Magnificat | Mary's Divine Song of Protest for All That's Good

The Magnificat for Every Tribe, Tongue, and Nation (Luke 1:45-55)

The provocative message
in the song of Mary
continues to disrupt our world today.
If we believe Mary's words to be true,
then there is great hope
for the ongoing redemption of God,
especially in the darkest corners of our world,

Advent light shining in the darkness.

A Divine Disruption
excerpt adapted from Christiana Rice's and Michael Frost's To Alter Your World: Partnering with God to Rebirth Our Communities

Scriptures: Luke 1:46-55

Mary knew, as she awaited the birth of the Messiah Jesus, that in her womb she carried the one who was to interrupt human progress like no other. Myriad prophecies spoke about the child growing inside her. Mary yearned for a Messiah who would tear down the oppressive regime and establish a new kingdom of justice.

The incarnation was a severe disruption of an existing paradigm. God chose to enter the world through the womb of a virgin Jewish peasant girl from the small village of Nazareth. Mary faced an uncertain future with potential retribution from her whole community. The Gospel of Matthew is careful to state that Joseph, her fiance, planned to quietly release her from her commitment to marry him rather than expose her to public humiliation and torture (Matthew 1:18-19). 

So Mary courageously accepts the call and carries the Christ child to full term, anticipating an alteration of life as she knew it. What a bold, venturesome and heroic young woman! Jesus the baby boy would stir up the family system into which he was born. There would be dissonance, reorientation and adjustment for Mary's new family. Jesus the Messiah, God in flesh, would disrupt the social order into which he was born. The political stasis would be rattled, power structures confronted, injustices brought to light and a strong voice given to the weak. In the turbulent waiting Mary sang, holding together the grittiness of her own life on the margins and a resilient hope in the God she trusted. Mary proclaimed the identity of Jesus as Messiah in what we've come to know as the Magnificat.

In its Latin translation, Magnificat is the first word of a longer phrase, Magnificat anima mea Dominum, translated, "My soul magnifies the Lord":

Mary sang,

 
“My soul magnifies the Lord,

and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

for He has looked on 

the humble estate of His servant. 

For behold, from now on 

all generations will call me blessed;

for He who is mighty 

has done great things for me, 

and holy is His name.

And His mercy is for those 

who fear Him from generation to generation.

He has shown strength with His arm; 

He has scattered the proud 

in the thoughts of their hearts;

He has brought down 

the mighty from their thrones and 

exalted those of humble estate;

He has filled the hungry with good things, 

and the rich He has sent away empty.

He has helped His servant Israel, 

in remembrance of His mercy,

as He spoke to our fathers, 

to Abraham and to His offspring forever.”

Mary laments her own pain 

and that of the weary world around her. 

Her faith is fierce. 

Carolyn Sharp says 

she envisions Mary as 

"a girl who sings defiantly 

to her God through her tears, 

fists clenched against an unknown future. 

Mary's courageous song of praise 

is a radical resource 

for those seeking to honor the holy 

amid the suffering and conflicts of real life." 

In the 1980s, the Guatemalan government decided that Mary's words about God's preferential love for the poor were too dangerous and revolutionary. The words of the Magnificat had been stirring the hearts of Guatemala's poor population. Mary's words about the Christ child were inspiring the poor to believe that freedom and change were indeed possible and that following the way of Jesus would interrupt the flow of civilization as they knew it. As passion swelled, the government banned any public recitation of the Magnificat. 

Likewise, in Argentina, the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, whose husbands and children had been disappeared under the country's oppressive military dictatorship, posted copies of the Magnificat throughout the central plaza of the capital to protest this injustice. These women were initial responders as lives were taken and families were broken apart by Argentina's military regime. Their activism not only helped rescue lives but also created local and global awareness around issues of human rights violations in Latin America and elsewhere. 

Jesus turns everything upside down,
pulling apart kingdoms and
announcing the full reign of God 

in His words, in His deeds and
in the power of the Spirit.

The Incarnation 

disrupts the fabric of society and
changes history forever.

The provocative message in the song of Mary continues to disrupt our world today. If we believe Mary's words to be true, then there is great hope for the ongoing redemption of God, especially in the darkest corners of our world. A new world was being birthed and continues to be birthed to this day. And perhaps Mary's words communicate the call and the purpose of the community of faith that chooses to align with this mission of God in Jesus. Certainly, following this way of life is revolutionary. When the followers of the Incarnate One enter into a neighborhood or a group or a community, they cannot help but create disruption because they come as representatives of the Disruptive One. But more than that, the church has to remain conscious of the fact that God is birthing a new world in Christ. God is scattering the proud, bringing down rulers from their thrones, lifting up the humble and feeding the hungry with good things. As this world unfurls around us, we join as partners in God's restorative purposes.

"Mary's Magnificat" by Ben Wildflower

For another powerful consideration of Mary's Magnificat, check out these words written in a Washington Post article:

" ... Throughout history, I would learn, poor and oppressed people had often identified with this song — the longest set of words spoken by a woman in the New Testament (and a poor, young, unmarried pregnant woman at that!). Oscar Romero, Salvadoran Roman Catholic archbishop and martyr, drew a comparison between Mary and the poor and powerless people in his own community. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German pastor and Lutheran theologian who was executed by the Nazis, called the Magnificat 'the most passionate, the wildest, one might even say the most revolutionary hymn ever sung.' Revolutionaries, the poor and the oppressed, all loved Mary and they emphasized her glorious song. But the Magnificat has been viewed as dangerous by people in power. Some countries — such as India, Guatemala, and Argentina — have outright banned the Magnificat from being recited in liturgy or in public. ... " 

Next Post

The Bold & Courageous 1st Advent Hymn

Christ is all,

Rev. Mike “Sully” Sullivan

Email Pastor Mike | Website | Visit Us | Support Us | Facebook Us

Advent Film Series Reflection | Children of Men by Cuarón

A world spinning in political chaos and pandemics. Food and necessities are scarce. Immigrants and refugees subjugated, separated, and hated. Humanity attempting to hang on to hope through technology and the numbing of senses ... and then a shock to the system comes in the form of a miracle. 

"Children of Men" is tied for my favorite film of all time (alongside "Incendies"). The brilliance of the script adapted from British dame P.D. James' novel The Children of Men (one example, I think, of a film surpassing the book); the masterful direction by Mexican auteur Alfonso Cuarón; the seamless and stirring cinematography photographed almost entirely handheld with very little traditional film lighting by Mexican cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki (i.e. "El Chivo"); the authentic and surprising performances by the multi-ethnic and multi-generational cast with strong work by Clare-Hope Ashitey, Clive Owen, Julianne Moore, Chiwetel Ejiofor, and Michael Caine; the gorgeously haunting soundtrack with original compositions by John Tavener, including "Fragments of a Prayer," and "Mother and Child," perfectly synced with the scenes over which they play; the prophetic glimpse into our current conflicts and conceptions of human progress as written about in BBC's "Why Children of Men has never been as shocking as it is now" ... all of the above and more come together in an unforgettable piece of cinema.

And I can't help but reflect on it again during Advent (i.e. which means, "arrival" or "coming') when the world is searching for hope at the end of a tumultuous year.

"I can't really remember the last time I had any hope. And I certainly can't remember when anyone else did either ... what's left to hope for?"

Theo, one of the main characters of "Children of Men" utters this line, soaked with the exhaustion and despair rippling through the world. In his time and place, women have stopped having babies, and if there's nothing more we can create, have we lost our image and purpose? If there will be no more generations, have all the promises of gods and men proved futile ...

" ... in remembrance of His mercy, according to the promise He made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever, God has brought help.” 

+ A fragment of Mary's Magnificat from Luke 1:54-55 during her own time of upheaval

It's apropos that "Children of Men" came out on Christmas Day in 2006. To me, it was a profound revelation of the holy family in such a way that anyone I have talked to since has heard me say, "Here is the most powerful Nativity I've ever seen on film."

Those many years ago, my young wife and I went to a classic old cinema house off Franklin Street in Chapel Hill, North Carolina on a dark winter's night to see it opening weekend, and when the lights went out in the theater, the room became pitch black, nary even a hand able to be seen in front of your face. This made all the ways this cinematic masterpiece shined that much more searing.

The year is 2027 and humanity has stopped being able to reproduce. There is no explanation, but a culture of death (i.e. disease, war, xenophobia, misogyny, abortion, pollution, genocide) has finally reached an apex that creation's womb has died and grown cold. Yet no one wants to take responsibility. Everyone blame shifts, fights, kills, takes anti-depressants, and promotes (and commits) state-sanctioned suicide (i.e. Quietus) while creation rots around them. To turn away from the present, obsession with youth is rampant as the film begins with the mourning of "Baby Diego," an 18-year-old idol who is killed, the youngest human being on earth.

Enter Theo Faron (whose name means "God's beautiful servant"), a divorced man whose ex-wife, Julian, works for an activist-terrorist group called the "Fishes." She asks him to transport an illegal immigrant named Kee (for key or "chi" the first letter for Christ in Greek?) to the Human Project ship, Tomorrow, which will transport her to a safe location away from the death knell that is tearing the United Kingdom (a name made meaningless by the current events) apart.

And then Theo discovers Kee is pregnant. Appropriately, the first words out of Theo's mouth when he witnesses the miracle are, "Jesus Christ!" Theo wants to spread this good news to everyone, but he is stifled by others' fears. What if the government found out that an illegal immigrant produced this miracle? The public shame and outcry would force the powers that be to wrestle control away (or perhaps even kill the mother and child). And it seems everyone has their hidden purposes to use Kee and the baby. Then all hell breaks loose. And perhaps, a shock of heaven, too. 

The unfolding story could even sound like this:

The baby was miraculously born to an illegal immigrant teenage girl, Kee, before she was married to anyone. She didn't know when or how she got pregnant. A blue-collar worker, Theo, stood by her side once he discovered the news, exclaiming, "Jesus Christ!" 

Their station in life made them social outcasts. While Kee was still pregnant, they were forced to travel through disease-ridden communities to a town south of the capital city due to an unjust immigration law enforced by the ruling government (similar to Jerusalem and Bethlehem under the census tax of Caesar Augustus).   

Along their journey, they were helped by hippies (seen as dirty and untrustworthy like shepherds were in the Ancient Near East) and sheltered by Russian immigrants (seen as foreign and dangerous like the magi to Israelites under oppression during the Roman Empire).  

As political refugees who people in power wanted to eradicate, Kee, Theo, and the baby embodied civil disobedience by not allowing the little one to be a part of the capital’s unjust power structures and schemes.   

Somehow, in the midst of a time that included proud, bombastic rulers, fearful people, and a violent and segregation-justifying state that propagated their way of "peace" for the world, an ethnic minority baby was born to a poor teenage mother in the middle of nowhere to bring good news of great joy for people from every ethnicity, class, and culture.   

And because of the baby Theo jumped and exclaimed "Jesus Christ!" in front of when he first saw Kee's pregnant belly, the blessing of a new tomorrow is reborn in individuals and families who hoped against hope to believe that the news of this birth would surpass xenophobia, pandemics, and border walls, and stretch across time into tomorrow, bringing together rich and poor, native and foreigner, sick and healthy, minority and majority, oppressed and oppressor. 

Kee's baby was born right in the middle of the mess of disease, human bigotry, power, injustice, fear, violence, and hate. And even the most hardened skeptic called it a miracle. 

This is Advent both before and now ... 

And aren't we longing for such a Christ-like breakthrough again ... ?

There is so much more that I could write and share, but I'd rather sit down, watch "Children of Men" with you, and discuss over some coffee, tea, or a pint. Like Theo, it's worth taking our shoes off, experiencing the pain and promise together (like the stigmata wound in Theo's foot that he experiences on a journey from servant-to-self into sacrificial servant for the world). Perhaps in the 21st century, holy ground can still be encountered here. 


Richard Lawson of Vanity Fair got it right when he said, 

Children of Men, like no other film this century, and perhaps no other movie ever, solves the meaning of life. ... Alfonso Cuarón’s staggering 2006 adaptation of PD James’ novel is that rare picture that astounds with technical marvels ... but it is also rich and vital in its emotional and philosophical depth: its sadness, its anger, its reverence and worry for humanity. ... (Children of Men) should be required viewing for anyone grappling with feelings of dread about modern civilisation. Which is to say, probably everyone. In the end there is transcendent hope, found amongst Cuarón’s beautiful, bracing rubble. 

Amen. In the beautiful, bracing rubble, a child has been born. A Son has been given. And the foundations of our lives and this world He can carry on His shoulders (Isaiah 9:6-7). 

So as we prepare to celebrate Christmas, let's remember again that "unto us a child is born." We all have gone astray, turning everyone to their own way. But He has come for us, Christ in the Rubble, making the Way to us to bring us His new humanity, a tomorrow that gives birth to miraculous life beyond what we can create on our own.

More Film Series Essentials:

+ Advent Film | Arrival

+ Advent Film | A Quiet Place

+ Advent Film | Joyeux Noel  

+ Advent Film | All the Light We Cannot See 

  

+ Christmas Eve Film | Tokyo Godfathers  

  

+ Facing Death Film | Of Gods and Men   

+ Facing Death Film | Gravity   

+ Facing Death Film | Coco 

 

+ Christ Over Chaos Film | A Hidden Life 

Christ is all,

Rev. Mike “Sully” Sullivan

Email Pastor Mike | Website | Visit Us | Support Us | Facebook Us

Advent Film Series Reflection | Joyeux Noel Stops World War

"Ave Maria" sung by Anna Sorensen
(Diane Kruger via Natalie Dessay) in "Joyeux Noël"

"... Hail, Hail, the Lord. 
The Lord is with thee. ...
Hail Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
pray, pray for us;
pray, pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death ... " 

+ "Ave Maria" melody
composed by Franz Schubert in 1825 A.D.

Above are lyrics from the classic Catholic French Christmas song, "Ave Maria," which are sung in the Oscar-nominated (Best Foreign Language Film, 2006) "Joyeux Noel."

The potency is that this song is shared in the midst of a field where enemy armies of the French, German, and Scottish have been battling in World War I. Is the Lord with them here and now at the potential hour of death?

"Joyeux Noel" invites us to consider how we receive the message of Advent that surprises, shocks, and stirs us to either hold back in fear or step forward in faith, even on a battlefield where any moment could be our end.

Advent begins in the dark ... but while Advent does begin in the dark, it also reveals God is coming in surprising and powerful ways to meet us in our darkness, confront evil, and reveal more than we could hope for. 

+ Advent | The Coming Day Before, Now, and Again

For this post, I will focus on a glimpse of one scene and the profound choice of soldiers laying down their arms for a moment's peace in the midst of a brutal war. Perhaps this reflection will provide a glimmer of hope for all those who are grieving the current wars in 2022 in Asia, Africa, and the Russia-Ukraine conflict in Europe, particularly because this scene also occurred in Europe.

Christmas Truce of World War I on YouTube

I don't think anyone would criticize us for laying down 

our rifles on Christmas Eve.

I don't have to write many words for this reflection. Simply look at the image below. The cross of Christ alight during a dark night as a Scottish minister silently listens to a German singer serenade a group of enemy soldiers from France, Great Britain, and Germany on a battlefield together on Christmas Eve during World War I.

The powerful beauty of this scene alone captures Advent in so many ways. The soldiers stopping. The lady singing. The quiet stillness. The "Silent Night, Holy Night."

In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it. Many peoples shall come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of the God of Jacob; that He may teach us His ways and that we may walk in His paths.” For out of Zion shall go forth instruction, and the Word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more (Isaiah 2:2-4).

If you know our world and the hearts of humanity, you will know that this ceasefire didn't last in World War I. There were consequences for choosing peace, for bending a knee to Jesus as the Lord bringing together people from other tribes, tongues, and nations instead of clinging to flags and colors. And there are still consequences today for those who seek first His Kingdom, and His justice, righteousness, and peace for the love of enemies and for the life of the world.

During Advent, "Joyeux Noel" reminds us again that a small, seemingly insignificant moment like this one during World War I is worth remembering. And as a spark of hope in the darkness, it has not lost its potency nor been lost in human history. In fact, moments like these shine and break through the dark fog of memory all the brighter to create curiosity and invitation. 

Is our world simply going to go through an exhaustive process of wars and rumors of wars? Is human progress worth the wait or do we need something else to break into our bickering battle for pride and power? Can reincarnation fix us or do we need to put our hope in the Incarnation who alone claims to make all things new? 

And if we put our hope in Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us, what will our lives look like on the battlefield of life?

This is the sign of Christian warfare during Advent: we do not inflict suffering on others, but bear suffering for the sake of the other, as our Lord suffered for our sins on the cross. It has been granted to you that for the sake of Christ you should not only believe in Him but also suffer for HIs sake (Philippians 1:29).  

Every selfish impulse resisted, every act of kindness, every testimony of Jesus, every act of resistance to evil is part of the coming triumph of God we anticipate. 

The Advent themes of conflict, darkness, militant witness, and expectant waiting for the coming of Christ in the last day deeply engage us with Jesus and His story in the Scriptures during this season when 'The end is not yet' (Mark 13:7). We live, as cannot be said too often in Advent, in the Time Between, the time of waiting and the time of hope, the time of enduring patiently and resisting the 'works of darkness' in the power of the One Who Comes (ho erchomenos — Revelation 1:8). The sign of life in the Time Between — make no mistake — is suffering. How can it be otherwise? 

The Christian Church is the vanguard of God's conquering future, inserted into 'this present evil age' (Galatians 1:4). 'We are not contending against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places' (Ephesians 6:12). We, Jesus' beloved Church, are the paratroopers dropped behind enemy lines. We, the Church, are the resistance fighters in the territory occupied by the Enemy. We, the Church, are the beleaguered guerrillas waging a war of liberation against ferocious odds. We are the landing troops securing a beachhead while being fired upon from massive fortifications. 'We are afflicted in every way,' Paul writes; 'while we live we are always being given up to death for Jesus' sake' (2 Corinthians 4:8, 11). This giving up of ourselves, this bearing of the cross, these waves of assault upon the enemy's defenses will continue to cost us even our very lives as long as the 'last enemy' (1 Corinthians 15:26) remains unvanquished; but 'the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed' (Romans 8:18). 

+ Fleming Rutledge, Advent: The Once and Future Coming of Jesus Christ

Lord, haste the day. Come, Lord Jesus, come. We need Christmas to stay.

After this I looked, and there was a great multitude ... from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands. They cried out in a loud voice, saying, “Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the Lamb!” (Revelation 7:9-10).

More Film Essentials: 

+ Advent Film | Children of Men

+ Advent Film | A Quiet Place

+ Advent Film | Arrival    

 

+ Christmas Eve | Tokyo Godfathers  

 

+ Facing Death Film | Of Gods and Men 

+ Christ Over Chaos Film | A Hidden Life

Next post: Advent Film Series Reflection | All the Light We Cannot See

Christ is all,

Rev. Mike “Sully” Sullivan

Email Pastor Mike | Website | Visit Us | Support Us | Facebook Us

CN Vintage Saints + Sinners | Mary Lee: Taste the Bittersweet

"God must surely be leading us in the right direction." + Mary Paik Lee

In honor of Mary and her Magnificat (see previous Advent + The Magnificat posts: A Divine Disruption for Good, The Bold & Courageous First Christmas Hymn, and Exalting God Reveals the Power to Fill Us and Transform Us), I wanted to highlight 4 other women during these 4 weeks of Advent to showcase how others have followed in Mary's footsteps in giving up their lives and opening their mouths to sing a song of resistance that shines in the darkness: that Jesus Christ seeks to be born in us to share and show the Good News of God's Kingdom of mercy, justice, and righteousness, bringing flashes of heaven to earth when the world seems at its darkest.
The first was African American Baptist Fannie Lou Hamer:

+ City Notes Magnificat Special '19 | Vintage Saints + Sinners: Fannie Lou Hamer: Stand Up, Sing Out!

Next is Korean Presbyterian Mary Paik Lee. 

Mary Paik Lee's Quiet Odyssey, originally titled, Life Is Bittersweet

"Mary Paik Lee: Taste the Bittersweet" excerpt adapted from Karen Marsh's Vintage Saints and Sinners: 25 Christians Who Transformed My Faith

Mary, born Kuang Sun Paik, was born to Korean parents who lived as a scholarly, prosperous family. Then one day, Mary's father welcomed into their lives an American missionary and taught him the Korean language — the same man who, in turn, translated the Bible into Korean. By rendering the Bible into a very simple alphabetical system, Western missionaries appealed to Koreans excluded from wealthier classes; Bibles were among the first written materials to be distributed among the common people, spreading both literacy and Christian belief.

The Paiks joined the expanding ranks of new Korean believers in Jesus. Christianity introduced transformative principles. Readers discovered unaccustomed notions of freedom in the Bible. Korean women, in particular, zealously embraced Christian teachings that challenged traditional Confucianism's bonds of female subjugation. Whereas respectable women had been forbidden outdoors during daylight hours, evangelistic "Bible women" traveled unimpeded to share their faith. Leaders in the Korean independence movement, many educated in missionary schools, would be emboldened by Jesus' liberating words as they sought to break free from long Chinese and Japanese domination.

Mary's Christian parents and grandparents flourished as teachers, business owners, and ministers until the day invading Japanese military forces commandeered their home and forced them onto the street. Under threat of war and violence, Mary's parents hurriedly gathered their small children and set sail for Hawaii, where Mr. Paik was promised work on a sugar plantation. Looking back, Mary wrote with esteem, "Such strong quiet courage in ordinary people in the face of danger is really something to admire and remember always."

Courage would be required, great courage, for decades of interminable hardship were to come. Conditions in Hawaii were miserable: the family slept on the ground of a fruit plantation without a nickel to buy bananas. The Paiks moved on to California in 1906, a time when there were no more than seven thousand Korean immigrants in all of North America. Walking down the gangplank of the ship in San Francisco, Mary wrote, "We must have been a very strange-looking group." They were accosted by a gang of young white men who spit in their faces, kicked up Mrs. Paik's skirts, and shouted incomprehensible insults.

Why would we come to a place we are not wanted? the alarmed six-year-old girl asked her parents. Mary's father told her to remember the very first Christian missionaries to Korea, those strangers who'd traveled far across the sea only to be harshly persecuted as "white devils." As people of Christ in a new land, the Paiks would endure too, for God had led them there. They'd study hard and work hard and show Americans their true worth. Even little Mary had to prove her strength. On her first day at Washington Irving School, Mary was surrounded by girls who hit her neck as they mocked her with a song, "Ching Chong, Chinaman, sitting on a wall. Along came a white man, and chopped his head off." Over the years, childish cruelty was matched by adult disdain, expressed in exclusionary laws and everyday offenses. Shut out of neighborhoods and public spaces ("For Whites Only!") and continually derided ("Dirty Jap!"), the Paiks struggled to simply stay alive. Legal codes barring Asians from most businesses codified the racism of fearful white Americans, citizens who didn't bother to see the differences between Chinese, Japanese, and Korean people who say only nameless Asians, foreigners, outsiders. They certainly didn't care that the Paik family had suffered from Japanese aggression too.

Without money, the Paiks subsisted on flour and salt. Mary recounts how, for months, her mother served them one tiny biscuit and a tin cup of water three times a day. Nonetheless, when the family sat down to eat, Mary's father always prayed, thanking God for all their blessings, something that never failed to irritate Mary. After one more starvation dinner, the child confronted her dad and asked how they could possibly be grateful. Mr. Paik responded with a question of his own, "Don't you remember why we came here?" The rest of their family back in Korea was suffering even more under the brutal Japanese occupation. They would thank God no matter the circumstance. Mary names this moment when, for the first time, she saw beyond her own discomfort and awakened to "the realities of life" and the suffering of others. She drank water to fill her aching stomach, slept, and then got up to hunt for a house-cleaning job. Mary found work with a family who required her to come before school, after school, and then all day Saturday and Sunday — a job for which she was paid one dollar a week.

The young Korean girl trembled at the injustice of her situation. She was tormented by churchgoing Americans: white people who never knew that her family had taken pity on hapless American missionaries in Asia, taught them the Korean language, joined their Presbyterian church, and gone house to house to spread the Gospel of love. As Mary spent another Sunday ironing from morning until nightfall, the eleven-year-old asked herself: where was their loving God now, in lonely California? Not in the well-appointed Presbyterian sanctuary on Main Street, apparently. When a friendly high school classmate learned that Mary was Presbyterian too, she invited Mary to meet her at the church one Sunday morning. Mary's father, "always the optimist," gave her permission, saying, "Why not? Maybe times are changing." When they arrived early for the worship service, the four Paik children were blocked at the front steps by the minister who snarled, "I don't want dirty Japs in my church," and sent them away, shouting, "Go to hell!"

And yet the Paiks always found their own ways to create Christian community. Whether they lived in an improvised shack or an abandoned barn, on Sundays they invited other immigrant families to come over for a time of worship. Everyone sang hymns and prayed, Mr. Paik preached a short sermon, and then Mrs. Paik shared whatever meager food they had for lunch without ever passing around an offering plate. Somehow, together, they always had enough to share. Mary would always remember her parents as the handsome, forward-looking couple who left Korea in 1905, confident that God would lead and provide, even in the face of evidence to the contrary. They held fast to the promise from Hebrews 11: "Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." In her own time, Mary took up her family's strong faith and the risky hope that it demanded.

Mary believed that life was bittersweet — and she didn't let the sweet go by unnoticed. She married H.M. Lee, a Korean man who'd emigrated to Mexico. The two made a life together in California, planting rice and selling fruit. In their rental house, an old building with no bathroom and no hot water, Mary said, "I felt rich with so many things for the first time in my life," even a toothbrush and toothpaste. When the oldest of their three sons, Henry, attended Georgetown and earned his PhD, she saw it as the fulfillment of hope for things not seen. Mary's husband died in old age (with a big smile on his face, she notes) but he left her with a priceless legacy: "a feeling of great solace that makes life worth living."

For all of Mary's experiences of toxic anti-Asian prejudice, she lived long enough to see oppressive laws change and a new cultural landscape emerge. In 1990, at the end of her life, she was gratified to note that "(Asian Americans) are able to work almost everywhere now," demonstration of a patiently awaited miracle from heaven. She saw her personal sacrifices as "nothing spectacular but a good firm foundation ... on which our future generations will find it easier to build their dreams."

Even though blatant racism is a recognized evil and discrimination is against the law, ours is not a "post-racial" society. Human hatred abides. People are sinful, broken. The United States fails to live up to its promises of equality, success, amity. But Mr. and Mrs. Paik followed God in trust and hope. Mary and H.M. Lee worked hard, studied hard, and honored Christ their whole lives long. And yet they suffered so. More than a few comfortable church people speak blithely of enjoying God's loving care, divine provision, protection, blessing, favor, while caring little for the material needs of brothers and sisters close at hand. Complacent Christians tell tales of sacrifices divinely rewarded, dreams come true, heroism, and happiness. But our plot lines come straight out of the American storybook, not the biblical narrative.

In what Mary calls "the realities of life," the righteous do suffer. She recounts her life story because she "wants young people to know the hardships that Asian immigrants have faced, so that they can appreciate their blessings today." Mary and her family didn't assume that God owed them a life of material security. They didn't interpret their suffering as a sign that God had failed them or that their faith was faulty. They just carried on, repeating that God must surely be leading them in the right direction. Out of their mouths, this is no soothing bromide, no entitled demand. It's a declaration of assurance in God's sufficient abundance.

Next post: City Notes Magnificat Special '19 | Vintage Saints + Sinners: Sophie Scholl: Knock a Chip Out of the Wall

Here are links to previous City Notes books:

2014 | A Meal with Jesus; The Art of Neighboring; A Praying Life; Building a Healthy Multi-Ethnic Church; Family on Mission; Encounters with Jesus; One Thousand Gifts

2015 | The Rest of God; Everyday Church; Rhythms of Grace

2016 | Letters to a Birmingham Jail; A Field Guide for Everyday Mission; Notes from a Failed Missionary on Rediscovering Faith; The Pursuing God; Yawning at Tigers

2017 | Gospel Fluency; Moving Towards Emmaus; Evangelical, Sacramental, and Pentecostal; Faith Without Illusions

2018 | The Eternal Current; Learning to Speak God

2019 | Tattoos on the Heart; Drop the Stones; Preemptive Love; Hermanas; The Ultimate Exodus; The Abbey of the Genesee Silent Retreat Special; Praying Jesus' Prayer Special; Advent Special; Magnificat Special Part 1

Soli Jesu gloria.

Christ is all,

Rev. Mike “Sully” Sullivan

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