Archetypes of the Accused 5

The Protest Singer

Three songs hold hands across the biblical archive. They're protest songs, full of vengeful rage toward the powers, humming in solidarity with oppressed people everywhere. At one end Miriam chants over the corpses of the Egyptian army who came to take her back into slavery. At the other end is Mary's song, which prays curses upon the Roman colonisers. Between these is the song of Hannah.

Hannah is accused by a priest of being uncouth, drunk and disorderly. She carries the weight of childlessness in a patriarchal environment which values women as child bearers. She is marginalised and shamed, and now gas-list for embodying her grief.

That which the priest, Eli, considers impious and disorderly is received by God as a prayer. In fairness, Eli becomes aware of his misjudgment. Hannah meanwhile does have a child, and then she sings her song, which goes like this:

My mouth derides my enemies

Talk no more so very proudly

The bows of the haughty are broken

But the feeble gird on strength

Those who were full have hired themselves out for bread

Those who were hungry are fat with spoil

The barren has borne seven

But she who has many children is forlorn

YHWH makes poor and rich

Brings low and also exalts

Raises the poor from the dust

Lifts the needy from the ash heap

It's not hard to see here Hannah's anger against her husband's other wife, who had many children and shamed Hannah for having none. But the song reaches beyond her own vindication. It becomes the song of all great reversals: those accused and shamed for being poor delight in the fall of the rich. Those accused and shamed for being powerless rejoice over the fall of those who rule by force.

Hannah's song, like Miriam’s and Mary's, is joyously vengeful. It rings with unambiguous schadenfreude. It rejoices in the reversal of fortunes. The energies of shame and vindication do a rounding dance together. When the accused are accused, primarily because they belong to a marginal and disempowered group, because they are held in sustained identity-based shame, every fibre longs for the messianic vision of the great reversal; for reversals everywhere and for everyone. No song can cut deep enough.

(I find myself reminded of this scene. There is cussing) 

Where is forgiveness? It's not here. That doesn't mean it's nowhere, but it's not here. This is not the moment to moralise. 

The archetype of the protest singer illuminates a truth accessible to most beating hearts. Iniquitous power relations are so much more than mere imbalances calling for a readjustment. They're a grip in the spirit, a fire in the bones, they're snorting horses and a coil of awakening dragons. When the moment arrives, they tip the world. This is a holy thing, too pure for subtlety or balance. Anger is not an ends, but an event, and the event can’t cheaply be bypassed.