Scripture Reading for Today:

Mary’s Song – Gifted with Emptiness

by Erin Glanville

It’s Monday night and I am sitting at a long wooden table. Around me are eight others from our neighbourhood, a mix of professional artists and people who just love art.

We are creating linocut stamps, which will be used in the first week of Advent, for a community art event at Jacob’s Well—a faith-based non-profit in the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver.

I hold my carving tool like a pencil, angling the wedged blade downward and guiding it into and across the surface of the rubber square. I watch as the ribbon curls upward and detaches, then rub my thumb across the narrow, empty trench left behind.

When the ink rolls over the rubber and the stamp is turned upside down, the emptiness of this cut in the surface will reveal an arrow. I’ve chosen an arrow to represent the unexpected directions in Mary’s Song. The humble are lifted up. The proud are scattered. God’s mercy extends across generations. The rich are sent away empty.

Stamp making is itself a humble medium, our facilitator Joy Banks reminded us at the outset. This Advent art about Mary’s Song will be by and for ordinary people. It’s about collaboration. Others will take your stamps and create something new out of them.

I wonder what this will feel like for those in our congregation who are professional artists. I wonder what it feels like for any of us really, who pride ourselves on our craft or our work, to be invited into ordinariness and simplicity. Not artisanal simplicity, but actual ordinariness.

Before we began carving, we took time to reflect together on Mary’s song in Luke 1, an echo of God’s mindfulness of Mary.

We observed the repetitions and the themes. Then, we started to name the tensions we felt:

• In order for the humble to be lifted up, the rulers have to be brought down. Mercy is comfortable, but the judgment piece – not so much.

• What does the promise to Israel, to ‘Abraham and his descendants forever’ mean right now, as Palestinian civilians die under siege?

• Filling the hungry sounds good. Sending the rich away empty...kind of unsettles my idea of a loving Creator.

What if...asks Joben into the silence, what if emptiness is not a bad thing?

I have often heard Mary’s Song interpreted as a private moment of vindication for a marginalized individual under threat. Facing public humiliation on several fronts, Mary sings about a joyful surprise: God’s beautiful plan reverses her fortune! God gives her honour! God gives her people hope amidst generational oppression! So good! In the past, when I have read Mary’s Song devotionally, the invitation has been to praise the loyalty of God to the poor and humble.

But in this moment, around this table, co-creating with Mary, with neighbours, with the Spirit, with metal, rubber, and ink, I am drawn back to God’s mindfulness for the rich who are sent away empty. And I am curious what this means for the Canadian church on a more collective level.

What if, Joben pushes us, the emptiness mentioned in Mary’s Song is not a bad thing? What if, when this line is read aloud at Advent, we don’t need to cringe on behalf of significant donors? What if, instead, we can rejoice with Mary at the prospect of such a gift? The gift of emptiness, offered to us who have much?

The song is for a collective; it’s not only personal. There is rejoicing here, not only for the poor but also for the rich, for the empty and the arrogant.

The theme of need comes up regularly in the work I do with refugee claimants. In partnership with Kinbrace Community Society, I designed a community education series called Becoming Neighbours (2023). Across the year, five unique dialogues each explored a time-tested value that can undergird a dignified welcome for refugees in Canada (welcome, trust, mutual transformation, celebration, and prayer). The theme of need as a gift has emerged naturally in each of those dialogues.

For some participants, the cultural values of independence and self-sufficiency surfaced as barriers. Having everything I need, they notice, displaces deep relationship, community, and a more mutual welcome. For other participants, the indignity of always being on the receiving end—of always being presumed to be empty and in need of filling—requires a reversal. Please, see not only my need but also what I bring; make space for what I can offer, is their invitation to those who traditionally see themselves as the givers. The concepts aren’t new, but putting them into practice in our relationships and organizations can be difficult.

Canadian culture reads “neediness” as an unattractive personality trait. Yet, Mary’s song points out the gift of being emptied. Canadian culture celebrates charity and generosity and values volunteer cultures. Mary’s song reverses even this.

I read Mary’s Song this year, and I still want to rejoice with Mary about God’s vindication for the world’s poor. As part of the Canadian church, though, I sense the first step is locating us honestly as—both the humble poor and also—the wealthy and powerful. And then! Open ourselves to the possibility of beautiful reversals. Become mindful of what and whom the gift of emptiness can make space for.

So my prayer for us is...
Spirit of God,
roll ink over our emptiness,
turn us upside down, and press us into paper.
Show us good possibilities and directions in this cultural moment.
Reveal to us the beautiful gift that our need can be to our communities.

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