a time when God will destroy the elitist pretensions of the conceited, tear tyrants from their thrones and replace them with the humble, and send the rich away from their own dinner tables so the poor can feast in their place. These sentiments may sound exciting or sinister depending upon our own relative position, but they pervade the entire Bible, as witness Isaiah 40:4 with “Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low,” or Psalm 146:7-8 with “The Lord sets the prisoners free” and “lifts up those who are bowed down,” or Zephaniah 3:19 where God promises to take the lame and the outcast and “turn their shame into praise.” God continually promises that a day will come when all will be put right, as we have already seen, and often this takes the form of an upending, a reversal of evil fortunes and a bestowing of good gifts upon those who have had nothing but sorrow in life.

In our earthly hierarchy of values, we prioritize those who are rich, successful, intelligent, accomplished, and beautiful. But it is clear that from God’s perspective, our values are skewed. God continually expresses a special concern for those who would have been considered most worthless in ancient Israel: orphans, widows, lepers, the poor, and immigrants or “aliens.” Indeed, it would not be inaccurate to say that God displays a preference for the marginalized and disenfranchised. 1 Cor 1:28-29 notes that “God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are.” In effect, God cancels out all the accomplishments that might make us so proud; in Jesus’ words, the last shall be first and the first shall be last. This kind of ethic has led some (like Mennonite author Donald Kraybill) to describe the Kingdom of Heaven as an “Upside-Down Kingdom,” a place where our hierarchies are flipped on their heads, with the coronation of a homeless country bumpkin rumoured to be illegitimate and leading an army of smelly fishermen and tax collectors. The values of this Upside-Down Kingdom are best exemplified by Luke’s Beatitudes, which extol the poor, the hungry, and the despised and denounce those who revel in their riches, full stomachs and good reputation.

Jean Vanier is one example of a person who has tried to put the values of the Upside-Down Kingdom into practice (others in this mold would be figures like Dorothy Day, Mother Teresa, and Toyohiko Kagawa). He came from a privileged and indeed elite background, with a father who was a major-general, ambassador and later the Governor General of Canada. Vanier himself studied in Paris and became a professor of philosophy at the University of Toronto. But at the age of 36, inspired by Jesus, he left his academic career to start an organization that would work with people with severe developmental disabilities. Unlike many, Vanier’s organization, l’Arche, was predicated on the notion that those viewed (inaccurately, of course) by society as “normal” had as much to learn from the differently abled as they had to offer them in terms of assistance. Thus, in his group homes, the “workers” live among the “clients” for their mutual growth, rather than following more paternalistic models where a service is provided by the “able” to the “helpless.” The l’Arche model may sound wildly impractical, but it reminds us that the values of God’s coming kingdom are fundamentally different than our own. It should also give us pause—in what ways have we bought into a system that reinforces the “right” of the privileged, rather than trusting in a God who is unimpressed by strength (Psalm 147:10) and prefers the weak and foolish things of the world (1 Cor 1:27)? Juergen Moltmann reminds us that “Those who hope in Christ can no longer put up with reality as it is” but must begin to “contradict” it. After all, God isn’t actually going to be turning the world upside down, but right side up. In following Christ, we get a head start in learning how to walk on our feet instead of our hands.