Lectionary Readings for Sunday, December 2, 2007

Lectionary Readings for Sunday, December 2, 2007
First Sunday of Advent, Year A

Isaiah 2:1-5
Psalm 122
Romans 13:11-14 and
Matthew 24:36-44

Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
Those two thoughts speak for themselves.

We can paint the story of our lives by glimpsing the connections that lovingly shaped us or the heartbreaking loss of relationship that pointed us another way. We can understand the story by asking what it means, or by remembering the times the floods chaos overwhelmed our lives before its waters revealed that all had not been swept away. Or, we can tell the story by recounting what we did, and what was done to us, by what happened and what failed to happen. But such a story wouldn't be complete without the voice of hope that transcends circumstance as it ebbs and flows, appears and disappears and then appears yet again. Taken together we will find the glimpses, the stories, the hopes, and the happenings to be a blessing. We know this because that is how life speaks.

From time to time both scripture and the church year ask us to rehearse, remember and emphasize life as our central calling. Advent is such a season and this first Sunday of Advent is such a Sunday. When we go to our churches we will find they are not the same as they were last week. The bulletin will have a perhaps worried announcement about upcoming rehearsals for the Christmas pageant. Small churches may wonder if their Wednesday night services during Advent will draw a crowd in such a busy season; mega churches are wondering how many services they will need to offer on Christmas eve. In many churches the altar candles now have companions in a wreath, one of which will be lit. Some will call it the candle of peace; others will call it the candle of hope; still others will say, “In our church when we light the first candle we call it 'Joy.'” Church choirs are wondering when it would be best to carol, and how they will be greeted. In the for what it's worth department our choir found their reception at the Big Timber Bar to be by far the warmest greeting on a cold afternoon.

Advent has returned.

In my heart, and in my imagination, the season's activities, liturgies and scripture readings are wrapped in connection. For Christians, the thought, prospect, and reality of Immanuel, God with us, is perhaps the ultimate connection. When we light advent candles we symbolize God's presence. We will be astonished to learn yet again that there is no room in the inn because the absence of connection is contrary everything we know and expect of life. Connection is one of life's “should be's” and something is wrong when it is refused. We like it when Matthew lets us know angels speak in dreams. We may not have seen them flying in the sky and singing in perfect harmony, but we too have perhaps encountered their voice in dreams and are thankful for the connection with the realm we trust but cannot see.

Now you may say, “I think advent is about hope.” I would say, “Yes, that will work. Or you may say, “There is nothing more proactive than God actually deciding to appear as the Word made flesh, it's all about agency.” I'd again say, “Yes, that's right. No doubt about it.” But each of us has a take on life, that's what coherence is all about. The goal, or sometimes the trick, is to not confuse the cause with life itself. As we do, scripture does indeed have a word for us.

The Lectionary invites us to take “the word that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem” nearly 3,000 years ago to heart.

Isaiah 2:1-5

In days to come
the mountain of the Lord's house
shall be established as the highest of the mountains,
and shall be raised above the hills;
all the nations shall stream to it.
Many peoples shall come and say,
'Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
to the house of the God of Jacob;
that he may teach us his ways
and that we may walk in his paths.'
For out of Zion shall go forth instruction,
and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
He shall judge between the nations,
and shall arbitrate for many peoples;
they shall beat their swords into ploughshares,
and their spears into pruning-hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war any more.

O house of Jacob,
come, let us walk
in the light of the Lord!

There is a poignant and remarkable presence of the plural in the pericope that has found its way into a sculpture that seeks to set a tone for the United Nations, and inspired the writing of the Leading Causes of Life with the hope we might turn our attention away from the study of death and pursue a study of life.

“In days to come,” we note that the word “day” is plural. In the gospel reading Jesus emphasizes what Isaiah saw: “You do not know on which day the Lord will come.” It could be any one of the days ahead of us. Some have pointed out how mistaken the disciples, the early Christians and even Jesus was when they expected it to be one day “soon.” No matter, its very plurality is reassuring. Like those who heard Jesus speak and took enough note of Isaiah's word to save it for future generations, we all await healing and often we want it to happen “now.” But we find it to be a slow dance, and learn it is better to share this dance throughout our lives than it is to fence healing with narrow expectation.

Continuing to work our way through the vision, we soon find that we arel not traveling alone. All nations will travel along with us, many peoples will be with us. Some of them we know, and the chances are that others we might have once preferred not to know. But the over-arching hospitality of God's house is unmistakable. It is utterly different from the world we once knew and conquered in the name of one cause or another. And so it is not surprising that once we arrive there is much to sort through as we receive a class in how to set aside that which has divided us. Having received an invitation we did not deserve, we are perhaps finally ready to receive life's instruction. There is much to learn, there is much to be done. Advent has its Christmas eve services, it has its rituals that shape us and inform our experience as churches and individuals. The assembly of humanity within God's house is not a “Look, Ma, no hands!” experience. Like us it is in need of judgment, in need of arbitration, in need of a faith deep enough and an arm strong enough to beat swords into ploughshares. How ironic that the weapons that once beat other people are beaten themselves into the implements that sustain life.

Not surprisingly, with connection as the lens through which we discern Isaiah's vision, time makes its appearance. First the assembly, then the instruction, then the judgment, then the arbitration, then the surrender of swords, then the smithy that allows for the transformation of weapons into the implements that bless life. Were we to dwell on any one segment, perhaps saying, “This vision is for me and my people,” we might miss that it is for all people. Were we to avoid a word of judgment and the wisdom of divine arbitration, we might be loathe to relinquish our weapons that so effortlessly separate us one from another. Were we to avoid instruction, we would be focused on our own way, our own sense of timing, our own endless set of justifications that make God “nice” but not necessary.

In such a time, and in such a case Advent has a word for us.

“I'm here.”

“I'm here with you.

For me it is a word of connection. Knowing it has never left I am glad for its return. And, I suspect, so are you. After all, this word is for us. Together, as God said to Isaiah, let us walk in the light together.

Larry

I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
Larry@Leadingcausesoflife.org
or
Larrypray@gmail.com