JOY: Advent 3, 2024

JOY: Advent 3
Sunday, December 15, 2024:
Isaiah 61.1-11, Luke 4.16-21

“In the Christian tradition,” writes Walter Brueggemann, “Christmas is the rebirth of the new governance.”

And that’s why, in this third week of Advent, we get Luke 4, which takes us back to Isaiah 61:

The LORD’s spirit is upon me

as the LORD has anointed me

to bring good tidings to the poor,

to bind up the broken-hearted,

to proclaim freedom to the captives,

to the prisoners, release,

to proclaim a year of favor for the LORD

and a day of vengeance for our God,

to comfort all who mourn.

“It is no wonder that the angels sang,” writes Brueggemann.

The angels aren’t the only ones singing in Luke’s Gospel. There’s also Mary’s Magnificat, Zechariah’s Canticle, and the Nunc Dimittis of Simeon.

“The songs,” writes Brueggemann, “are about promises being kept just when all the promises appear to have failed.”

And notice that the singing helps bring about the revolution of epistemology we talked about last week, bypassing the overly rational parts of our brain to connect to our very souls: “It will not be explained but only sung about. … It comes to those who will settle for amazements they can neither explain nor understand.”

And this is dangerous to the privileged and powerful: “The song releases energy that the king can neither generate nor prevent. … Tongues long dumb in hopelessness could sing again.”

Can we learn to sing this new song with joy? 

Will we embrace God’s Jubilee, or will we see it as a threat to our privilege?

That is the question.

Let It Come Like Wildflowers: ADVENT 2

 ADVENT WEEK 2: PEACE

“Wildpeace,” by Yehuda Amichai (translated by Chana Bloch)

Not the peace of a cease-fire,

not even the vision of the wolf and the lamb,

but rather

as in the heart when the excitement is over

and you can talk only about a great weariness.

I know that I know how to kill,

that makes me an adult.

And my son plays with a toy gun that knows

how to open and close its eyes and say Mama.

A peace

without the big noise of beating swords into ploughshares,

without words, without

the thud of the heavy rubber stamp: let it be

light, floating, like lazy white foam.

A little rest of the wounds —

who speaks of healing?

(And the howl of the orphans is passed from one generation

to the next, as in a relay race: 

the baton never falls.)

Let it come

like wildflowers,

suddenly, because the field

must have it: wildpeace.

PEACE: Advent 2, 2024

PEACE: Advent 2
Sunday, December 8, 2024:
Joel 2.1-17

Who knows? As Walter Brueggemann notes, this is a common phrase in Hebrew (mi yodea) scriptures, including in Joel 2.14, used to express the finitude of our existence.

We look around, both at the natural world and at our social world, and there is so much we don’t understand. Sometimes, we are filled with wonder and awe. At other times, we are perplexed and full of doubt. So much lies beyond our comprehension.

And for many, this state of affairs brings great anxiety, for as Brueggemann observes, “the human quest for certitude is unquenchable.”

The American response to our human finitude, Brueggemann argues, is denial – and a quest to overcome our limitations by putting faith in education and expertise. He calls this an “epistemology of privilege,” by which he means that the “privileged know best.”

Brueggemann argues that “the Bible is essentially a revolution in epistemology that challenges the top down assumption of an epistemology of privilege.”

In our text, Joel brings a message of apocalyptic judgment. But a word of mercy and grace comes in verses 12-13:

And now, …turn back to the LORD your God,
for he is gracious and compassionate,
Slow to anger and abounding in kindness
And relenting over evil.

The comes the kicker (verse 14):

Who knows? He may once more relent.

The question for us today is whether we will continue to cling to our privilege and try to save ourselves – or whether we will turn back to the LORD and find peace in his grace and mercy.

Who knows what we will do? 

But we can be confident in our God.

That's Not What Ships Are For: ADVENT 1

ADVENT WEEK 1: HOPE

"Ships," by Tom Kimmel & Michael Lille

All is quiet on the water
And the wind across the sand
Whispers through our quarters
That the morning’s close at hand

Our love’s in perfect order
As we fold our sails in sleep
But the moon is falling starboard
And we have promises to keep

chorus:
We rest here while we can
But we hear the ocean calling in our dreams
And we know by the morning
The wind will fill our sails to test the seams
A calm is on the water
And part of us would linger by the shore
For ships are safe in harbor
But that’s not what ships are for

So we head for open water
Set a course for distant land
Out here there are no borders
And the truth is in the chance

We fill our sails with purpose
Find direction in the stars
Pray the dark and deep won’t hurt us
And sail with open arms

chorus:
We rest here while we can
But we hear the ocean calling in our dreams
And we know by the morning
The wind will fill our sails to test the seams
A calm is on the water
And part of us would linger by the shore
For ships are safe in harbor
But that’s not what ships are for

Ships are safe in harbor
But that’s not what ships are for

_____
words & music Tom Kimmel & Michael Lille
©1994 Marada Music/Drala Music (admin. by Criterion Music Corp.)/Global Music (admin. by Chrysalis Music)(ASCAP)

When Hope & History Rhyme: ADVENT 1

ADVENT WEEK 1: HOPE

from “The Cure at Troy,” by Seamus Heaney

Human beings suffer

They torture one another,

They get hurt and get hard.

No poem or play or song

Can fully right a wrong

Inflicted and endured.

The innocent in gaols

Beat on their bars together.

A hunger-striker’s father

Stands in the graveyard dumb.

The police widow in veils

Faints at the funeral home.

History says, Don’t hope

On this side of the grave…

But then, once in a lifetime

The longed-for tidal wave

Of justice can rise up,

And hope and history rhyme.

So hope for a great sea-change

On the far side of revenge.

Believe that a further shore

Is reachable from here.

Believe in miracles

And cures and healing wells.

Call miracle self-healing:

The utter, self-revealing 

Double-take of feeling.

If there’s fire on the mountain

Or lightning and storm

And a god speaks from the sky

That means someone is hearing

The outcry and the birth-cry

Of new life at its term.

It means once in a lifetime 

That justice can rise up

And hope and history rhyme.

HOPE: Advent 1, 2024

HOPE: Advent 1

Sunday, December 1, 2024
Daniel 6.1-27

Although we don’t always acknowledge it, the Bible is full of humor. One common form of humor comes from making fun of powerful empires and revealing their impotence. And our Old Testament reading today is one such example.

The author of the Book of Daniel presents an almost comical view of King Darius of Persia. Here, Darius, possibly the most powerful man in the world, is rendered utterly powerless by bureaucratic red tape.

The “deep state” has conspired against Daniel and found a legal loophole to snare the Jewish prophet. Darius is offended – verse 15 literally reads, “it was very evil for him” – and tries to save Daniel.

But, alas, his hands are tied.

Not only have the government bureaucrats written a royal decree themselves, but it's a decree that not even the king can reverse.

How ridiculous!

And so Daniel is thrown into the lions’ pit.

Fortunately for Daniel, “there is an alternative to the unchanging laws of the Medes and Persians,” argues Walter Brueggemann.

It’s fortunate for us, too, for we too have been thrown into the pit of despair by a status quo that cannot be reversed.

But there is good news, for as Brueggemann observes, “There is something inherently revolutionary about this God!”

When the King has no power to change the course of events, we can have hope because our God is with us in the pit – with justice and righteousness, steadfast love, truth and mercy – to keep us safe from the lions.

Thanks be to God.