Readings

The optimist thinks this is the best of all possible worlds. The pessimist agrees. So our Isaiah reading: neither optimism nor pessimism, but something else.

We’re familiar with the first part of that reading from Jesus’ reading it in the Nazareth synagogue. We think—rightly—that it’s about Jesus. But not only about Jesus. The Spirit has come upon Jesus to address a particular audience so that “They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations” (emphasis mine). This is why in the Church Year Christmas is the first of the Principal Feasts. The last one: All Saints’. Unless there’s a rich harvest, not much to celebrate.

Are we getting that rich harvest? On the one hand, our cycle of feasts assumes an affirmative answer, as do the commemorations throughout the year in Lesser Feasts and Fasts. Smartphone apps like Day by Day include these, and descriptions of the folk involved can be found at satucket.com. And each of these commemorations is the tip of an iceberg.

Here are two harvest stories, one ancient, one modern. Erich Auerbach in his classic study Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature observes that Greco-Roman literature tended to sort that representation by social class: the nobility could have noble thoughts, act nobly—or tragically. The common folk: fit only for comic relief. Then come the Gospels, in which, for example, the challenge an ordinary fisherman-turned-disciple faces the night of Jesus’ arrest is treated not as a bit of comic relief (what else would you expect from someone still smelling of fish) but with all seriousness. And Western Literature’s never been the same ever since.

One of modernity’s favorite targets is the Christian missionary, e.g., Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible (1998). But if we look at the actual effects of the missionary work that was seeking to make disciples (recall the ending of Matthew’s Gospel), there’s Robert Woodbury’s study “The Missionary Roots of Liberal Democracy” (2012). Woodbury’s statistics establish not simply correlation, but causation. How might that have worked? Well, if I come to believe that Jesus died for all of us, that all of us are sinners, that all of us are called to holiness, then at some point I’m going to wonder why their voice matters and mine doesn’t. Or, to focus on a more prosaic dimension: if you’re translating local languages to produce Bibles in those languages (So my language is important too? So God speaks my language?), if you’re supporting publishers to print those Bibles locally (And what else might they publish?), if you’re promoting literacy among women and men alike, rich and poor alike to folk can read those Bibles (And what else might they read?), whether you intend it or not, you’re creating ground in which liberal democracy can take root and flourish.

Are we getting that rich harvest? On the other hand, down in the trenches we’re hardly in a position to give a reliable answer. So the important question: what do we/I want? “Your kingdom come; your will be done.” Is that what I want? (Advent: not a bad time to wonder what my actions say about what I want.)

If our first reading from Isaiah gives the big picture, our other two readings provide close-ups.

Our Gospel reading features John the Baptist, an Advent mainstay. What’s interesting about John in light of the Isaiah reading is that this healing the world project gives John considerable freedom in dealing with the current authorities. Are you the Messiah, Elijah, the prophet? None of the above. John doesn’t need to fit into one of their boxes—and neither do we. Isaiah’s healing the world project: too serious to assume that it aligns neatly with any of the boxes or political parties currently on offer.

Which brings us to Paul’s advice at the end of his letter to the Thessalonians: “but test everything; hold fast to what is good; abstain from every form of evil.” Paul would have liked that Robert Fulghum quote: “Don’t believe everything you think.”

But what of the beginning (“Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances…”)? Because everything is just fine? No: because God is also engaged. As Joseph put it to his brothers: “Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today” (Gen. 50:20). The news tempts us to write off various situations as godforsaken. Joseph’s story tells us to be careful about that: even in Pharaoh’s dungeon God is at work.

“Rejoice always.” “Rejoice always”? The same Paul who wrote that wrote (to the Romans): “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” Well, which is it, Paul? I think Paul would go with what he (later) wrote to the Romans, for he adds in the next verse “Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are” (Rom. 12:15-16). Suffering is frightening, and it’s often tempting to deal with our fear by trying to explain it, neutralize it, claim to be wiser than we are.

What then of Paul’s “Rejoice always”? The truth there, I think, is that our faith/trust tells us that weeping doesn’t get the last word. Plenty of weeping in the psalms of complaint—precisely to motivate God to act so that this situation turns out to be a comedy and not a tragedy. We don’t rush the transition from weeping to rejoicing. We do recognize that there’s an important difference between weeping without hope and weeping in hope.

Advent is about waiting. Today’s readings remind us that it’s an active waiting. We’re in the middle of a heal-the-world project. We don’t fit easily into the ready-made boxes. (New wine, fresh wineskins.) We don’t skimp on the daily work of testing everything, holding fast to what is good; abstaining from every form of evil. Sometimes we’re rejoicing together; sometimes we’re weeping together. Always we’re straining toward our promised future: “I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my whole being shall exult in my God; for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation, he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.”