Over the last several weeks (months) my social media feed has been filled with “Wicked”. Clips from the film, from interviews with the stars and the director, reactions from people who have seen in, jokes and spoofs and so much more. I haven’t seen the film yet, but I did read the book and have seen the original Broadway musical, so I’m familiar with the material. What I’ve noticed over and over again is how many folks are saying the plot and themes feel incredibly resonant to the time we’re living in. 

As we were moving our way through Advent in the Queer Theology community, for one of our weekly reflections Brian asked me about the difference between prophecy (as its found/used in Scripture) and a sense of fortune-telling or magic like we often find in pop culture and fantasy novels. Prophets, in the traditional sense, aren’t fortune-tellers they are truth tellers. Prophets are people who pay attention. Who look around and can see the writing on the wall. I think often of Octavia Bulter when I think about prophets. Her book “Parable of the Sower” was published in 1993 and the story starts in 2024. In it a charismatic person has taken over who runs on the slogan “Make America Great Again.” When asked about this book she says “I didn’t make up the problems, all I did was look around at the problems we’re neglecting now and give them about 30 years to grow into full-fledged disasters.” [A Few Rules For Predicting The Future by Octavia E. Butler] She goes on to say “Of course, writing novels about the future doesn’t give me any special ability to foretell the future. But it does encourage me to use our past and present behaviors as guides to the kind of world we seem to be creating. The past, for example, is filled with repeating cycles of strength and weakness, wisdom and stupidity, empire and ashes. To study history is to study humanity. And to try to foretell the future without studying history is like trying to learn to read without bothering to learn the alphabet.”

I’ve been thinking about this a lot as I reflect on both the state of the world, but also the Christmas story. 

On the one hand, as someone who grew up in the church, who has been an ordained priest for over a decade, and who has reflected on this story more than I can count there is always a bit of “What new is there to say THIS year?” And yet, I think about stories. How we return to the same stories and themes over and over again. How “Wicked” felt familiar when it was released and still feels familiar now. It’s because there is something true in it that transcends time. Truth that remains true even as the world it’s in shifts and changes. 

I think many of us have been struggling with the world lately. We look around and see so much that is broken and it feels completely overwhelming. We look to our leaders and they don’t seem to be leading. We feel betrayed by our churches and our politicians and sometimes even our families and neighbors. We wonder what to do next. Where we find hope. And if anything is even worth saving. 

In the Christmas story we’re told of a young woman, unmarried, living in an occupied country. Every day she sees the oppression of her people. Every day she sees people struggling with not enough food to eat, in terrible economic conditions. She is visited by an angel asking her to bear a child. I can imagine some of the thoughts running through her head: You want me to bring a baby into this? You want me to choose to bring a baby into this? Not only that, but saying yes will put me into danger, it will potentially destroy my future marriage and stability. And yet, she says yes. 

She’s not a naive young woman. She knows the stakes. And when she goes to tell her cousin the news, she clearly ties her decision to the state of the world around her. She doesn’t say I’m doing this in spite of the political situation, no when she sings her hymn of praise it includes this: 

God shows mercy to everyone,
from one generation to the next,
who honors him as God.

He has shown strength with his arm.
He has scattered those with arrogant thoughts and proud inclinations.

He has pulled the powerful down from their thrones
and lifted up the lowly.

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

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

just as he promised to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to Abraham’s descendants forever.” (Luke 1:50-55 CEB)

She proclaims that this birth is an act of resistance. She proclaims, as part of the prophetic tradition that God cares for the most marginalized. God will fill the hungry and send the rich away empty. God will remember God’s promises. 

She believed that and it gave her the courage to say yes. Yes to continuing to exist. Yes to giving birth to a baby. Yes to putting herself at risk. 

So we turn once again to this ancient story for wisdom, for hope, for encouragement. We look to the prophets of old and of now to help us name what is. We pay attention. 

Then we say yes. To continuing to live. To joy. To love. To thriving. We say yes to protecting each other. We say yes to hope, even in the face of fear. 

Even when it’s risky. Even when it costs us something. Even when we feel alone or betrayed or afraid. 

When we feel our voice shake or our knees get wobbly, we turn to the stories, to the prophets, to those who can help to shore us up for the next go. We take comfort and hope from wherever it comes; a musical, an ancient story, the small kindness of a neighbor. 

Until there is peace on earth, we work for peace on earth.