Matthew 1:18-24
This is how the birth of Jesus the Messiah came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.
But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”
All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means “God with us”).
When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife.
An old rabbi’s tale says that a common man, walking down a road one day, encountered a stranger. When the man asked the stranger about his plans, the stranger identified himself as the Messiah and said he was going into the town to reveal himself to the people there. The common man gasped, and begged the Messiah not to show himself. When asked why, the man replied, “The people are not expecting you. No one is ready. And if you appear now, they will all miss you. Wait until the people anticipate your coming.”
One version of the story says that for the rest of his life, the common man hardly slept or ate at all, as he vigilantly kept watch for the Messiah’s appearance.
Constant vigilance is difficult. Living in perpetual readiness is exhausting. I’m wondering today, in the context of Matthew’s Gospel, if God has searched and searched for any persons who anticipate Messiah’s coming . . . and found only two: Joseph and Mary.
Luke reports Mary’s story, while Matthew tells the tale from Joseph’s side . . . visions, dreams, and visitations from heavenly messengers, leading to the birth of the Promised One, Emmanuel, God-with-us. As one of my friends likes to say, the incarnation simply means God con carne – God with meat (flesh) on – living among us.
Joseph and Mary open the door of their lives, willing to receive this gift, willing to bear this promise within themselves, willing to accept the cultural ridicule that would surely come their way. In the context of the rabbi’s tale, these two simple souls are the model of readiness for Messiah’s coming.
• As Christmas Eve and Christmas Day nears, identify within you pockets of hope and anticipation. Where does God’s dream still reside within you?
• Also, identify within you pockets of cynicism, doubt, and pessimism . . . perhaps related to a relationship . . . a larger community issue . . . or a matter of justice in the larger context of the nation or world.
• Bring whatever you notice within you into your prayer today.
Showing posts with label coming. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coming. Show all posts
Sunday, December 22, 2019
Sunday, December 2, 2018
First Sunday of Advent -- December 2, 2018
Stepping into Advent
Jeremiah 33:14-16
Luke 21:25-28, 34-36
The season of Advent invites us home to our deeper selves as we move toward the celebration of Jesus' birth. We move through the days mindfully. The Advent journey unfolds within each of us as we step with intention toward Bethlehem. As the saints have reminded us consistently across the centuries, it matters little that Jesus was born to Mary in Bethlehem 2,000 years ago if he is not born anew in our hearts today.
Thus, the early readings in the Advent season begin soberly, reminding us of the state of the world and of the ongoing work of mercy that is God's chief work in the world.
In a theme that will come up often in the Advent readings, Luke's Gospel today is careful to remind us that we must be careful, keep watch, and have a heightened sense of readiness for what God is doing in the world. Otherwise, we will miss it.
One of the Zen Masters advocated living each day and each hour in the same frame of mind as a person falling off a horse. The person falling from a horse has no time to obsess about the past, no time to beat herself up about who she is or where she is, no time for regret. Nor does she have a thought for the shape of the future. There is no time to look around to see how other people are falling (or not falling), or to see how her fall compares to their fall.
In fact, the person falling instinctively gives his or her full attention to that very moment, to the split second in which they are living. The moment is intense, focused, and calls for the person's full attention.
Such intensity sounds intimidating. Who can sustain that kind of heightened awareness? Yet, our spiritual teachers -- Jesus foremost among them -- have consistently called for us to stay awake, to be ready, to pay attention. In many ways, this kind of heightened awareness is the heart of the spiritual life . . . and this is also the area in which we most need assistance.
For Reflection:
In your prayer and reflection, explore what it means for you to "pay attention" today. Have a conversation with God about having a heightened awareness. Or write out your thoughts as if you were writing a note to God.
Then at the end of the day, check in with yourself. How did you do in paying attention over the past 24 hours? What did you notice? As you reflect over the day, be sure you do so without judging yourself. There is no failure, no shame involved in the exercise. You are simply asking God for the grace to see what is, not beat yourself up for what you missed.
Jeremiah 33:14-16
Luke 21:25-28, 34-36
The season of Advent invites us home to our deeper selves as we move toward the celebration of Jesus' birth. We move through the days mindfully. The Advent journey unfolds within each of us as we step with intention toward Bethlehem. As the saints have reminded us consistently across the centuries, it matters little that Jesus was born to Mary in Bethlehem 2,000 years ago if he is not born anew in our hearts today.
Thus, the early readings in the Advent season begin soberly, reminding us of the state of the world and of the ongoing work of mercy that is God's chief work in the world.
In a theme that will come up often in the Advent readings, Luke's Gospel today is careful to remind us that we must be careful, keep watch, and have a heightened sense of readiness for what God is doing in the world. Otherwise, we will miss it.
One of the Zen Masters advocated living each day and each hour in the same frame of mind as a person falling off a horse. The person falling from a horse has no time to obsess about the past, no time to beat herself up about who she is or where she is, no time for regret. Nor does she have a thought for the shape of the future. There is no time to look around to see how other people are falling (or not falling), or to see how her fall compares to their fall.
In fact, the person falling instinctively gives his or her full attention to that very moment, to the split second in which they are living. The moment is intense, focused, and calls for the person's full attention.
Such intensity sounds intimidating. Who can sustain that kind of heightened awareness? Yet, our spiritual teachers -- Jesus foremost among them -- have consistently called for us to stay awake, to be ready, to pay attention. In many ways, this kind of heightened awareness is the heart of the spiritual life . . . and this is also the area in which we most need assistance.
For Reflection:
In your prayer and reflection, explore what it means for you to "pay attention" today. Have a conversation with God about having a heightened awareness. Or write out your thoughts as if you were writing a note to God.
Then at the end of the day, check in with yourself. How did you do in paying attention over the past 24 hours? What did you notice? As you reflect over the day, be sure you do so without judging yourself. There is no failure, no shame involved in the exercise. You are simply asking God for the grace to see what is, not beat yourself up for what you missed.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
The Third Wednesday of Advent -- December 14, 2011
Luke 7:18 - 23
John’s disciples told him about all these things. Calling two of them, he sent them to the Lord to ask, “Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?”
When the men came to Jesus, they said, “John the Baptist sent us to you to ask, ‘Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?’”
At that very time Jesus cured many who had diseases, sicknesses and evil spirits, and gave sight to many who were blind. So he replied to the messengers, “Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.”
I'm guessing that this passage is included as an Advent reading because of the line, "Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?" Advent is about coming or arrival. So the "one who is to come" is about an arrival, that is, the one adventing among us . . . and John is particularly interested to know if Jesus is this one who was long-expected (the Jewish Messiah), or if someone/something else might be coming to save the people.
"Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?"
Let me offer this question in a contemporary, free translation: "Whose Advent is this? Is it your advent (coming), or does it belong to another?"
In our modern world you can hear all sorts of things this year about what is coming . . . about who or what can save us. We are approaching an election year, after all!
"Elect me. I'll create jobs!"
"I have a plan . . ."
"The more you spend, the better it is for the economy."
Everyone has a solution . . . the President and those who are seeking nomination to run against him . . . agencies and institutions . . . philosophies and idealogies . . . religious groups and social action causes . . . each, in their own way, embody for some people "the one who is to come."
In the Gospels, John seems very disappointed in Jesus, because he did not fit the typical expectations for "the one who is to come."
I wonder how we, too, are let down . . . finding out that Jesus does not share our political outlook . . . or our marriage to capitalism . . . or a work ethic that says, "whatever you have, you've earned" . . . or a nationalism so proud that it turns its back on the little and least.
If we were honest about our expectations, we too might consider walking away from Jesus disappointed. We might be tempted to look for another.
Either that, or take him as he is . . . not as we want him to be.
John’s disciples told him about all these things. Calling two of them, he sent them to the Lord to ask, “Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?”
When the men came to Jesus, they said, “John the Baptist sent us to you to ask, ‘Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?’”
At that very time Jesus cured many who had diseases, sicknesses and evil spirits, and gave sight to many who were blind. So he replied to the messengers, “Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.”
I'm guessing that this passage is included as an Advent reading because of the line, "Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?" Advent is about coming or arrival. So the "one who is to come" is about an arrival, that is, the one adventing among us . . . and John is particularly interested to know if Jesus is this one who was long-expected (the Jewish Messiah), or if someone/something else might be coming to save the people.
"Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?"
Let me offer this question in a contemporary, free translation: "Whose Advent is this? Is it your advent (coming), or does it belong to another?"
In our modern world you can hear all sorts of things this year about what is coming . . . about who or what can save us. We are approaching an election year, after all!
"Elect me. I'll create jobs!"
"I have a plan . . ."
"The more you spend, the better it is for the economy."
Everyone has a solution . . . the President and those who are seeking nomination to run against him . . . agencies and institutions . . . philosophies and idealogies . . . religious groups and social action causes . . . each, in their own way, embody for some people "the one who is to come."
In the Gospels, John seems very disappointed in Jesus, because he did not fit the typical expectations for "the one who is to come."
I wonder how we, too, are let down . . . finding out that Jesus does not share our political outlook . . . or our marriage to capitalism . . . or a work ethic that says, "whatever you have, you've earned" . . . or a nationalism so proud that it turns its back on the little and least.
If we were honest about our expectations, we too might consider walking away from Jesus disappointed. We might be tempted to look for another.
Either that, or take him as he is . . . not as we want him to be.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
The Second Wednesday of Advent -- December 7, 2011
Luke 1:26 - 38
In the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”
Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.”
“How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?”
The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be unable to conceive is in her sixth month. For no word from God will ever fail.”
“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May it be to me according to your word.” Then the angel left her.
This passage draws me toward Mary in a couple of ways. For one, she is one who is graced, who is favored, not because of what she has done, but because of who God is.
That's how grace and favor tend to work, much to our dismay. So much of modern life is built upon what we deserve and what we earn that the notion of grace and favor are totally outside our understanding. Western Christians have a difficult struggle with authentic grace, because it completely eliminates anything that I do to merit or become worthy.
Real grace doesn't preach well in the Church, neither does it sell well, nor does it keep the "faithful" in line. It is too unpredictable, too loose . . . too much initiated from God's side.
But mostly today I'm drawn to verse 31, to the simple statement of Gabriel to Mary: "You will conceive and give birth to a son."
That is the promise of spiritual conception, not only for Mary but for every one of us. In fact, you could probably image the spiritual life as the ongoing process of conceiving and then giving birth to God's life within each one of us. At a very basic, foundational level, that's what life is about. God's life, God's work, God's indwelling is conceived within us . . . and then our lives become about how that life, work and indwelling are birthed in our own life-worlds.
How is God embodied within you and me?
How are our lives expressions of incarnation, as Christ dwells within us?
In the twentieth century, Thomas Merton found some old Advent sermons preached by Bernard of Clairvaux in the 12th century. Merton ran with Bernard's idea that there are three Advents of importance.
The first was the Advent of Christ into human history. This is the past event we remember and celebrate at Christmas.
The third Advent is the coming of Christ at the end of the age. This Advent is still in the future.
It is the second Advent that may be most crucial, according to Bernard and Merton, and it is also the Advent to which we give least attention. This middle Advent is the birth or coming of Christ into our lives and into our world at every moment. Christ is continually coming, constantly being conceived and birthed in our world. We may or may not see and participate in those conceptions and births, but nonetheless they are real and they are all around us.
Perhaps the most compelling invitation for us today would be to hear the invitation to conceive and give birth to Christ in our own life-worlds, to live into the reality of this current-day Advent as a time of God's breaking in, no less than God broke in centuries ago in Bethlehem, and no less than God will break into human history at some time in to future.
In the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”
Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.”
“How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?”
The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be unable to conceive is in her sixth month. For no word from God will ever fail.”
“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May it be to me according to your word.” Then the angel left her.
This passage draws me toward Mary in a couple of ways. For one, she is one who is graced, who is favored, not because of what she has done, but because of who God is.
That's how grace and favor tend to work, much to our dismay. So much of modern life is built upon what we deserve and what we earn that the notion of grace and favor are totally outside our understanding. Western Christians have a difficult struggle with authentic grace, because it completely eliminates anything that I do to merit or become worthy.
Real grace doesn't preach well in the Church, neither does it sell well, nor does it keep the "faithful" in line. It is too unpredictable, too loose . . . too much initiated from God's side.
But mostly today I'm drawn to verse 31, to the simple statement of Gabriel to Mary: "You will conceive and give birth to a son."
That is the promise of spiritual conception, not only for Mary but for every one of us. In fact, you could probably image the spiritual life as the ongoing process of conceiving and then giving birth to God's life within each one of us. At a very basic, foundational level, that's what life is about. God's life, God's work, God's indwelling is conceived within us . . . and then our lives become about how that life, work and indwelling are birthed in our own life-worlds.
How is God embodied within you and me?
How are our lives expressions of incarnation, as Christ dwells within us?
In the twentieth century, Thomas Merton found some old Advent sermons preached by Bernard of Clairvaux in the 12th century. Merton ran with Bernard's idea that there are three Advents of importance.
The first was the Advent of Christ into human history. This is the past event we remember and celebrate at Christmas.
The third Advent is the coming of Christ at the end of the age. This Advent is still in the future.
It is the second Advent that may be most crucial, according to Bernard and Merton, and it is also the Advent to which we give least attention. This middle Advent is the birth or coming of Christ into our lives and into our world at every moment. Christ is continually coming, constantly being conceived and birthed in our world. We may or may not see and participate in those conceptions and births, but nonetheless they are real and they are all around us.
Perhaps the most compelling invitation for us today would be to hear the invitation to conceive and give birth to Christ in our own life-worlds, to live into the reality of this current-day Advent as a time of God's breaking in, no less than God broke in centuries ago in Bethlehem, and no less than God will break into human history at some time in to future.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Christmas Day -- December 25, 2010
Luke 2:1 - 14
In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to their own town to register.
So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.
And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,
“Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”
It doesn't take a lot of room for Christ to be born. I suspect that his birth in the Bethlehem stable is just one example of how he continually squeezes into tight places, or shows up in out-of-the-way settings, or is found among that which is lowly and ill-esteemed rather than what seems significant and worthwhile.
Early witnesses seem to confirm that people were drawn to Christianity in the early centuries not because it was trendy to do so -- it was not -- and not because they wanted to be seen in the church -- most who were seen in the church were ostracized and belittled -- and not because they thought they could get ahead by hanging out with other Christians -- rather than get ahead, they often were beheaded! Persons were drawn to Christianity because Jesus came as a poor child of lowly means among parents of common stock.
He was not a royal king, lording over his subjects with command and self-assurance.
He was not a wealthy landowner with cattle and scores of servants at his beckoning.
He was not a successful entrepreneur who navigated the nuances of business strategies and workplace politics.
Early Christians noted that he was a person's person, a human's human. He filled out completely in his flesh what it meant to live a fully human life. He lived completely into the shape of his life as it was given to him by the Father.
I read a Henri Nouwen vignette years ago in which he wrote about presiding over a Christmas Mass in Central America. After the Mass, an old man approached Nouwen to express appreciation for the Mass. Nouwen deflected the praise and said something about the Christ who was at the center of the Mass. The old man's reply was something like, "Ah yes, the baby Jesus. He was poor and little . . . like us."
That seems to be the message I'm hearing more than any other this Christmas. The baby Jesus, he's poor and little like us. We may think that we're not poor and little. We can convince others and even ourselves that the clothes really do make the man (or the woman) . . . that we're as good as our reputation . . . that we can wear some kind of mask in order to convince others that we're really all together. . . .
But each of us in some way are little and poor. All of us have some kind of lack, some deficiency, some point of need. We cannot give ourselves the very things we most need for full and abundant life. We each live with an inner poverty, a God-sized vacuum that can be filled by nothing and no one else. It is an emptiness that is Christ-sized, a hole that waits and waits for the birthing of Christ within us.
The acknowledgment of that inner poverty is the beginning point to the filling of that emptiness. To acknowledge our real selves, to say with honesty that we are little, poor and in need leads to the richest, most florescent life.
Christ comes small. Humbly. He doesn't need much room to be born. Just a sliver. A crack. A small stable. An open heart. A willing spirit. Someone who believes beyond the nearly seen world.
If you are reading a meditation like this on Christmas Day, I suspect you might be this kind of person. You likely have the kind of heart-space into which Jesus continues to be born. You may be a kind of midwife, helping Jesus be birthed into our world in the lives of other people.
So I pray that on this most holy day, you would create just enough space within the stable of your own heart and spirit for Christ to be born. If enough of us clear a corner of the stable today . . .
In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to their own town to register.
So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.
And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,
“Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”
It doesn't take a lot of room for Christ to be born. I suspect that his birth in the Bethlehem stable is just one example of how he continually squeezes into tight places, or shows up in out-of-the-way settings, or is found among that which is lowly and ill-esteemed rather than what seems significant and worthwhile.
Early witnesses seem to confirm that people were drawn to Christianity in the early centuries not because it was trendy to do so -- it was not -- and not because they wanted to be seen in the church -- most who were seen in the church were ostracized and belittled -- and not because they thought they could get ahead by hanging out with other Christians -- rather than get ahead, they often were beheaded! Persons were drawn to Christianity because Jesus came as a poor child of lowly means among parents of common stock.
He was not a royal king, lording over his subjects with command and self-assurance.
He was not a wealthy landowner with cattle and scores of servants at his beckoning.
He was not a successful entrepreneur who navigated the nuances of business strategies and workplace politics.
Early Christians noted that he was a person's person, a human's human. He filled out completely in his flesh what it meant to live a fully human life. He lived completely into the shape of his life as it was given to him by the Father.
I read a Henri Nouwen vignette years ago in which he wrote about presiding over a Christmas Mass in Central America. After the Mass, an old man approached Nouwen to express appreciation for the Mass. Nouwen deflected the praise and said something about the Christ who was at the center of the Mass. The old man's reply was something like, "Ah yes, the baby Jesus. He was poor and little . . . like us."
That seems to be the message I'm hearing more than any other this Christmas. The baby Jesus, he's poor and little like us. We may think that we're not poor and little. We can convince others and even ourselves that the clothes really do make the man (or the woman) . . . that we're as good as our reputation . . . that we can wear some kind of mask in order to convince others that we're really all together. . . .
But each of us in some way are little and poor. All of us have some kind of lack, some deficiency, some point of need. We cannot give ourselves the very things we most need for full and abundant life. We each live with an inner poverty, a God-sized vacuum that can be filled by nothing and no one else. It is an emptiness that is Christ-sized, a hole that waits and waits for the birthing of Christ within us.
The acknowledgment of that inner poverty is the beginning point to the filling of that emptiness. To acknowledge our real selves, to say with honesty that we are little, poor and in need leads to the richest, most florescent life.
Christ comes small. Humbly. He doesn't need much room to be born. Just a sliver. A crack. A small stable. An open heart. A willing spirit. Someone who believes beyond the nearly seen world.
If you are reading a meditation like this on Christmas Day, I suspect you might be this kind of person. You likely have the kind of heart-space into which Jesus continues to be born. You may be a kind of midwife, helping Jesus be birthed into our world in the lives of other people.
So I pray that on this most holy day, you would create just enough space within the stable of your own heart and spirit for Christ to be born. If enough of us clear a corner of the stable today . . .
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
The Third Wednesday of Advent -- December 15, 2010
Isaiah 45:1 - 8
“This is what the LORD says to his anointed,
to Cyrus, whose right hand I take hold of
to subdue nations before him
and to strip kings of their armor,
to open doors before him
so that gates will not be shut:
I will go before you
and will level the mountains[a];
I will break down gates of bronze
and cut through bars of iron.
I will give you the treasures of darkness,
riches stored in secret places,
so that you may know that I am the LORD,
the God of Israel, who summons you by name.
For the sake of Jacob my servant,
of Israel my chosen,
I summon you by name
and bestow on you a title of honor,
though you do not acknowledge me.
I am the LORD, and there is no other;
apart from me there is no God.
I will strengthen you,
though you have not acknowledged me,
so that from the rising of the sun
to the place of its setting
people may know there is none besides me.
I am the LORD, and there is no other.
I form the light and create darkness,
I bring prosperity and create disaster;
I, the LORD, do all these things.
“You heavens above, rain down my righteousness;
let the clouds shower it down.
Let the earth open wide,
let salvation spring up,
let righteousness flourish with it;
I, the LORD, have created it.
Isaiah 45 is a most unusual chapter. It was written during the time Israelites were in Babylonian exile. The people were captives in a foreign land. Some had given up hope in God's rescue and resigned themselves to life in Babylon. A few, though, held out hope that God would return the people to their home.
[Intermission: In many ways, living in Babylon represents being away from home, away from the place of our deepest belonging, away from where we are most ourselves. Babylon is certainly a geographical description, but it also carries a spiritual meaning for being separated or apart from life and meaning.]
Isaiah 45 is likely the assigned Scripture for today because of the strong emphasis on God coming to rescue the people. God does not idly look on while people are oppressed. God fulfills God's promises, coming into dark and painful life-situations with deliverance and healing. This "coming" is the basic message of Advent.
What is most unusual about this text, though, is that the entire chapter was addressed to Cyrus the Persian. The prophetic words were God's speech intended for a foreign king. Cyrus loomed on the horizon, gathering power and building a strong army just beyond Babylon. In the prophetic consciousness, Cyrus was God's hope for freeing the Israelites and allowing them to go home. In fact, eventually Cyrus would overthrow Babylon and free the Israelites.
The real kicker in the text is that Cyrus did not know God. He did not acknowledge Yahweh. It's not simply that he was a foreigner or an outsider to Israel. He was a foreigner, an outsider who did not know or acknowledge God.
"You do not acknowledge me," (45:4).
"You have not acknowledged me," (45:5).
The text flies in the face of the spiritual sensibilities that are ingrained within us. We assume that God blesses those who worship, pray and live pious lives. We believe God's favor is shown to those who acknowledge God.
Many of us have come to Christian faith because we believed we would get good things for our faithfulness . . . goodies for faith. In fact, sometimes when I ask people in a group or class if they would be a God-follower even if they received nothing in return for their faithfulness, most look at me like I'm crazy. We can't imagine a scenario where goodness isn't rewarded and badness isn't punished.
Yet, with God there is no such thing as a worthiness contest. Notions of worthiness and merit are human frameworks developed to make sense of the world. Ultimately, even they break down. If grace is at the root of everything -- as Scripture claims is the case -- there is nothing we earn, nothing we receive because we're good and someone else is bad.
Read the passage above. Read the rest of Isaiah 45 in your own translation of the Bible. God was extended toward Cyrus in ways that were remarkable.
God called Cyrus the "anointed" one, (45:1).
God opened doors and leveled the path for Cyrus, (45:1, 2).
God gave Cyrus stored-up treasures and riches, (45:3).
God specifically called Cyrus by name, (45:3, 4).
God strengthened Cyrus for the task at hand, (45:5).
Cyrus made no bow of the knee or turn of his heart toward God. He didn't earn or deserve God's favor. In grace and generosity, God extended God's Self toward Cyrus. The dividing line between "sacred" and "profane" became increasingly blurred. It's much more difficult to know who is in and who is out.
As I think about it, Cyrus is a pretty good symbol for you and me this Advent. God comes, and comes in the most outrageous and scandalous ways.
“This is what the LORD says to his anointed,
to Cyrus, whose right hand I take hold of
to subdue nations before him
and to strip kings of their armor,
to open doors before him
so that gates will not be shut:
I will go before you
and will level the mountains[a];
I will break down gates of bronze
and cut through bars of iron.
I will give you the treasures of darkness,
riches stored in secret places,
so that you may know that I am the LORD,
the God of Israel, who summons you by name.
For the sake of Jacob my servant,
of Israel my chosen,
I summon you by name
and bestow on you a title of honor,
though you do not acknowledge me.
I am the LORD, and there is no other;
apart from me there is no God.
I will strengthen you,
though you have not acknowledged me,
so that from the rising of the sun
to the place of its setting
people may know there is none besides me.
I am the LORD, and there is no other.
I form the light and create darkness,
I bring prosperity and create disaster;
I, the LORD, do all these things.
“You heavens above, rain down my righteousness;
let the clouds shower it down.
Let the earth open wide,
let salvation spring up,
let righteousness flourish with it;
I, the LORD, have created it.
Isaiah 45 is a most unusual chapter. It was written during the time Israelites were in Babylonian exile. The people were captives in a foreign land. Some had given up hope in God's rescue and resigned themselves to life in Babylon. A few, though, held out hope that God would return the people to their home.
[Intermission: In many ways, living in Babylon represents being away from home, away from the place of our deepest belonging, away from where we are most ourselves. Babylon is certainly a geographical description, but it also carries a spiritual meaning for being separated or apart from life and meaning.]
Isaiah 45 is likely the assigned Scripture for today because of the strong emphasis on God coming to rescue the people. God does not idly look on while people are oppressed. God fulfills God's promises, coming into dark and painful life-situations with deliverance and healing. This "coming" is the basic message of Advent.
What is most unusual about this text, though, is that the entire chapter was addressed to Cyrus the Persian. The prophetic words were God's speech intended for a foreign king. Cyrus loomed on the horizon, gathering power and building a strong army just beyond Babylon. In the prophetic consciousness, Cyrus was God's hope for freeing the Israelites and allowing them to go home. In fact, eventually Cyrus would overthrow Babylon and free the Israelites.
The real kicker in the text is that Cyrus did not know God. He did not acknowledge Yahweh. It's not simply that he was a foreigner or an outsider to Israel. He was a foreigner, an outsider who did not know or acknowledge God.
"You do not acknowledge me," (45:4).
"You have not acknowledged me," (45:5).
The text flies in the face of the spiritual sensibilities that are ingrained within us. We assume that God blesses those who worship, pray and live pious lives. We believe God's favor is shown to those who acknowledge God.
Many of us have come to Christian faith because we believed we would get good things for our faithfulness . . . goodies for faith. In fact, sometimes when I ask people in a group or class if they would be a God-follower even if they received nothing in return for their faithfulness, most look at me like I'm crazy. We can't imagine a scenario where goodness isn't rewarded and badness isn't punished.
Yet, with God there is no such thing as a worthiness contest. Notions of worthiness and merit are human frameworks developed to make sense of the world. Ultimately, even they break down. If grace is at the root of everything -- as Scripture claims is the case -- there is nothing we earn, nothing we receive because we're good and someone else is bad.
Read the passage above. Read the rest of Isaiah 45 in your own translation of the Bible. God was extended toward Cyrus in ways that were remarkable.
God called Cyrus the "anointed" one, (45:1).
God opened doors and leveled the path for Cyrus, (45:1, 2).
God gave Cyrus stored-up treasures and riches, (45:3).
God specifically called Cyrus by name, (45:3, 4).
God strengthened Cyrus for the task at hand, (45:5).
Cyrus made no bow of the knee or turn of his heart toward God. He didn't earn or deserve God's favor. In grace and generosity, God extended God's Self toward Cyrus. The dividing line between "sacred" and "profane" became increasingly blurred. It's much more difficult to know who is in and who is out.
As I think about it, Cyrus is a pretty good symbol for you and me this Advent. God comes, and comes in the most outrageous and scandalous ways.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
The First Sunday of Advent -- November 28, 2010
Matthew 24:37 - 44
"As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark; and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away. That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left. Two women will be grinding with a hand mill; one will be taken and the other left.
“Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him."
The Gospel reading for the first day of Advent is a call to readiness. To hear it, I first of all have to un-hear it.
In the church of my youth, this passage was used as an evangelism tool. There was even an evangelistic movie that was popular at youth night events which depicted groups of people going about normal, daily activities. Suddenly one person from among the group would disappear. Several scenarios all had the same result: One person, always the "Christian" would disappear, while all the "heathen" youth would remain. The goal of the movie was to scare persons to faith in Jesus. If Jesus came to gather his people, no one wanted to be left behind.
More recently others have traded on those same ideas -- and gotten ridiculously wealthy doing so -- by marketing for the masses passages like this one.
[Intermission: During my college years I asked a youth leader why he felt the need to scare young people to Jesus. It seemed like faulty motivation to me, especially when I saw that a number of those who were "scared to Jesus" didn't "stay with Jesus." His reply was that it was better they get scared to Jesus than not to come to Jesus at all. I contended that being "scared to Jesus" was probably not "coming to Jesus" at all, and made authentic relationship with God even more difficult down the road for these young people. I still believe that.]
So first of all, do what you need to do in order to un-hear this passage. Read it without baggage from your past. Hear it without the whispers of some other Bible interpreter shaping your listening. Just listen to what it says without the interpretive baggage you're carrying with you.
The passage is about preparedness. It affirms the watchfulness and alertness that are inherent in getting ready.
There are different ways to get ready for some event. One is to quit what you are doing and simply wait. Some folks take this track. Through the years as the "second coming" of Jesus has been proclaimed and heeded, persons have quit their jobs and looked to the skies. In the days of my youth I remember the group who stopped working and climbed atop their houses to wait for Jesus, apparently wanting to meet him from the housetops before the rest of us on the ground could greet him.
To sit idle on a housetop or in a field or even at a church's altar is one way to wait and watch.
But another way to wait and get ready is to do what you do, to continue in whatever life is about for you, but to do so with a sense of mindfulness and watchfulness. The tip-off is that in "the days of Noah" persons were engaged in everyday activities, in eating and drinking, marrying and loving, working and tending responsibilities. It is possible to do those things without any sense of mindfulness or watchfulness, and so to miss the advent of Jesus.
The point, though, is that in these very mundane and ordinary life-events the presence of Jesus is experienced. It doesn't necessarily have to be the Bach concert, or the stunning Gothic architecture, or the beach at sunset, or the chorus of "Shout to the Lord."
I believe the Gospel really gets at watchfulness and awareness. They are the spiritual disciplines few people want to talk about. It is difficult to be present where you are to life as it unfolds in you and around you. It takes time and intention to cultivate the capacity to notice and be watchful, to live mindfully.
In fact, I believe that the obsession in some circles with the Second Coming of Christ is a shield to buffer us from the discipline of a daily, moment-by-moment attentiveness to the presence of Christ in the world. It is so much more glorious to envision some grand, heavenly scene accompanied by trumpet blasts and fanfare, angel masses and disappearing Christians. In reality, I think the coming of Jesus is much more subtle, much more ordinary.
Besides, by focusing solely on a glorious second appearance of Christ in our world, we act as if there has been this huge vacuum in our world between his birth and his future mysterious "second coming." While the Christian spiritual tradition insists that he has come and will come, it also does not overlook that he continues coming back into our world at every millisecond. He comes and shapes and creates all things momently. So his Second Coming -- in glory -- may be a pretty big deal, but his 459- gazillioneth coming into our every day is a pretty big deal, too.
So you must be ready. You must watch as you eat, as you talk, as you play. You must be alert. Today, Jesus will come in ways and at times you do not expect him.
"As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark; and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away. That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left. Two women will be grinding with a hand mill; one will be taken and the other left.
“Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him."
The Gospel reading for the first day of Advent is a call to readiness. To hear it, I first of all have to un-hear it.
In the church of my youth, this passage was used as an evangelism tool. There was even an evangelistic movie that was popular at youth night events which depicted groups of people going about normal, daily activities. Suddenly one person from among the group would disappear. Several scenarios all had the same result: One person, always the "Christian" would disappear, while all the "heathen" youth would remain. The goal of the movie was to scare persons to faith in Jesus. If Jesus came to gather his people, no one wanted to be left behind.
More recently others have traded on those same ideas -- and gotten ridiculously wealthy doing so -- by marketing for the masses passages like this one.
[Intermission: During my college years I asked a youth leader why he felt the need to scare young people to Jesus. It seemed like faulty motivation to me, especially when I saw that a number of those who were "scared to Jesus" didn't "stay with Jesus." His reply was that it was better they get scared to Jesus than not to come to Jesus at all. I contended that being "scared to Jesus" was probably not "coming to Jesus" at all, and made authentic relationship with God even more difficult down the road for these young people. I still believe that.]
So first of all, do what you need to do in order to un-hear this passage. Read it without baggage from your past. Hear it without the whispers of some other Bible interpreter shaping your listening. Just listen to what it says without the interpretive baggage you're carrying with you.
The passage is about preparedness. It affirms the watchfulness and alertness that are inherent in getting ready.
There are different ways to get ready for some event. One is to quit what you are doing and simply wait. Some folks take this track. Through the years as the "second coming" of Jesus has been proclaimed and heeded, persons have quit their jobs and looked to the skies. In the days of my youth I remember the group who stopped working and climbed atop their houses to wait for Jesus, apparently wanting to meet him from the housetops before the rest of us on the ground could greet him.
To sit idle on a housetop or in a field or even at a church's altar is one way to wait and watch.
But another way to wait and get ready is to do what you do, to continue in whatever life is about for you, but to do so with a sense of mindfulness and watchfulness. The tip-off is that in "the days of Noah" persons were engaged in everyday activities, in eating and drinking, marrying and loving, working and tending responsibilities. It is possible to do those things without any sense of mindfulness or watchfulness, and so to miss the advent of Jesus.
The point, though, is that in these very mundane and ordinary life-events the presence of Jesus is experienced. It doesn't necessarily have to be the Bach concert, or the stunning Gothic architecture, or the beach at sunset, or the chorus of "Shout to the Lord."
I believe the Gospel really gets at watchfulness and awareness. They are the spiritual disciplines few people want to talk about. It is difficult to be present where you are to life as it unfolds in you and around you. It takes time and intention to cultivate the capacity to notice and be watchful, to live mindfully.
In fact, I believe that the obsession in some circles with the Second Coming of Christ is a shield to buffer us from the discipline of a daily, moment-by-moment attentiveness to the presence of Christ in the world. It is so much more glorious to envision some grand, heavenly scene accompanied by trumpet blasts and fanfare, angel masses and disappearing Christians. In reality, I think the coming of Jesus is much more subtle, much more ordinary.
Besides, by focusing solely on a glorious second appearance of Christ in our world, we act as if there has been this huge vacuum in our world between his birth and his future mysterious "second coming." While the Christian spiritual tradition insists that he has come and will come, it also does not overlook that he continues coming back into our world at every millisecond. He comes and shapes and creates all things momently. So his Second Coming -- in glory -- may be a pretty big deal, but his 459- gazillioneth coming into our every day is a pretty big deal, too.
So you must be ready. You must watch as you eat, as you talk, as you play. You must be alert. Today, Jesus will come in ways and at times you do not expect him.
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