On Advent and Prophetic Voices and Fighting Like a Girl

             Advent is upon us. This in between time of waiting and expectancy that always seems to be surrounded by peace and joy and good tidings (and the excitement of Christmas services being over and finally getting to rest and spend time with our family for all us church working folk). This is the only time a year when we get excited about waiting. I know in my own life, I have never been one to welcome in between times or having to wait for anything with much peace or joy.

            This year, for some reason, Advent has felt very different to me. With everything that is going on in the world, I feel a bit odd (and privileged) to sit in the beauty of poinsettia filled sanctuaries listening to choirs sing carols and tell the stories of Christ’s birth. Yesterday I went to a Lessons and Carols service at St. Paul’s UMC in Houston. Exquisite music, beautiful prayers, and one of the best versions of the Adam and Eve story I have ever heard- read by quite possibly the most adorable little girl ever- in perfect King James English, no less. It was the perfect Advent celebration. And as we were leaving, mom looked at me said, “that was the first time I have ever sat in a sanctuary and thought about what would happen if a gunman came in.”

            Advent anticipation marked by fear. Peaceful and silent nights un-silenced by violence and bombs. It isn’t as though this is the first time we have lived in a war torn or violent world during Advent. This was the very world that Jesus was born into. And for many, this is a daily reality that is unconcerned with certain months of the year or religious celebrations. However it does seem that the fear and terror are getting closer and closer to home, and for those of us who have been privileged enough to not experience the atrocities of war and violence first hand, we are being called to face something in what feels like a much more real way for the first time. And so it seems easier to domesticate and sanitize the story of Advent and Christmas than to face the truth of how we turn away Mary’s and Joseph’s in our own lives daily. It seems easier to sit in silence watching the Christmas lights glimmer and dance, than to sit in the presence of those whose lives have been torn apart by war, listen to their stories and open up our homes to them. I am afraid, for me, it is easier to wait passively, feeling powerless, lamenting the violence in our world and using prayer as a thinly veiled spiritual response instead of using it as a call to action; a means of being present to God in a way that allows me to hear God’s voice calling me to step outside of my comfort zone, calling us to be the Church, to be a sign, however small, of the kingdom.

            But does one voice really matter? Yesterday, our gospel reading came from Luke 3:1-3- “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness. Prepare the way of the Lord.” As I read those words, I couldn’t help but remember this picture that has been circulating on social media.

            You probably haven’t seen it, but since about half of my friends on facebook are from Brazil, my newsfeed is an interesting polarity of North American and South American politics. For the past month, the governor of São Paulo has been trying to close and consolidate schools all over the state. This has led to a huge occupy movement by students and teachers who have been taking over and occupying their school buildings to protest and fight for their right to education. Throughout this occupation, several photos have emerged of young girls courageously confronting the police (notoriously known for being extremely violent) with their right to keep their schools.  The hash tag #fightlikeagirl has come to describe the bravery and boldness that these young girls have to stand up (non-violently) to police intimidation tactics and fight for a better life for themselves and their peers.

            “A voice cries out in the wilderness”- for education, for healthcare, for a better life for her and for her future children, for a place at the table, for her voice to be heard. A voice cries out to defy violence, withstand blows and stand her ground because she does not have the luxury of waiting any longer and cannot remain silent.  

            And after over a month of these voices crying out, the decision was overturned and the schools will, in fact, remain open. Because of one voice- not a voice of power or privilege- but the voice of one student, and then another, and then another, and another, who decided to believe that their voices mattered and ended up creating a movement that could not be silenced. These are the advent voices that I need to hear every day- the voices that give me hope while I actively wait. These are the voices that give me the courage to trust and use my own voice, even when it is uncomfortable, even when it isn’t convenient or easy. Because that is how we best prepare the way of the Lord- not just by singing songs and saying prayers, but by defending the powerless and acting out of love, by speaking truth and telling the stories that no one wants to hear, by remembering that Jesus walks with us and teaches us how to love our enemies and respond without fear. As we continue to wait, may we each have the courage to #fightlikeagirl and let our voice be heard in the wilderness.