Readings: Jeremiah 33:14-16 Luke 21:25-36
We pray: God of all wisdom and understanding – grant us
ears to hear, minds to apprehend and hearts to respond to your word for us
today and every day – in Jesus name. Amen.
Advent season –
the beginning of the church year guiding us toward the birth of the Christ
child, the joy of family, a sweet time of wide eyed wonder and lovely stories
of (mostly) cute animals and trees decorated with family favourites. It seems somewhat incongruous therefore, to
have as part of the lectionary readings that of the prophet Jeremiah, speaking from
the days of despairing exile for the people of Judah. Yet Jeremiah, says Gary Charles, is an Advent
Singer.
These are Charles’
words:[1]
“The season of
Advent is puzzling to many Christians.
The stories read during this season are, by and large, not childhood
favourites. They have no star in the east
guiding devout magi, no soliloquy of angels stirring the shepherd to to go and see the babe, no harried innkeeper,
no touching moment when Mary ponders these things in her heart.
The stories of
Advent are dug from the harsh soil of human struggle and the littered landscape
of dashed dreams. They are told from the
vista where sin still reigns supreme and hope has gone on vacation. Many prefer the major notes of joy and gladness
in the Christmas stories to the minor keys of Advent.”
What do we mean when
we label Jeremiah an Advent singer? Just
this:
In the midst of
the destruction and despair of exile, despite every sign to the contrary,
Jeremiah tells his people that a day is coming when God’s promised will be
fulfilled. He faces a future with trust
in his God to bring this about. And he
is fighting against the tide of popular opinion.
For it must have
seemed laughable to the people then; an impossible dream in the midst of their current
reality – in much the same way as we
might see the birth of Jesus as a moment of loveliness in an otherwise hopeless
world.
As I said a couple
of weeks ago when we looked at Jesus predicting the destruction of the temple,
things that seem absolutely foundational, cherished ‘forevers’ are imploding
around us – truth turned into falsehood at the highest levels, violence escalating
under the no-rules tactics of terrorism, the very ground we stand on no longer
safe, it feels like creation itself is faltering, going down the gurgler fast. Do we feel a little bit like the people of
the exile? Has despair set in and have we lost the ability to imagine God’s
promised future – locking ourselves away in our theological bunkers waiting for
the end?
Or are we, like
Jeremiah, Advent singers, speaking loudly and clearly of our trust in God, our
understanding deep in our hearts that the birth of this child is and always
will be the sign beyond all doubt of a future beyond our imagining?
Because that is
kind of what Luke is doing as well in his apocalyptic text (no opportunity here
either to rest in the nativity narrative).
But it too is a text full of hope, full of Advent tones, we might say. Assuring us of a future promised by God, Luke
too is challenging us to go beyond our sense of present time, of what is
happening now and place the advent story within the greater story of God’s love
to the end times. Some more words from
Gary Charles on time:
“Advent also
leaves us dizzy over time. Advent is not a steady, constant, ‘time marches on’
kind of time, a persistent drumbeat of day after day, year after year. Advent is unpredictable time, unsteady
time. In this time-tumbling season, we
look for a baby to be born while we know that the baby has already been born,
and still is being born in us – this Emmanuel who came and is coming and is
among us right now. Not only is Advent
not well behaved, neat and orderly; it contorts time. Given the nature of Advent, it is no surprise
that Jeremiah is its herald.”
So what do we take
with us today from these two unlikely readings.
Well I would ask
if we see ourselves as Advent singers, if we have God’s promise written deep on
our hearts that we will not be left alone, we are not abandoned – much as it
might seem to us to be so. That we can turn our faces into a future beyond our
imagining and accept that it as our path even when we don’t know where that
might take us.
I would ask if, as
a people who walk the way of Jesus, our yearning for the world to be a place
where justice and peace and reconciliation between all peoples is founded in
our trust that it will be so. And does
our living, our choosing, our daily demeanour tell the world and our neighbour
that we are passionate believers in an unbelievable world of God’s promise?
I would also want
to ask if we can hold the nativity, the presence of God among us, as the sign
of a God who is deeply attuned to our humanness, who knows need and yearning,
who understands the pain of suffering, of rejection, of ridicule. Not a hands
off God, not a God of exclusion or prejudice or bigotry or apathy but one who
will bring more mercy and justice than even we can imagine.
As we come to the
table today, as we share in the bread and wine, I would ask we remember that
this is not a place of sweet narrative either – it is a table paid for by a
price far too dear and which began with a baby born in a stable….
And I would ask
if, in this time of Advent, our yearning for the birth of the one who is
already here yet is born into our lives again this Christmas is so strong that
we can barely contain ourselves in our waiting – our cries of O come, o come
Emmanuel burst forth from our lips as we anticipate this miracle of God among
us.
I would end with
words from Joy Cowley from her latest book ‘Veil over the light[2]’
and her psalm ‘Advent’
Jesus, you remind
us
that Advent fills
all time
and the journey is
everywhere.
Like the magi, we
travel
from the head to
the heart;
from the city of
learning
to the fields wide
open to the sun;
from the meaning
of words
to the knowledge
beyond them;
from the music
notes on paper
to the sound of
the concerto;
from the smallness
of the manger
to the Love that
holds the universe in being.
Margaret Garland
[2] Joy Cowley Veil
over the Light: selected spiritual writings
Wellington, NZ: Fitzbeck Publishing, 2018 p.164
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