Lectionary Notes: November 2005 Archives

Lectionary Texts for December 11, the Second Sunday of Advent, Year B

Rob and I just started working through a book of meditations called The Advent of Justice by Brian Walsh, Richard Middleton, Mark Vander Vennen and Sylvia Keesmat (you can obtain it here, if you're interested). The meditation for the first Sunday of Advent by Walsh included some reflection on Isaiah's historic context:

Isaiah's ministry began during the prosperous reign of King Uzziah in Jerusalem. In fact, during Uzziah's reign Judah's power and prosperity was second only to the era of David and Solomon. Although the political map was in a constant process of change...the mood in Jerusalem remained one of satisfied safety. After all, Jerusalem is the city of David! With the Davidic king on his throne and God in the Temple, what evil could possibly befall us? What do we have to wait for? All that we could possibly want is already here. Since we have a secure covenant with the God of Israel, we have already arrived, and the proof of that arrival is in our prosperity. Who needs an Advent when the promises are already fulfilled?

Enter Isaiah with an astonishingly different reading of his times. Judah has arrived? Well, if being critically ill is your idea of arrival then yes, Judah has indeed arrived. In this opening prophecy, Isaiah cuts through the self-satisfaction of prosperity and the pretentiousness of Judah's putting trust in the covenant. He describes Judah as a body of bruises, sores and bleeding wounds. At a time when Judah understands herself to be secure in her borders, Isaiah paints a picture of aliens devouring the land and of a besieged city.

Why? Why does Isaiah see destruction and collapse where others see a secure and prosperous city? Because Isaiah knows that personal and cultureal life that no longer "waits" for Gods reign, because it thinks that that reign has already been realized, is in fact on the path of death. When covenantal life has been structured to serve the interests of the rich at the expense of the poor, then this is in fact a covenant with death.

I find it very helpful to understand the context in which Isaiah lived as one way of situating the season of Advent within the Church year.

There are so many contrasts and reversals happening in these texts and in this season. The humble are exalted, the rich sent away empty, the mighty cast down from their thrones, the sorrowful restored to laughter, the captive liberated, the unjust judged and the devastated restored. These themes are especially reflected in the Isaiah text, the Psalm and the Magnificat for the second Sunday of Advent.

This theme echoes the mention in the lectionary notes for the first Sunday of Advent of David Dark's emphasis on the coming of Christ as good new for all people, except those whose power it interrupts. For those in Jerusalem who were content in their prosperity, there was no need for a prophet or a Messiah. However, for those who seem not to be the benefactors of national success--the oppressed, the captive, the brokenhearted, the mourners, the powerless--the prophet brings Good News of deliverance, in which the oppressors will receive "their recompense." Isaiah upsets the assumptions of the comfortable in his own time and ought to still upset us now.

The parallels between Isaiah's time/place and our own are strong. Led by a pseudo-religious political spirit, we are too easily convinced that our national prosperity is the result of virtue and begin to pursue the pinnacle of our own achievement instead of being chastened by the words of our prophets: repent for your sins against God and against one another. A new age is on the horizon and we are called to active, expectant waiting.

Who are the prophets among us today? Who is pointing the way to Christ with words and life? Paul's admonition is still applicable: "Do not [suppress] the Spirit. Do not despise the words of the prophets, but test everything; hold fast to what is good." Are we testing the spirits of our age with hearts genuinely rejoicing, prayerful, grateful and sanctified for God's sake? Or have pride and self-interest formed an impenetrable crust of self-preservation around our hearts that renders forgiveness archaic and change impossible?

The waiting that Advent reminds us to engage in takes place in constant relationship and transformation. In humility, we approach the throne of God again and again, asking for the courage to stand directly in the path of the runaway train of injustice believing that the one who calls us is faithful and is making all things right. We ask for openness to the Spirit and long for the promised flourishing of righteousness that will match the overflow of our hearts with love for I AM.

Lectionary Texts for December 4, the Second Sunday of Advent

Mark begins his gospel by making a connection between Isaiah's prophecy and the person of John the Baptist. But John has a message for all people, then and now: "Prepare the way of the Lord; make his paths straight."

The texts for this day all have themes of preparation, of action in the present with a view to the future. In our human experience, time is linear and we have very specific responsibilities for the present: repent, "strive to be found by him at peace," "lift up your voice...do not fear." While there are promises we long for (or ought to long for--oneness with God in eternity), we must not focus on those promises to the point that we are paralyzed for action in the present. For oneness with God is a reality for those who learn to serve God now; the reward is the desire of our hearts. From Isaiah:

his reward is with him,
and his recompense before him.
He will feed his flock like a shepherd;
he will gather the lambs in his arms,
and carry them in his bosom,
and gently lead the mother sheep.

Isaiah, Peter and John the Baptist's messages to the people are not timebound. Rather, they guide the cultivation of an Advent spirit in all people at all times. In fact, Peter literally asks the question, "What sort of persons ought you to be in leading lives of holiness and godliness, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God?" What does it mean to "prepare the way of the Lord"?

If we believe in the promise of "new heavens and a new earth" as the full and final realization of God's Kingdom, then perhaps making the path straight implies the immediate cultivation of a Kingdom reality--that is, striving for just economic policies, seeking unity while respecting difference in the Church, creating buildings that are beautiful and stewardly, affirming the dignity and worth of each creature, and so on. Likewise, John does not wait for the birth of Christ to call for repentance, baptize in the Lord's name and announce the Holy Spirit.

There is something amazing happening here that I can't quite wrap my mind around, but I feel at peace with its mystery. It's the perfect circular tension between measurable time and eternity, between preparation and experience. In the season of Advent we re-anticipate the historic event of the incarnation of God while also acknowledging our in-between place in time, which has many parallels.

December lectionary notes from Sojourner's Magazine

Lectionary Texts for November 27, 2005: The First Sunday in Advent

At a conference this past weekend at Messiah College, one of the workshops we attended was led by David Dark. Dark related that, while most people around him growing up were afraid of the Russians, he was terrified of the second coming. What would happen to all of the people he knew who hadn't accepted Jesus? He didn't want eternal damnation for his friends, so he had to buy some time. Then, he came up with a clever plan to address his fear: since "about that day or hour no one knows," humans ought to organize a vigil. Every minute of every day, someone should be assigned the task of expecting the second coming. That way, it would never happen and we'd have more time to get people saved!

I must confess: I had the same idea.

The general impression Christians give, intentional or not, is that the coming of Christ is something of which we ought to be terrified. But I believe this is a response of unfaith. If we look at these passages, we worship a God who strengthens us, who is faithful, who calls us into fellowship, who "meets those who gladly do right."

As Dark pointed out in his workshop, the Gospel is Good News for all people, except those whose power it interrupts. The end of a war is good news for all people except those whose corrupt power doesn't exist anymore. The coming home of the master is anticipated joyfully by those who are obedient and joyful about their task, but feared by those whose self-interest is manifested in laziness and abuse of power. However (and this is important), the Gospel is still Good News even for those who are corrupt if they are willing to enter into community and live at peace with all people, which means giving up the idol of self.

Another misconception I think many have in reading passages such as these is to believe that the coming of the Kingdom of God is something in the future. [Thank you to David Recher for reminding me of this so eloquently.] But is not the leafing out of the fig tree occurring already in the church at Corinth, as believers grow in faith in community with one another? The judgment of faith and unfaith, of righteousness and unrighteousness, of justice and injustice, is occurring now, as we live and bear (or don't bear) fruit. Doesn't Isaiah say that God has "delivered us into the hand of our iniquity"? He is not speaking of a future when we all line up for our sentences; he is speaking of immediate consequences for wrong living.

Here are a couple of other themes I found interesting:

• The reversal in fig tree imagery: In Mark 11: 12-14, Jesus curses a fig tree for not bearing fruit. However, in this passage, he refers to new life in a fig tree that promises summer and fruit. Is this reflective of love's power to save even the most "unfruitful" of the human trees? When we think of evil people, we think of Hitler or Stalin; the Son was born, died and raised--the Kingdom comes--even for people we find despicable. Indeed, the Good News is for the whole human community.
• The contrast of darkness and light: A time of total darkness will give way a time of total light, perhaps tied into the reference to "summer," a season of light. Advent, being "the season of light" is the time we dedicate to renewing our anticipation for the coming of God to earth. There is also the reference in Isaiah to the coming of God being "as when fire kindles brushwood." Perhaps the service could include an opportunity to light candles representative of prayers of transformation, prayers that God would transform us as a community to fulfill our respective tasks well, creating light in the darkness. Ironically, but appropriately, the season of Advent comes as we enter into winter, which is in our hemisphere a time of darkness.

Lectionary Notes from Sojourner's

Lectionary Texts for November 20, Christ the King Sunday

This Gospel text is an interesting passage to come after our last adult Sunday school discussion at St. John's. I think it was said a couple of times in a couple of different ways that we shouldn't be generous to benefit ourselves, but to benefit others. But can't we take this a step further? We shouldn't be giving to benefit ourselves, or even--ultimately--others, but in the service of God who is revealed to us in Jesus Christ. Because, as Paul said in last week's passage and as Jesus reveals in this week's, what we do for others in need we do for Christ.

A question that arises in my mind then is, given the surprise of the "sheep" at being told they served Christ by serving others, can a person serve Christ without realizing it? Is someone who has rejected the Church for whatever reason still serving Christ when he or she sacrifices self to serve others? It seems to me that there are only two distinct categories in this story--those who served others and those who didn't--while popular theology and eschatology seems to assume four categories: those who

1. know Christ and serve others,
2. know Christ and don't serve others,
3. don't know Christ and serve others and
4. don't know Christ and don't serve others.

Are those in category #1 the only ones who will sit at the right hand of God or is the story saying that, no, there are only two categories, that it doesn't matter if you name Christ--you serve him practically through service to others?

This question has broad implications for our approach to interfaith dialogue and efforts and the ways in which we identify our "faith" community. Eberhard Arnold, founder of the Bruderhof Communities, wrote in the early 20th century, "When someone is driven by love in any way, he or she is driven by Christ. Whoever has love, has the love of God, even if he or she does not confess Christ in words. There is a hidden Christ; he is much too great to be confined by human thought." A later writing by Bruderhof senior pastor Johann Christoph Arnold inspired the following related questions and thoughts by an unnamed author:

Is [Christ], as some theologians say, the western face of God, or is he, as others say, truly God incarnate? I believe the latter, and it seems Arnold does too. But then where does that leave the Muslim?

My thinking about Islam over the years has shifted from mere curiosity to hostility to acceptance. I now tend to feel that Muslims are Christians who simply don't know it yet—in other words, my brothers, for whom Christ also died.

Read the full article, "Is the Muslim my brother?"

These questions and thoughts are perhaps a bit different from what the focus will be in the context of our current fall stewardship campaign, but I also think they have relevance for our attitude toward serving in solidarity with people of other beliefs and faiths. The emphasis in this passage is not on right theology, but on the faithful response that occurs out of the overflow of the heart. Perhaps the brother who says he will not be obedient, but then it obedient anyway will be looked upon with more favor than the one who says he will be obedient, but then is not. Serving God in practice is a faith response that some people commit to in spite of their inability to accept the name of Christ.

With the "unnamed" author of the article cited above, I am probably in danger of being called a heretic for proposing these ideas. But what is the alternative to believing that all acts of genuine love proceed from God?

Here are the lectionary notes from Sojourner's for November, if they're of any interest to anyone.

Lectionary texts for November 13, the Twenty-Sixth Sunday After Pentecost

For these notes, I'll link to my current editorial, where I've sort-of-organized most of my thoughts, focusing on the Gospel lesson.

I'm not entirely satisfied with it as an editorial, but that's what happens when I'm pushing the midnight publishing deadline--something that definitely has to change.