Mary, the mother of Jesus, was radical — a prophet, even, in a world that offered little hope for an unwed pregnant teenager.

For many Christians, Sunday, Dec. 22 is the Fourth Sunday of Advent — the day that symbolizes love — wherein Mary’s song of triumph and manifesto of hope, The Magnificat, is read aloud from the Gospel of Luke.

She sings: “God has lifted the lowly and brought the powerful down … God has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away … God has done great things through me.”

Mary sings of a flipped world, an imagination where people who are poor, who are grieving, who are made to feel less than, who are oppressed — receive the coming of a God who puts them first. She knew the possible revolution of what faith could be when we imagine a world of love and belonging. Do Christians today know?

Advent and Christmas aren’t for the shopping and the buying and the forced happy, “oh I’m fine!” in the face of a world that doesn’t feel fine.

Christmas is for the lonely, aching for connection and for authentic engagement. Like Mary; like you and me.

My favorite Christmas service, at many churches called “Blue Christmas” or “Longest Night,” is designed for those in grief. I have known of people who, in the echoes of despair, went to every Blue Christmas service they could find, in any church, because the whole capitalist world tells a different and jarring story in this time.

The power in grief, coming alongside grief, can dispel loneliness. There is no reason to push your grief aside — it is connected to your love. It accompanies you, too, because of your love. Coming alongside others who know this in their spirits can be a balm.

I believe Christmas is for the hopeless. The faithful expression of God entering the world is to bring hope and change to the slog of the pain of the empire; in the form of a wee one.

In this era: I confess sometimes I have a hard time finding hope, too. As a pastor, it is my work to point to hope for communities. As a mama, I hold hope and magic alive for my wee one. As an organizer and leader, I search for hope with the systems of which I am a part.

And yet, especially as we expect governmental change beyond the imagination of most people, one of the places that can hold my hope in escrow is faith.

There is hope in Mary who can sing that those with hoarded power will not prevail.

There is hope in her cousin Elizabeth, who, as the scripture reads, recognizes a possibility for a different kind of future within Mary.

I find hope in this faith tradition of my own ancestors in Christianity — as it has been carried by liberation voices and abolitionists across hundreds of generations and many fascist regimes.

Because faith is bigger than our government, and faith is not the government.

Christian faith is a code of wisdom that calls us to adhere to a more just society, and more caring community. It’s one path, of many, which calls us closer to love and belonging.

When I look to sacred texts for wisdom, I see evidence in the Advent Song of Mary, in the teachings of Jesus, in the presence of the Spirit of God calling again and again for how we prioritize the people, help our neighbors, show up for those who are hurting.

And when I look to our world for wisdom and meaning-making, I see it in the mutual aid groups re-emerging and the sites of care for community, sometimes held in local churches with feeding ministries and sometimes held in bookshops and libraries and coffee shops welcoming us with a “find hope here!” sign. I feel it in emerging connections between people, weaving deep.

I find hope in the United Church of Christ where I serve, where we proclaim: No matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey, you’re welcome here. Where churches are trying their best to serve their communities as we really are, and welcome who we hope to be as called by our faith.

I find hope in people gathering to sing and pray and be together, as well as offer meeting spaces for community groups, food pantries and thrift stores, volunteers and dedicated leaders who hold that hope in escrow for the rest of us.

And, like Mary, I find hope for the coming of the kindom through God-with-us in Jesus, and the world of care and belonging he invites us to co-create. Mary knew. Do we?

The Rev. Dr. Chris Davies is the executive minister of Programs and Initiatives at the Southern New England Conference of the United Church of Christ. She lives in western Massachusetts, and witnesses hope in action at UCC churches in many towns across the Valley and beyond. You can learn more at www.findhopenow.org, or connect with Rev. Dr. Chris at jesuslovesdinos.bsky.social.