FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY

Deuteronomy 18:15-20

Psalm 111

1 Corinthians 8:1-13

Mark 1:21-28

Prayer of the Day: Compassionate God, you gather the whole universe into your radiant presence and continually reveal your Son as our Savior. Bring wholeness to all that is broken and speak truth to us in our confusion, that all creation will see and know your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

“And the unclean spirit, throwing him into convulsions and crying with a loud voice, came out of him.” Mark 1:26.

“Pastor, I think we have evil spirits in our house,” said Carlos. “I hear voices at night calling me to ‘come with us.’ The children say they are seeing ghosts in their rooms. My wife says that there is an old woman watching her from the stairway while she is working in the kitchen, but whenever she goes to the stairs, she disappears. Is there anything you can do to get rid of them?” Carlos and his family were recent immigrants to the United States. In his culture, unlike ours, spirits and demons were not just the stuff of horror movies and occult classics. Our enlightenment skepticism over the supernatural had not penetrated the village in which Carlos grew up. The presence of supernatural evil beings and the mischief of which they were capable was taken for granted.

I took a walk with Carlos and his family over to his house-which was next to the church office. We walked through the house and I said a prayer for each room. I prayed that God would make the kitchen a place of bodily and spiritual nourishment, the living room a place of family togetherness and fellowship, the bedrooms places of sanctuary, refreshment and peace. I even blessed the basement-though I can’t remember what I said about that. Anyway, this is as close as I have ever come to performing an exorcism. No blood curdling scream of departing demons rent the air. For that I am thankful. I don’t know where I would have sent them, there being precious few herds of pigs in northern New Jersey. But I will say that, a week or so later, Carlos told me that he and the family got the best night’s sleep ever after my visit and that the spirits had not been troubling them since. Make whatever you will of that. For my part, I am not convinced that there were evil spirits afoot in Carlos’ house. But I am convinced of God’s power to confer peace where there is anxiety, faith where there is fear and joy in the face of despair.

So what are we to make of the evil spirits Jesus confronts in his ministry? Can we dismiss them as primitive explanations for diseases we now know as epilepsy or certain psychiatric disorders? That would make gospel narratives, such as our lesson for this Sunday, a lot more palatable to our modernist tastes. But I am always suspicious of interpretations that make Jesus more palatable. Moreover, as Lance B. Pape[1] reminds us, the foundational assumptions of modernism are crumbling fast, leading us to question the supposed infallibility of our empirical methodologies. We are slowly coming to the realization that the insights and world views of non-western cultures we enlightenment folk cavalierly dismiss as primitive superstition actually illuminate ecological and cosmic realities our colonialist regimes have neglected to the peril of us all. Hence, while I saw nothing to convince me that there were demons in Carlos’ house, I am too well aware of my cultural blind spots simply to dismiss them.

In his book, The Historical Jesus,[2] John Dominic Crossan discusses the phenomenon of demon possession in the context of colonial domination and military occupation. Citing the work of anthropologist Mary Douglas, Crossan points to her insight that a person’s physical body is a microcosm of the society of which s/he is a member. While the human body is common to us all, our social condition varies. An individual’s body is presented to the individual by instruction through society generally and, more specifically, through education and inculturation by family. It takes little in the way of imagination to understand how a people subjected to military occupation by a hostile power or a colonial government bent on converting its subjects to its religion, values and priorities might begin to view itself as “possessed.” When this powerful dialectic between one’s cultural self understanding and the occupying power’s determination to erase it collide within the microcosm of the oppressive circumstance which is the body, this possession manifests as an individual affliction.

Crossan further points out “the somewhat schizophrenic implications of demonic control: it indicates a power admittedly greater than oneself, admittedly ‘inside’ oneself, but that one declares to be evil and therefore beyond any collusion or cooperation. Yet one must surely, at some level, envy it or at least desire its power in order to destroy it.” p. 314. That goes a long way toward helping us understand the depraved violence serial killers who were frequently victims of abuse as children. It helps to understand the unspeakable violence recently inflicted upon Israeli civilians by Hamas terrorists. How long can a people go on living under a regime that denies their existence as a people, exercises suffocating control over every aspect of their lives and wields lethal power they can never hope to match? Oppression generates hatred and hatred transforms haters into the image of what they hate. When one becomes so thoroughly possessed by the object of one’s hatred, it is hardly surprising to find oneself out among the tombs bruising oneself with stones. How else can you get at this enemy inside you? That is what happens when your enemy manages to “get into your head.”

So now we come to “Trump Derangement Syndrome,” abbreviated “TDS.” The term has mainly been used by Trump supporters to discredit criticism of him. Instead of responding to such criticism, Trump’s supporters resort to ad hominem attacks on the mental stability of his critics. It is a typical “gas lighting technique.” Repeat the lie with consistency and regularity and before long, the hearers cease to doubt your word and instead begin to doubt their sanity. All that being said, I think Fox News & Co. might actually be onto something here. (Even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then.) It is admittedly maddening to view the flagrancy and frequency with which Donald Trump flat out lies about important matters. More maddening still is witnessing the ease with which his lies are accepted, excused and explained away by the Republican party[3] that he owns. Having to hear again and again about the stolen election, the armies of terrorists crossing our borders, the crime rampant in our cities streets, the crashing economy, WOK propaganda in our schools, to say nothing of the Satan worshiping pedophile cult run by Hillary Clinton and George Soros as though all of this malarky were credible-it is enough to make one a little crazy.

But I think that in this respect, us white liberals might finally be getting a little of our own medicine. What we have endured for less than a decade, Black Americans have been living with for centuries. Young black males know the indignity of being pulled over, stopped and frisked and asked to leave high end stores for no good reason. They know, too, the dangers they face should they question or fail to comply. People of color live daily with the awkwardness of being told that they are surprisingly articulate, unusually hard working or amazingly successful-for people of their kind. They learned in school, as did I, that America is a place of limitless opportunity for anyone who studies and works hard. Like me, they studied and worked hard, but unlike me they met with racial profiling, discriminatory hiring practices and limited housing choices. To add insult to injury, they are told repeatedly that such discrimination does not exist. Slavery ended when Lincoln freed the slaves. Jim Crow ended with the civil rights movement. All is now right with the world. People of color are reminded in so many ways that their failures are their fault, that racism is a thing of the past, that the daily indignities they experience are all in their head. In short, they are told that they are deranged.

Though I have a hard time integrating evil spirits into the world as I understand it, I believe in demonic possession. I believe that many of us are possessed by the myth of the “white race” and delusions about its superiority, fears of its being “replaced” and the malevolence of peoples of color. I believe that people of color are injured in body and soul by these ideologies and the systemic oppression they spawn and support. I believe it is possible for these ideologies and the lies upon which they are based to become internalized and make us sick. In extreme cases, they can get so thoroughly ensconced in our heads that they shape our character and drive our conduct. They can drive us to hateful acts of violence toward others. They can also drive us to violence against ourselves. It is no accident, I think, that so many mass shooters wind up killing themselves before they can be apprehended.

I think that individual instances of demonic violence are symptomatic of systemic racial hatred woven into the fabric of American culture. What we need is a collective exorcism. I am hardly an expert on that topic. But here are a few things that seem to be implied by the gospel lesson:

1. Do not let the demons speak. I am all for freedom of expression, meaning that I believe all should be able to preach whatever they wish, however vile or offensive. That, however, does not translate into an obligation on society’s part to build them a pulpit. I was appalled when years ago NPR granted white nationalist leader Richard B. Spencer an interview and an opportunity to spew his sewage over the airwaves. I do not believe we need to remain discretely silent when Uncle Ned pops a racist joke at Thanksgiving dinner. The long discarded pseudoscience of racism, baseless racially charged claims and thinly veiled dog whistling should not be admitted into serious discourse. Spencer needs to be told to preach his garbage in whatever slimy hole he can find enough fellow sewer rats to listen, but that he will not be heard on any reputable media. Uncle Ned needs to be told to shut up or pack his bags and go home.
2. Do not let the demons into your head. We are not Jesus. We cannot cast demonic ideology and racial bigotry out of anyone’s head. If we waste our energies trying to do that, we risk letting the poison of demonic anger and hatred poison us. The only weapon we have is the truth as we know it in Jesus. The Holy Spirit must do the rest. Truth requires only our witness, not our defense. So speak the truth, but do not be drawn into heated arguments. There is nothing to be gained by getting lured down rabbit holes of conspiracy theories, junk science and unsubstantiated claims. There are times when you simply have to say, “I am sorry. But it is obvious you lack the information, conceptual tools and capacity for learning to engage in the sort of discussion you want to have with me.” Do it as unabrasively as you can, but do it firmly and decisively.  
3. Do not confuse the possessed with the demon. Saint Paul reminds us that “we do not contend with flesh and blood.” The devil would have us believe otherwise. The devil would have us at each other’s throats, killing each other and wounding ourselves in a vain effort to get at him. But our fight is with “the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” Ephesians 6:12. The necessity of firmness and resolve toward the evil words and acts of the possessed does absolve us from the duty of love we owe them as neighbors. The Richard Spencers, Donald Trumps and Uncle Neds of the world are as much victims as they are predators. They have been consumed-possessed-by hateful myths and ideologies infecting nations, rulers and governments the world over. These demonic forces have twisted their characters, bent their minds and poisoned their souls. They are in the worst sort of bondage. They need our pity. They need our prayers. They, too, need Jesus.
4. Exorcism begins with me. By now it should be clear that we are all caught up with the spiritual forces of wickedness that infect our government, schools, workplaces and justice system. Those of us who have benefited from racial injustice and exploitation built on the foundation of white supremacy and privilege need all the help we can get to extradite ourselves and begin dismantling the machinery of oppression. As a member and minister of one of the whitest churches in the United States, I count myself among this number. Saint Peter reminds us that “judgment is to begin with the household of God.” I Peter 4:17. So, too, does exorcism.

According to the gospels, casting out demons was central to Jesus’ ministry and a task entrusted to his disciples. Demonic forces are no less real today than they were in the First Century and so the commission to cast them out is no less urgent. The disciple’s task might aptly be described in the words of poet Sonia Sanchez as “hold[ing] oneself like a sliver to the heart of the world, to interrupt if necessary the rhythm of the world, to upset if necessary the chain of command but…to stand up to the world…do battle for the creation of a human world that is a world of reciprocal recognition.” Below is the poem in full.

Progress Report

In this country

where history and herstory stretches

in aristocratic silence,

our Black, white, brown activists

have come at the beginning

of the twenty-first century carrying

the quiet urgency of a star.

 And the country is not the same.

i say, who are these people singing down

the lids of the cities with color?

i say, i say, who are these people always

punctual with their eyes, their hearts, their hands?

i say, i say, i say, who are these

singers who resurrect summer

language on our winter landscape?

They remind each other

of what Fann said: “what is needed is to hold

one’s life like a sliver to the heart of the world, to

interrupt if necessary the rhythm of the world, to

upset if necessary the chain of command but…

to stand up to the world; I do battle for the

creation of a human world that is a world of

reciprocal recognition.”

What does honor taste like?

Does honor have a long memory?

What is the color of honor?

Jose Marti wrote: “in the world there must

be a certain degree of honor just as there must be

a certain amount of light. When there are many men

without honor, there will always be some others who

bear in themselves the honor of many men.”

i turn the corner

 of these honor-driven activists

find memory beneath their doors

taste the blessings of their midwifery

their miracle songs giving birth

to un-ghosted wounds

their words coming to us

glittering like silver stars,

and I catch them in mid-flight,

swallow them whole.

i say, behold our sisters and brothers

questioning the flesh of national monuments

peeling them down to waste of bones.

i say, behold our sisters and our brothers

shaking dew from their eyes, as they remember

Brother Floyd’s last words:

i can’t breathe, i can’t breathe, i can’t breathe…

And we greet him,

his body submerged with no air

and we anoint his eyes

with ancestral light

and we breathe…     

Source: The 1619 Project, edited by Nicole Hannah-Jones (c. 2021 by New York Times Co.; pub. by Penguin Random House) p. 479-480. Sonia Sanchez (born Wilsonia Benita Driver in 1934) is an American poet, writer and professor. She is a leading figure in the Black Arts Movement. Sanchez has written several books of poetry. She has also authored short stories, critical essays, plays and children’s books. She received Pew Fellowship in the Arts in 1993. In 2001 she was awarded the Robert Frost Medal for her contributions to American poetry. You can read more about Sonia Sanchez and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

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[1] The Scandal of Having Something To Say, Pape, Lance B. (c. 2013 pub. by Baylor University Press).

[2] Crossan, John Dominic, (c. 1991; pub. by HarperCollins Publishers).

[3] Please don’t tell me that Trump’s base is not all there is to the Republican party. There is little doubt that, criminal conviction or no, he will be the party’s presidential nominee. And there is less doubt that, as they have done every single time, the rest of the Republican leadership, including those who offered tepid criticism of him, will kneel to kiss his ring. For more on that, see “Unmasking the Republican Party.”

THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY

Jonah 3:1-5, 10

Psalm 62:5-12

1 Corinthians 7:29-31

Mark 1:14-20

Prayer of the Day: Almighty God, by grace alone you call us and accept us in your service. Strengthen us by your Spirit, and make us worthy of your call, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

“When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it.” Jonah 3:10.

The old RSV version of the Bible translates the Hebrew verb, “Nacham” as “repent” rather than to “change one’s mind” as is the case in NRSV. Perhaps the translators were concerned that, because the common understanding of repentance is so closely identified with sorrow over one’s sins, associating it with an act of God might create confusion in the minds of readers. Whatever the merits of the NRSV’s interpretive decision, I think the old RSV got it right. God repented of God’s intent to punish Nineveh for its many sins. The biblical word “Nacham,” it should be noted, has many shades of meaning. But in this case, according to my lexicon, it means to “to be sorry, suffer grief or repent of one’s own doings.”[1]

No matter which translation you choose, however, for many believers such language is clearly problematic. Many believers have learned, as I did in Sunday School and confirmation, that God is not only perfectly infallible, but “omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent.”[2] So if God is infallible, how can God make a decision that God later regrets and must reverse? If God is omniscient, how could God not know in advance that the Ninevites would repent at the preaching of Jonah and that its destruction would not be required-unless Jonah’s dire warning was merely an idle threat God knew would bring about the necessary response. But then God would not really be repenting or changing God’s mind as the text clearly states that God does. Furthermore, Jonah would be justified in feeling that he had been “used” by God who gave him a word that God knew would not come to pass. Theologians, including such great minds as Augustine and Aquinas, have undergone numerous metaphysical gymnastics and theoretical contortions to get around this problem-with but limited success.

One might be tempted simply to dismiss all this consternation as ivory tower sophism, except that the stakes here are real. If God changes God’s mind, how can God’s word be trusted? If God does not know and control the outcome of future events, how can the hopes passed down to us by the prophets inspire hope in our hearts? If God is not in control, who is? An impotent God is hardly a God at all. On the other hand, if God possesses each of the three “omnies,” wherein lies human freedom? If God is “all” powerful, it follows that we have no power-or at least not enough to make any real difference in our lives or in the world. So why try to end world hunger, overcome injustice or address climate control? Why attempt anything significant if history is locked into a calendar of biblically determined events leading up to the great tribulation, the rapture and the final judgment? As one individual I know was heard to say, “climate change is good news! It means Jesus is coming soon.”

Most of us would be repelled by either extreme, but the problem remains. If God is not all powerful, how powerful is God? Powerful enough to save us? Then why isn’t God saving the victims of war and starvation who are dying as I compose this article? It is all well and good to say that God respects our free will, but are there not limits to that rationale? As a parent, I tried to respect my children’s agency and freedom of choice even when they were small. But when I saw them running headlong toward a busy street, I intervened to restrain them without much regard for their will to the contrary. Is it unreasonable to expect God to intervene when genocide is being conducted?

Though I would not call myself a process theologian by any stretch, I will say that the philosophies of Alfred North Whitehead and Charles Harthshorne have given me some valuable conceptual tools for understanding the scriptures and their multifaceted witness to God’s saving acts. The following passage from Whitehead’s Process and Reality has been particularly helpful:

“The consequent nature of God is his judgement on the world. He saves the world as it passes into the immediacy of his own life. It is the judgement of tenderness which loses nothing that can be saved. It is also the judgement of a wisdom which uses what in the temporal world is mere wreckage.

“Another image which is also required to understand [God’s] consequent nature is that of his infinite patience. The universe includes a threefold creative act composed of (i) the infinite conceptual realization, (ii) the multiple solidarity of free physical realizations in the temporal world, (iii) the ultimate unity of the multiplicity of actual fact. If we conceive the first term and the last term in their unity over against the intermediate multiple freedom of physical realizations in the temporal world, we conceive of the patience of God, tenderly saving the turmoil of the intermediate world by the completion of his own nature. The sheer force of things lies in the intermediate physical process: this is the energy of production. God’s role is not the combat of productive force with productive force, of destructive force with destructive force; it lies in the patient operation of the overpowering rationality of his conceptual harmonization. He does not create the world, he saves it; or, more accurately, he is the poet of the world, with tender patience leading it by his vision of truth, beauty, and goodness.”[3]

I cannot begin to unpack fully this dense and nuanced passage which can only be fully appreciated after first reading the prior chapters of Whitehead’s work. But I believe enough comes through to illustrate the point, namely, that God’s interrelationship with the world is persuasive rather than coercive. God’s power is God’s patient determination to bring to fruition what St. Augustine calls the City of God in and through participation in the universe’s processes, inviting it, prodding it, cajoling it to become more than what it is. One need not (and I do not) buy into Whitehead’s metaphysics hook line and sinker to recognize in it echoes of St. Paul’s insistence that this “weakness of God” is actually the power of God revealed in the cross of Christ.[4] The cross and Jesus’ subsequent resurrection demonstrate that our most depraved act of rebellion is not powerful enough to evoke a retributive response from God or deter God from bringing to fruition through God’s continued dance with creation the new heaven and earth to which John of Patmos testifies in the Book of Revelation.

Such an understanding of God’s interaction with the universe leaves room for human agency and responsibility. The decisions we make and the actions we take make a real difference. We cannot, by our own reason or strength usher in the reign of God. But our actions in conformity with God’s reign contribute to its growth and its richness. Similarly, our acts of violence, indifference and greed result in the destruction of opportunities for God’s reign to grow, prosper and flower. We cannot stop the kingdom from coming, but we can frustrate its progress, delay its coming and rob it of some of the richness it might have had, if only we had acted differently.

Because the creation has a degree of free agency, God’s actions are, of necessity, contingent upon those of its creatures. When creation throws God a curve ball, acts in a manner novel and unanticipated or presents God with a new opportunity for or a new threat to God’s purpose, God must change course, “repent” of God’s plan and respond in a new way. God’s acts are not, however, capricious. God always acts in furtherance of the end God has in mind for the universe-that God may finally be all in all. I Corinthians 15:28. To that extent, we can say that the end is predestined. God will complete what God has in store for creation through patient, compassionate persuasion, working for as long as it takes.

In sum, God changes God’s mind, but never God’s heart. God changes God’s approach but never God’s goal of bringing all things to completion in God’s self. God changes course, but never God’s redemptive purpose. Because God repents, we have the opportunity and freedom to do the same.  

Here is a poem by Jane Kenyon suggesting how God’s gentle, persuasive love might be at work under our noses.

Briefly It Enters, and Briefly Speaks

I am the blossom pressed in a book,

found again after two hundred years. . . .

I am the maker, the lover, and the keeper….

When the young girl who starves

sits down to a table

she will sit beside me. . . .

I am food on the prisoner’s plate. . . .

I am water rushing to the wellhead,

filling the pitcher until it spills. . . .

I am the patient gardener

of the dry and weedy garden. . . .

I am the stone step,

the latch, and the working hinge. . . .

I am the heart contracted by joy. . . .

the longest hair, white

before the rest. . . .

I am there in the basket of fruit

presented to the widow. . . .

I am the musk rose opening

unattended, the fern on the boggy summit. . . .

I am the one whose love

overcomes you, already with you

when you think to call my name. . . .

Source: Otherwise: New and Selected Poems, (c. 2005 by Estate of Jane Kenyon; pub. by Graywolf Press). Jane Kenyon (1947-1995) was born in Ann Arbor, Michigan. She attended the University of Michigan in her hometown and completed her master’s degree there in 1972. It was there also that she met her husband, the poet Donald Hall, who taught there. Kenyon moved with Hall to Eagle Pond Farm, in New Hampshire where she lived until her untimely death in 1995 at age 47. You can read more of Jane Kenyon’s poetry and find out more about her at the Poetry Foundation Website.

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[1] A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament, (Edited, Francis Brown; pub. by Oxford University Press, c.1907 reprinted 1953 and most recently edited in 1978).

[2] It should be noted that none of these three words are biblical.

[3] Process and Reality: An Essay in Cosmology, Whitehead, Alfred North, (c. 1978 by The Free Press) p. 346.

[4] Some of the theologians who have made creative use of process thought are John Cobb (A Christian Natural Theology c. 1975 by W.L. Jenkins, pub. Westminster Press; God and the World c. 1969 by Westminster Press) and David Ray Griffin (God, Power, and Evil, c. 1976 by Westminster Press). See also a fine collection of essays in Handbook of Process Theology (edited and c. 2006 by Jay McDaniel and Donna Bowman, pub. by Chalice Press).

 

SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY

1 Samuel 3:1-20

Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18

1 Corinthians 6:12-20

John 1:43-51

Prayer of the Day: Thanks be to you, Lord Jesus Christ, most merciful redeemer, for the countless blessings and benefits you give. May we know you more clearly, love you more dearly, and follow you more nearly, day by day praising you, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“Come and see.” John 1:46.

What is a disciple? For most of my life and ministry, I have turned to preacher, professor and martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s answer in his book, The Cost of Discipleship:

“When the Bible speaks of following Jesus, it is proclaiming a discipleship which will liberate mankind from all man-made dogmas, from every burden and oppression, from every anxiety and torture which afflicts the conscience. If they follow Jesus, men escape from the hard yoke of their own laws, and submit to the kindly yoke of Jesus Christ. But does this mean that we ignore the seriousness of his commands? Far from it. We can only achieve perfect liberty and enjoy fellowship with Jesus when his command, his call to absolute discipleship, is appreciated in its entirety. Only when the man who follows the command of Jesus single-mindedly, and unresistingly lets his yoke rest upon him, finds his burden easy, and under its gentle pressure receives the power to persevere in the right way.” Bonhoeffer, Dietrich, The Cost of Discipleship, (c. 1963 SCM Press, Ltd.) p. 40 (emphasis supplied).

I still agree with Bonhoeffer in the main. But with some caveats. In Sunday’s gospel, the disciples responding to Jesus’ call seem to have mixed motives at best. Jesus is brought to the attention of Philip and Andrew by John the Baptizer. Whatever they might have thought about Jesus, it was clear to them that John recognized in him “The Lamb of God,” the one on whom the Spirit not only descended, but “remained.” That was enough to convince them at least to “check Jesus out.” Peter came to Jesus through the influence of his brother, Andrew. Nathaniel, though highly skeptical that “anything good” could come out of Nazareth, nevertheless gave Philip, and by extension Jesus, the benefit of the doubt.

As we travel through John’s gospel narrative, we get the impression that the body of Jesus’ disciples was in flux. It seems that this company included his brothers at some point, though they later seem to be skeptical of him. In the sixth chapter of John, a crowd of over five thousand was drawn to Jesus and ready to acclaim him king. But by the end of the chapter, it appears that all but the twelve had withdrawn from him. Nicodemus came to Jesus, albeit covertly and by night. Joseph of Arimathea, too, thought enough of Jesus to oppose his arrest and conviction. Yet neither of these men, so far as we know, ever publicly identified with Jesus. They were among the ones the Evangelist castigates because “they did not confess [their belief in Jesus], for fear that they would be put out of the synagogue; for they loved human glory more than the glory that comes from God.” Nevertheless, these two men took the risk of seeking leave from Pilate to give Jesus a proper burial while the disciples deserted him and left his body to rot on the cross. John 12:42-43.

Who, then, are the true disciples? Those who follow Jesus to the bitter end? No one in the gospels actually did that. Those who forsake family, possessions and livelihood to live a life solely devoted to prayer, mission, witness and service? Some communities, such as monastic fellowships, approximate such a life. But most of us are not suited to it. What about the movers and shakers in our churches who actually “get” Jesus and the reign of God he proclaims? What about the ones who may not have a well articulated faith, but are always there when the plumbing breaks down, the parking lot needs shoveling or the furnace goes on the blink? And where does that leave those who are content to make modest donations and attend infrequently? What about the folks who never attend, never contribute but think of our church as “their” church and show up when they need a baptism, confirmation or burial? Disciple might be too strong a word for these latter folks, but they are nonetheless drawn to Jesus in some measure for some reasons-however mixed, misguided or shallow.  

It is temping to look for true disciples at the core of the church where Jesus is publicly and unapologetically proclaimed as Lord. But even that is problematic. Again, Judas was one of the twelve and that is about as close to the core as one ever gets. Furthermore, as Jesus himself points out, even people who are not literally following him might still be following him. Mark 9:38-41. Then there was the women I will simply call Kim who I met in college. Kim was an exchange student from Tiawan and a Buddhist. As a then eager evangelical, I was keen to convert her. Instead, she captivated my imagination with her rich and beautiful faith. In one of our last conversations, she told me “there is a lot about the Christian idea of God I don’t understand. But I think that learning about Jesus has made me a better Buddhist.” Is Kim a disciple?

I still agree with Dietrich Bonhoeffer that discipleship is grounded in knowing, following and being formed by Jesus. I still believe we are tasked with calling our members, both at the core of our congregations and on the fringes, to a deeper and more concrete commitment to Jesus. But I also believe that it is finally the Holy Spirit who, through our witness, draws people into discipleship. Sometimes, that happens through mentorship and guidance. Some people are drawn by chance or mere curiosity which may or may not blossom into mature faith. Others are drawn for reasons that seem altogether unrelated to faith in Jesus. But they still come and I believe Jesus draws them, whether they know it or not, for his own reasons. I also believe that the Spirit is at work outside the church leading people into what is the way of Jesus among people of other faiths and those of no faith. That should not surprise us. If we take seriously what Paul tells us about Jesus being the one in whom all things hold together, there is no place we should expect him not to be working redemptively for the world God loves.

I think that one thing preventing the church from becoming a cult is the recognition that the borders of the church are undefined and that God is active both in our midst and well outside of our sanctuaries and institutions. You never know when or where you will meet a fellow disciple or someone hearing, however distantly, Jesus’ invitation to come with him. Here is a poem by Robert Frost with an invitation to follow and share a stretch of the poet’s life.

The Pasture

I’m going out to clean the pasture spring;

I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away

(And wit to watch the water clear, I may);

I shan’t be gone long-You come too.

I’m going out to fetch the little calf

That’s standing by the mother. It’s so young

It totters when she licks it with her tongue.

I shan’t be gone long-You come too.

Source: The Poetry of Robert Frost, (c. 1969 by Holt, Rinehart and Winston, Inc.) p. 255. Born in 1874, Robert Frost held various jobs throughout his college years. He was a worker at a Massachusetts mill, a cobbler, an editor of a small town newspaper, a schoolteacher and a farmer. By 1915, Frost’s literary acclaim was firmly established. On his seventy-fifth birthday, the U.S. Senate passed a resolution in his honor. The State of Vermont named a mountain after him and he was given the unprecedented honor of being asked to read a poem at the inauguration of John F. Kennedy in 1961. Through the lens of rural life in New England, Frost’s poetry ponders the metaphysical depths. His poems paint lyrical portraits of natural beauty, though ever haunted by shadow and decay. You can learn more about Robert Frost and sample more of his poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

To my guy friends who voted for Donald Trump: (circa 2016)

Guys, I love you all and I wouldn’t be writing this piece if I didn’t. If I didn’t care about you, if I didn’t believe you are all decent people who are trying to do the right thing, if I didn’t believe that you all want the very best for your country, it wouldn’t matter to me what you think or why. But I do care and so let me give it to you straight. Your vote for Donald Trump insulted me and, more importantly, it insulted the many, many women in my life, including my wife, my two daughters, my granddaughter, and many of my friends and colleagues. This is a man who bragged about grabbing young girls by the genitals, kissing and fondling them for no better reason than because he could. This is a man who belittles women with epitaphs like “dog” and “fat pig.” This is a man prepared to use the power of the presidency to retaliate against the women who came out and identified themselves as people to whom he did exactly what he said he did. This goes way beyond personal morality. Nobody expects moral perfection from a president or anyone else for that matter. But here we are talking criminal acts against women that are physically and emotionally crippling-and joking about it.

“It’s just a distraction,” you say. “I voted for Trump because of where he stood on the real issues, the economy, immigration, national defense, etc.,” “The locker room banter is no big deal,” “It’s the biased media focusing on unimportant trivia.” “Let’s stay focused on the real issues.” Excuse me. Sexual assault against women damn well is a real issue. Half the people in this country are women. One in four of them will be sexually assaulted before she reaches eighteen. One in five American college women are sexually assaulted during their time on campus. If that isn’t an important issue for you, if you don’t think it matters that the president of the United States, the one entrusted with the enforcement of our laws, boasts of being a sexual predator, if you think joking about sexually assaulting girls is just harmless “guy talk,” then I pray to God for your daughters. I pray that they have some other wholesome influences in their lives to assure them that they are valued people in their own right so they don’t grow up thinking they have to be sex toys for any rich, famous and politically powerful man who can’t seem to keep his hands in his pockets. I pray that they will not learn the lesson taught to all young girls by the outcome of this election: If a man wants your body, he is entitled to take it and there isn’t a thing you can do about it.

There it is. You might choose to unfriend me after this. That’s your prerogative. But I am hoping you will instead catch just a glimpse of how the women in your life experience the world. I hope you will get an inkling of what it is like to be insulted, abused and violated in the most hurtful and humiliating way imaginable and, on top of that, to be publicly shamed for it. I am hoping that you will go home tonight and look into the eyes of the women you love. If I can’t convince you that women deserve dignity and respect, that our girls deserve a world where they don’t have to fear men grabbing at their genitals and that these are important issues, perhaps they can.

BAPTISM OF OUR LORD

Genesis 1:1-5

Psalm 29

Acts 19:1-7

Mark 1:4-11

Prayer of the Day: Holy God, creator of light and giver of goodness, your voice moves over the waters. Immerse us in your grace, and transform us by your Spirit, that we may follow after your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.” Genesis 1:1-2.

“The voice of the Lord is over the waters;
   the God of glory thunders,
   the Lord, over mighty waters.
The voice of the Lord is powerful;
   the voice of the Lord is full of majesty.” Psalm 29:3-4.

“And just as [Jesus] was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’” Mark 1:10-11.

One of the many benefits of living here on the Outer Cape is having immediate access to some of the most remarkable ocean beaches on the east coast. I am a beach lover, but not in the sunbathing sense. For me, a perfect beach day is cold, cloudy, windy and accented with mist or rain. I love the beach most on days everyone else avoids it. There is nothing to compare with walking miles on a stretch of ocean shore below dune cliffs on the one side and restless waters breathing silky foam on the other without meeting another human soul. The only sounds you hear are the crashing breakers and the cries of seagulls overhead. An hour’s walk on the beach is worth a week of therapy in my opinion.

The ocean is a parable of creative power. Just as one never steps into the same river twice, no one ever walks on the same beach twice. The wind and the waters are forever re-arranging the contours of the land, shifting the position of sandbars, which, in turn, influences the breaking of waves, formation of tide pools and the flow of rip currents.

The ocean spews up rocks, driftwood and shells creating colorful and unique mosaics never before seen and which, after the next high tide, will never be seen again. Waters, sometimes breaking with ferocious might upon the sand, sometimes lapping the shore with the gentle affection of a puppy, stretch far beyond the power of human sight and melt into the sky in one fine line defining the horizon. The ocean wields the mighty power to make and to unmake. It reminds anyone who gives it undivided attention for more than a moment how fragile, finite and momentary is one’s small existence. 

The Hebrew Scriptures open with a lyrical tale about how the wind of God’s breath acting upon the waters brought all things into being. The Gospel of Mark announces the “beginning of the good news about Jesus” with an account of Jesus coming forth from the waters of the Jordan, the sky being rent apart, the Spirit of God descending upon Jesus and God declaring that this Jesus is God’s beloved Son. The wind and the waters are once again at work creating something new.

I am thankful for my proximity to the ocean. In its presence, I am reminded of what these biblical witnesses are trying to tell us. The power of water and wind is clearly dangerous and destructive.  Yet they hold the secret of renewal, life and creation. Too often, I think we are prone to see only the destructive side of these elements. That is hardly surprising. Whether we get our news from radio, television, internet or social media, the focus is usually on hot winds fanning destructive wildfires over acres of forest and into the heart of towns and villages. There is plenty of news about hurricanes, tornados and floods. Gentle rains bringing lifegiving water to crops, oceans cradling millions of unseen species from blue whales to plankton, cold fall air triggering the advent of spectacular fall foliage seldom make headlines because, well, none of that is really news, is it?

By the same token, the life of a preacher from the backwoods neighborhood of a backwoods territory far away from the movers and shakers of history in Rome does not seem to register as newsworthy. But Mark’s gospel tells us that this is, in fact, where the real news is happening. While emperors, kings and dictators flaunt their exalted titles, armies march across the globe leaving trails of blood, destruction and suffering, nations rise, fret and strut their moment upon the stage and with their glorious capitals, monuments and flags fade into the mist of archeological ruins with tedious regularity, something really new and revolutionary is taking place. God is weaving God’s self into the fabric of creation, infusing God’s self into our very human DNA. Henceforth, Emmanuel. God is with us. To use a Lutheran term, God is “in, with and under” every transaction occurring in the universe from the movement of the tiniest subatomic particle to the rotation of galaxies. Good news is here. You just need to look past the headlines to find it.

In this Sunday’s New York Times, columnist Nicholas Kristof points out that the human race actually made some significant progress in 2023, despite the overall consensus of media, left and right, that it has been an abysmally terrible year. For example, the United Nations Population Division reports that the global infant mortality rate for this past year reached an all time low of 3.6 percent. Extreme poverty has likewise reached an all time low of 18 percent, meaning that one hundred thousand people are emerging from extreme poverty each day. Their lifestyles are hardly comparable to what we middle class Americans expect, but it is no small thing for persons formerly on the verge of starvation are now able to access clean water, adequate food, medicine and basic education for their children. Two of the most deadly diseases afflicting poorer communities have been all but eradicated, these being polio and Guinea worm disease. Advances have been made against sickle cell disease and vaccines are on the horizon for R.S.V. and malaria-both chief causes of death among infants and children. None of this makes headlines, but it is news just the same. For eyes to see and hears to hear, it is news that our compassionate God is laboring with the persistence of the ocean tides to birth a new creation in the midst of the old.

My purpose here is not to minimize the dangers we are confronting and that have manifested themselves in particularly graphic ways this last year. If the patterns of global warming and climate change continue unabated, if global leaders make a serious miscalculation in managing one of the world’s many conflicts such that a nuclear exchange takes place, if we are overtaken by another pandemic more severe than covid-19 in our present state of unpreparedness, all of the above advances could easily be erased. What cannot be erased is God’s persistent determination to be with us. Should our choices lead us to yet another dark age of ruin and barbarism, God will be there to pick up the pieces and begin again-and again and again. As the wind and the waves wipe away the foot prints we leave on the beach each day, replacing them with fresh sand, fresh mosaics and new sand formations, so God is at work in our world taking up the broken pieces left over from all of the poor decisions, selfish actions and destructive movements we spew out into the world and weaving them into something new and beautiful. God will continue doing so for as long as it takes.

As Luther’s Small Catechism reminds us, God’s kingdom comes without our prayers-or anything else we do or do not do. But why make things harder on God and ourselves than we have to? Why not work at looking past the fearful headlines to the news that matters? Why not align ourselves with those who, far from the cameras, the press conferences and the documentaries, are doing God’s work of caring for, healing and renewing creation? Why be dragged down by the undertow of fear and foreboding when you can ride the breath of God and be carried by the living waters? To be baptized into Christ is just that.

Here is a poem by Marjorie Meeker about the symbolic power of the Ocean. Proud and mighty though it may be, it can be seen in a small brook-for those with eyes to see and ears to hear. A fine parabolic image of the Incarnation!

Certainly Oceans

Certainly oceans, proud with their manifold

Rythms of rainy silver or sullen gold,

Hold fires celestial variously glowing,

All heaven in hues forever ebbing and flowing

With their praised prismatic tides: yet even a brook

Has a heart of sky, should any stop to look-

Should any stop to look, a brook may keep

Colors of time, of lovers’ tears, of sleep.

Source: Poetry, November, 1927. Marjorie Meeker was born in Bradford, England where her father was an American ambassador. She came with her family to the United States at the age of five, living alternatively in New York and Ohio throughout her childhood. She was awarded Poetry’s Young Writer’s Prize in 1924. Unfortunately, I have found nothing else on this remarkable poet. The above information was gleaned from Modern American Poetry, A Critical Anthology, by Louis Untermeyer (c. 1919 by Harcourt, Brace and Howe, Inc.).

FIRST SUNDAY OF CHRISTMAS

Isaiah 61:10-62:3

Psalm 148

Galatians 4:4-7

Luke 2:22-40

Prayer of the Day: Almighty God, you wonderfully created the dignity of human nature and yet more wonderfully restored it. In your mercy, let us share the divine life of the one who came to share our humanity, Jesus Christ, your Son, our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

For Zion’s sake I will not keep silent,
   and for Jerusalem’s sake I will not rest,
until her vindication shines out like the dawn,
   and her salvation like a burning torch. Isaiah 62:1.

Jerusalem is no less in need of vindication and salvation today than it was in the time of the prophet. The city’s religious significance, limited in Isaiah’s day to a small band of Judean exiles, is now global. For Jews, Jerusalem is the City of David, the site of Solomon’s temple, the place where Abraham nearly offered his son Isaac as a burnt offering and, according to some Jewish traditions, the site of creation. For many Muslims, Jerusalem is the third holiest city after Mecca and Medina. It is the place to which the prophet Mohamed was transported during his “night journey.” Of course, Christians know Jerusalem as the place where Jesus entered in triumph, was arrested, crucified and raised from death. Numerous unholy crusades have been launched and brutal wars fought by these faith groups for control of this holy city.

But religion is not the only factor driving the violence infecting Jerusalem and the holy land generally. In fact, for centuries, Jews, Muslims and Christians lived in the region of Palestine peacefully. Then, after centuries of violent persecution culminating in the Holocaust, a group of Jewish leaders finally came to the conclusion that a people without a country is no people and that the world will do nothing to prevent its extermination. So the state of Israel was born in Palestine and, for the first time in centuries, Jews had voice in the global community of nations. Now, in a cruel and ironic twist of fate, Palestinians-likewise a stateless people-are experiencing state sponsored violence at the hands of the Jewish state with little to protect them beyond toothless UN resolutions. The potential for ethnic, cultural and religious violence is always amplified when matters of national sovereignty are thrown into the mix.

And there is the matter of oil. The governments of many Middle Eastern nations with horrendous records of human rights abuses receive western support and a pass on their barbaric conduct because they protect the flow of petroleum from the world’s biggest oil reserves to Europe and the United States. American foreign policy requires balancing support for Israel, its most loyal ally in the region, against the need for stable relationships with oil rich Arab countries. The geopolitical stability resulting from this precarious balancing act comes at the expense of Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank who, being stateless, have no government to represent their interests and thus no say in treaties, defense agreements and economic pacts that have profound consequences for their lives.

Meanwhile, the Christian population in Jerusalem, most of which is Palestinian, continues to decrease. Feared by the Israeli government as terrorist sympathizers and distrusted by their fellow countrymen who question their loyalty to the Palestinian cause, Christians are finding it increasingly difficult to navigate the polarities of the region.

Beyond the obvious humanitarian concerns plaguing the middle east, should Christians care about Jerusalem? Does the fate of Jerusalem matter any more than the fate of any other city in the world? Wouldn’t the gospel be the gospel whether Jerusalem thrives or perishes? I think not. The three Abrahamic religions, Islam, Judaism and Christianity have this in common: place and time. Our beliefs are grounded in historical events that occurred in specific places. Ours is not a religion of pure spirit divorced from the things of the world. The career of Muhamad, the saga of Israel and the life and death of Jesus and his disciples’ witness to his resurrection are not mere historical accidents illustrative of but not essential to larger moral and spiritual truths. They are intertwined with and inseparable from our teaching, faith and practice. It is no accident either that all three of these faiths intersect at Jerusalem. Though this holy city has been at the center of some very bloody and unholy conflicts throughout history, that should not and need not be so.

The Hebrew Scriptures speak of Zion as a mother whose children include Egypt, Babylon, Ethiopia and Tyer. See Psalm 87. Jerusalem and Mount Zion is to be the source of a salvation that will embrace the whole world:

“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.” Isaiah 2:2-4.  

The New Testament concludes its witness with a description of the New Jerusalem, which, renewed as it is, remains firmly grounded in the symbols and history of both Israel and the church:

“And in the spirit he carried me away to a great, high mountain and showed me the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God. It has the glory of God and a radiance like a very rare jewel, like jasper, clear as crystal. It has a great, high wall with twelve gates, and at the gates twelve angels, and on the gates are inscribed the names of the twelve tribes of the Israelites; on the east three gates, on the north three gates, on the south three gates, and on the west three gates. And the wall of the city has twelve foundations, and on them are the twelve names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb. Revelation 21:10-14.

Nonetheless, the holy city is open to all peoples: “The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it.” Revelation 21:24. There will be no closed border for “[i]ts gates will never be shut by day—and there will be no night there.” Revelation 21:25.

The New Jerusalem is everything the current Jerusalem is not-but might be. Might be if enough Jews, Muslims and Christians own up to all that Jerusalem means to them; if enough ecumenically minded representatives of all three faiths can help us all see beyond the ancient blood feuds, global politics, conflicting claims of sovereignty to a different way of honoring the holy city; if our longing to see a Jerusalem that reflects God’s future prevails over the cycles of retribution that entrap us in our violent past, then we might just catch a glimpse of that holy city God is so eager to give us.

Here is a fine old hymn featuring Jerusalem and all the symbolic, metaphoric and allegoric power it carries. It was written by Johann M. Meyfart in 1626 and translated from the original German into English in 1858 by Catherine Winkworth. It did not make the cut for our more recent Lutheran Hymnals. Would that the holy city of Jerusalem someday reflect in some small measure the mercy of God and the oneness of humanity shared by all of the Abrahamic faiths!

Jerusalem, Thou City Fair and High

1. Jerusalem, thou city fair and high,
Would God I were in thee!
My longing heart fain, fain to thee would fly,
It will not stay with me.
Far over vale and mountain,
Far over field and plain,
It hastes to seek its Fountain
And leave this world of pain.

2. O happy day and yet far happier hour,
When wilt thou come at last,
When fearless to my Father’s love and pow’r,
Whose promise standeth fast,
My soul I gladly render?
For surely will His hand
Lead her with guidance tender
To heav’n, her fatherland.

3. A moment’s space, and gently, wondrously,
Released from earthly ties,
Elijah’s chariot bears her up to thee,
Thro’ all these lower skies
To yonder shining regions,
While down to meet her come
The blessed angel legions
And bid her welcome home.

4. O Zion, hail! Bright city, now unfold
The gates of grace to me.
How many a time I longed for thee of old
Ere yet I was set free
From yon dark life of sadness,
Yon world of shadowy naught,
And God had given the gladness,
The heritage, I sought.

5. What glorious throng and what resplendent host
Comes sweeping swiftly down?
The chosen ones on earth who wrought the most,
The Church’s brightest crown,
Our Lord hath set to meet me,
As in the far-off years
Their words oft came to greet me
In yonder land of tears.

6. The partiarchs’ and prophets’ noble train,
With all Christ’s followers true,
Who bore the cross and could the worst disdain
That tyrants dared to do,
I see them shine forever,
All-glorious as the sun,
Mid light that fadeth never,
Their perfect freedom won.

7. And when within that lovely Paradise
At last I safely dwell,
What songs of bliss shall from my lips arise,
What joy my tongue shall tell,
While all the saints are singing
Hosannas o’er and o’er,
Pure hallelujahs ringing
Around me evermore!

8. Unnumbered choirs before the shining throne
Their joyful anthems raise
Till heaven’s glad halls are echoing with the tone
Of that great hymn of praise
And all its host rejoices,
And all its blessed throng
Unite their myriad voices
In one eternal song.

Source: The Lutheran Hymnal, (c. 1941 by Concordia Publishing House) Hymn # 619. Johann Matthäus Meyfart (1590-1642) was a German Lutheran theologian, educator, minister and musician. The son of a minister, he was born in Jena and studied at the University of Jena from which he graduated in 1603. He went on to study theology at the University of Wittenberg in 1614. In 1633 Meyfart was appointed professor of theology at the University of Erfurt. He served as rector of the university in1634. Throughout his final years he served as a minister at the Predigerkirche (“Preachers’ Church”) where he was buried when he died in 1642. Catherine Winkworth (1827-1878) was an English teacher and hymnwriter. She was born in London to a wealthy silk merchant. Though born into wealth and privilege, Winkworth was an opponent of worker exploitation common to the industrial revolutionary era in which she lived and a fierce critic of British colonialism. She was also an advocate for wider educational opportunities for women and girls.  Winkworth translated the above hymn of Johann Meyfart as well as many other German hymns into English, thereby enriching the worship life of English speaking Lutherans.

FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT

2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16

Luke 1:46b-55 or Psalm 89:1-4, 19-26

Romans 16:25-27

Luke 1:26-38

Prayer of the Day: Stir up your power, Lord Christ, and come. With your abundant grace and might, free us from the sin that would obstruct your mercy, that willingly we may bear your redeeming love to all the world, for you live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Luke 1:38.

A couple of years ago a heated argument exploded over social media among clerics over the merits (or lack thereof) of the then (and perhaps now) popular song, Mary Did You Know[1] The lyrics question Mary, asking if she knew the eventual significance and salvation her son would have for humankind and the miracles he would perform. Some of my colleagues maintained that the song prompts salutary reflection upon Mary and the extent of her insight into the destiny of her holy child. Others felt it amounted to condescending “mansplaining” that denigrated Mary. I happily determined this to be one of the many issues upon which it is quite unnecessary for me form an opinion. If you have not heard the song, I invite you to click the above link and decide for yourself-or not.

I believe it is quite impossible for us to “get inside the head” of Mary the mother of our Lord, or anyone else for that matter. Nonetheless, I am confident that Mary understood what every expectant mother living in Gaza right now knows, namely, that the life of a woman is expandible and a small price to pay for gaining military advantage, advancing ideological agendas and maintaining geopolitical stability. I am sure Mary would not have been surprised by a nation that rewards a rapist and confessed sexual predator with the highest office in the land. She would not have been shocked by government regulation of women’s bodies and health. Mary knew that the world is a dangerous place for women-to say nothing of the infants in their care. She understood the world into which her child would be born-and said “yes, let it be.”

Some question the genuineness of Mary’s consent to the will of God. What was left to which she could consent? She was not asked, but told by an angle of God what will happen to her. She will bear a child. How will this happen in the absence of a husband? The answer might sound more like a threat than a promise. “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you…” Luke 1:35. It is not hard to see how a survivor of sexual assault or abuse might find this gospel text troubling. There is no real indicia of consent here. Nonetheless, this troubling text reflects a truth too often suppressed and denied by Americans like us who like to make much of our freedom, autonomy and agency. The truth is, we do not get to choose the nation, neighborhood or family into which we are born. Events beyond our control set our destinies on trajectories we could never have foreseen. Even the decisions we think we understand sometimes take us in directions we never anticipated. Did any of us married folk know to what we were committing ourselves when we promised to join with our spouse and share with them in all that is to come? Seemingly insignificant choices, such as deciding to skip the book club so as to take in a ball game might lead to life changing encounters. Of course, there are events that are disruptive and life changing by their very nature. Such is the occurrence of pregnancy.

The coming of a child brings about profound changes in the life of couples who will soon find themselves walking a cranky baby late at night instead of sitting with friends around a pitcher of beer at the local sports bar. The advent of a birth threatens to upset the established family constellation and ignite new levels of sibling rivalry. I remember all too well how the birth of my younger sister forced me to realize sooner than I would have liked that I am not the center of the universe or even the sole object of my parents’ attention and affection. And this is under circumstances where the pregnancy is anticipated and welcome. Our gospel text deals with an unplanned, unanticipated and problematic pregnancy, which makes it exponentially more disruptive. It is an event that shatters expectations, hopes and dreams for the future. Mary’s pregnancy will shape her destiny in ways she might not even suspect. Yet, she says “yes, let it be.”

So what are we to make of Mary’s assent? Was it real? Could she have done otherwise? I believe that Mary could have rejected God’s purpose and intent. She did not have to recognize her pregnancy as the work of the Holy Spirit. She did not have to embrace the hope represented in the angel’s pronouncement concerning her child. She might have viewed her pregnancy as a curse, an embarrassment and a roadblock to the way of the life she had been anticipating. To be sure, God would have continued to work God’s will for Jesus without Mary’s consent. But the church, the world and Mary herself would have been poorer for it. As it was, Mary did give her assent and embraced wholeheartedly the promise of hope planted in her womb. She embraced her vocation as the Mother of God, whether she understood it as such or not.

American poet, biographer and journalist Carl Sandburg once said that “a baby is God’s opinion that the world should go on.” By extension, one could say that every woman’s fierce determination to care for, nurture and protect her baby, even at the cost of her own life, reflects her faith that it will. It is just this sort of faith required of us in these days when it sometimes feels as though the world is coming apart at the seams. In that respect, nothing has changed. The future looked pretty bleak for Mary and her kinsfolk, living as they did under military occupation run by a governor that did not shrink from killing innocent people worshiping peacefully simply to make a point. See Luke 13:1. Yet Mary was able to say yes to her pregnancy and the seeds of promise it held because she could see beyond the gloom to the day when God “scatter[s] the proud in the imagination of their hearts,” “[brings] down the powerful from their thrones and lift[s] up the lowly,” “fill[s] the hungry with good things” and “send[s] the rich away empty.” Luke 1:51-53. The fact that Mary’s song of praise just cited employes the Greek aorist[2] tense where I employ the future tense emphasizes that God’s future is a present reality even now breaking into our world.

A call to embrace the future is admittedly a big ask. Frankly, I am appalled seeing the political star of a presidential candidate rise higher with every ugly, racist and xenophobic remark he makes. I am horrified by state governments that are regulating women’s bodies to the grave with restrictions on lifesaving medical treatment. I am grieved at attempts by illiterate fanatics like Moms for Liberty to limit our children’s access to works of literature deemed unfit according to their narrow, bigoted and ill-informed world views. I would love just to say, “to hell with it.” I would love to cancel my subscription to the papers I read, turn off the news, grab my camera and spend the rest of my life traipsing around in the national forest taking pictures, savoring the change of seasons and watching birds. But the birth of a child, the birth of this one child convinces me that God has not given up on the world. So how can I?

Here is a poem by Wendell Berry reflecting ambivalence about bringing children into the world and the hope that will not allow for regret.

To My Children, Fearing for Them

Terrors are to come. The earth

is poisoned with narrow lives.

I think of you. What you will

live through, or perish by, eats

at my heart. What have I done? I

need better answers than there are

to the pain of coming to see

what was done in blindness,

loving what I cannot save. Nor,

your eyes turning toward me,

can I wish your lives unmade

though the pain of them is on me.

Source: The Peace of Wild Things, (c. 1964 by Wendell Berry; pub. by Penguin Random House 2018). Wendell Berry (b. 1934) is a poet, novelist, farmer and environmental activist. He is an elected member of the Fellowship of Southern Writers, a recipient of The National Humanities Medal and the Jefferson Lecturer for 2012. He is also a 2013 Fellow of The American Academy of Arts and Sciences. Berry was named the recipient of the 2013 Richard C. Holbrooke Distinguished Achievement Award. On January 28, 2015, he became the first living writer to be inducted into the Kentucky Writers Hall of Fame. You can read more about Wendell Berry and sample more of his works at the Poetry Foundation website.

  

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[1]  Lyrics written by Mark Lowry in 1984 and music written by Buddy Greene in 1991. The above link is to a recording by Carrie Underwood.

[2] In New Testament Greek the aorist tense describes completed events or conditions in past time. However, it is often idiomatic to use the aorist to refer to present time. Thus, the aorist is used as much or more to denote the quality of action as its location in time.  

THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11

Psalm 126 or Luke 1:46b-55

1 Thessalonians 5:16-24

John 1:6-8, 19-28

Prayer of the Day: Stir up the wills of your faithful people, Lord God, and open our ears to the words of your prophets, that, anointed by your Spirit, we may testify to your light; through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.” John 1:6-7.

Who was John the Baptizer? Numerous trees have been felled to accommodate production of scholarly tomes aimed at answering that question. Sadly, this ruthless deforestation has given us little in the way of understanding. For a brief, but thorough discussion of the various theories concerning the origin and message of John the Baptizer and his significance for the early church, see Brown, Raymond E., The Gospel According to John 1-X11, (Anchor Bible Commentary, Vol. 29; c. 1966 by Doubleday). Brown’s commentary remains, in my view, the best overall treatment of the subject in brief. Yet whatever the Baptizer’s message, motive and ministry might actually have been, it is clear that, for John the Evangelist, his role is simply that of testifying to Jesus, the light of the world. As Jesus’ mission and ministry gain momentum, John’s must necessarily wane.

It strikes me that John the Baptizer’s mission as depicted in John the Evangelist’s gospel is a good parable for that of the church. The great pastor, theologian and teacher Karl Barth once said that the church is but the crater left by Jesus’s life, death and resurrection. Or I suppose one could say that, without Jesus, the church is nothing more than a hole in the ground. I think the church is prone to forget that. It seems to me that a lot of what passes for evangelism involves selling the church rather than proclaiming Jesus. Pick up any local periodical, turn to the section advertising religious services and chances are you will find a plethora of ads trumpeting the virtues of the churches placing them. They tout their programs, activism within the community, their heritage and pedigree, their worship styles, their warm and welcoming atmosphere, their progressivism/traditionalism, etc. Very little mention is ever made of Jesus.

Sometimes it seems as though Jesus is largely irrelevant to the life of the church in the view of a good many believers. In the wake of the Trump election in 2016 when anti-immigrant sentiment and fear of undocumented residents was at a fever pitch, I posted on my church’s marquee Leviticus 19:33-34 which reads:

“When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.”

A member of my church approached me following the Sunday service thereafter and asked if we could meet. I agreed, of course and we got together at a local diner. “I think you need to lay off the politics and stick to preaching the Bible,” he told me after an exchange of pleasantries. He regaled me with a long line of talking points which I gather he picked up from Tucker Carlson, Sean Hannity or Rush Limbaugh. “The country is being overrun by thousands of Mexicans thronging across an open border on a daily basis,” “Illegal immigrants are responsible for most of the murders in our country” “Illegal immigrants are taking away our jobs,” etc. I replied that I did not think his information was accurate but that, even if it were, Jesus calls us, in accord with the biblical injunction, to welcome and treat kindly the alien. My exasperated parishioner fairly shouted back, “I don’t care what the Bible says, this is my country and I’m not letting a bunch of wet backs take it away from me!” Sometimes you find yourself at a loss for words-as was I as I asked myself how we got from “Pastor you need to stick to preaching the Bible” to “I don’t care what the Bible says.” When it comes to weighty issues like national security, it seems that Jesus does not even fit into the equation.

Lest anyone think I am singling out conservative Christians, let me share just one more anekdote. Toward the end of my ministry I was attending a workshop sponsored by my church focusing on ways toward spiritual renewal for our congregations. For an hour and a half we engaged in exercises designed to stimulate conversation, discussion and strategizing for church growth. Toward the end of the meeting, one of the facilitators asked if we had any questions or comments about this proposed program. I raised my hand and asked the facilitator whether she was aware that not once during the entire process did the name of Jesus come up and whether that was inadvertent or intentional. (I thought about adding that I was not sure which answer would be the more disturbing). She did not have much of an answer. Another facilitator finally spoke up and said in a decidedly irritated tone, “I don’t think it is necessary to invoke the Trinity after every single paragraph. (For the record, I do not recall any references to God the Father or the Holy Spirit either.)

I know some folks will object that, if the church is about what Jesus would have us do, you know, justice, peace, reconciliation, advocacy, etc., it should not matter whether we reference him by name. Not according the John’s gospel. “Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine,” says Jesus, “neither can you unless you abide in me.” John 15:4. If we are not grounded in Jesus, we are just dead wood. As it turns out, Jesus’ way into justice, righteousness and peace is radically different from typical human means for pursuing them. The way to overcoming evil and achieving the good passes through persistently returning compassion and forgiveness for violence and hatred. Following Jesus means refusing, as did Jesus, to resort to violence or coercion, even in self defense, to achieve some greater good. That is what differentiates Jesus’ way from that of so many others pursuing noble ends. For most of the world, the ends justify the means. According to Jesus, the ends are the means.

That important distinction has never been more crucial than today, when we find Orthodox Christian Ukrainians and Orthodox Christian Russians killing each other over their respective national claims of justice. Today it is not uncommon to see churches flying Israeli flags while Christian students sport Palestinian flags-as though justice depends on the side taken in these homicidal conflicts. Noticeably absent from the heated arguments among Christians over who did what to whom, who is in the right, and how, if at all, the United States should be involved is any reference to Jesus, the Sermon on the Mount or the “new” commandment to love without restraint. When I attempt to bring Jesus into such arguments, I get the usual response, “So are you saying the Ukrainians should just let Russia walk over them? Do you think Israel should just ignore brutal terrorist attacks on its citizens? Should the Palestinians passively submit to the brutal occupation of the Israeli government?” My response is always the same. I am not telling any country or people what to do about anything. But I believe Jesus tells his disciples how they ought to conduct themselves. Quite simply, they must be outspoken against injustice, tirelessly advocating and caring for the oppressed and, in the face of violent opposition, accept that justice, truth and peace are worth dying for-but nothing is worth killing for.  

Professor Stanley Hauerwas has said that Christians are those people whose lives make no rational sense apart from Jesus’ resurrection. Therein lies my defense of pacifism. Christians worship a messiah whose life mirrored what he preached in the Sermon on the Mount. That life ended, quite predictably, in his being persecuted, rejected and put to death. That much confirms what most the rest of the world believes: “Nice guys finish last.” Jesus was, to use the words of a certain former president who shall remain nameless, “a loser” and anyone following him must be doubly so. But God raised Jesus from death and that changed everything. Turns out, the losers are those on the wrong side of history. Those who imagine that it does not matter how you treat the illegal immigrant, the prisoner, the uninsured, the homeless, the victims of the all powerful market, the refugees seeking relief in our country and all the rest of the “least” among us find themselves at the end struggling to explain their conduct. So, if asked how I can maintain a position of unqualified non-violence in the face of aggressive evil, why I can hold my home country wide open to all seeking refuge there, where I get the idea that all people are owed by their governments food, shelter and medical care, my answer is “because Jesus-not Caesar, not General Patton, not Ronald Regan, not anyone of power, fame or influence-was raised from the dead.” At the end of the day, that is the only answer I have and the only one I really need.

Maybe I go a bit overboard by saying that the church without Jesus is just a hole in the ground. Churches do perform a lot of socially useful and beneficial services. But so do a lot of other civic organizations. Moreover, truth be told, there is not much churches do that governments, schools, hospitals and international aid organizations cannot do even better-and should be doing. There is just one exception: we are the people who witness to Jesus. No other organization does that. We are the people who embody, however imperfectly, the new way of being human to which Jesus calls us. The way of Jesus is a long one. It calls for patience. As Saint Peter reminds us, it is not God’s will that any should perish, but that all should come to eternal life. II Peter 3:9. We often lack the kind of patience required to wait with Advent anticipation for a day when all people (and I do mean all) are reconciled. Wars spring from lack of patience. Destroying our enemies seems a much quicker and easier way to peace and security than trying to reconcile with them-and perhaps losing our lives in the process. But the way in which Jesus leads us is the slow, difficult, painful and frustrating way of reconciliation. It is the way of the cross. We are here to warn the world that the violent, dishonest and unjust means it would employ to achieve a quick and easy peace, meet just objectives and establish a longed for security lead only to death and destruction. As counterintuitive as it may seem, only the slow way of the cross leads to life.  

Advent
 
They say the hour’s getting late
The day of judgment will not wait.
Soon the dawn of doom will come
And darkness swallow up the sun.
So turn from earth your wandering eye
And fix your gaze upon the sky;
So when the Son of Man comes again,
He’ll find among us faith in men.

Yet if the end does not come soon,
We might yet colonize the moon,
Set our flags in the sands of Mars,
From there set sail for distant stars.
Given ten thousand years or more,
We might break down the last closed door,
And with your great machines transverse
The breadth of this whole universe.

Still, however far we roam,
No matter where we make our home,
We’ll meet again at each new shore
The Galilean troubadour
Whose troubling song will hound our race
In every coming time and place.
If God the end of time should save
For people in this distant age,
Will the Son of Man e’en then
Find among us faith in men?

Source: Anonymous

SECOND SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Isaiah 40:1-11

Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13

2 Peter 3:8-15a

Mark 1:1-8

Prayer of the Day: Stir up our hearts, Lord God, to prepare the way of your only Son. By his coming strengthen us to serve you with purified lives; through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“Prepare the way of the Lord,
   make his paths straight” Mark 1:3.

As with Mark the Evangelist’s gospel generally, the account of John the Baptizer’s appearance and message is tersely stated. In the illustrative words of the Prophet Isaiah, John comes to “prepare the way of the Lord,” to proclaim a “baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” The other gospels tell us more about John’s preaching and ministry, but I prefer to stick with Mark’s stark portrayal. Mark’s gospel frequently leaves us plenty of space to ponder the mysteries recorded on its pages, room for the imagination to fill in the blanks.

The story spills out of an ancient proclamation by the prophet who saw in the turbulent geopolitical clash of empires in the sixth century the hand of Israel’s God working liberation for his exiled people in Babylon, creating for them the opportunity for return to their ancestral land, opening up the way into a new beginning. That good news might not have seemed particularly good to many of the Babylonian exiles. They had been living in Babylon for half a century. To the younger generation, Babylon was the only home they had ever known. Over time, these captive peoples had become accustomed to living in a foreign land that was gradually becoming less foreign. Many of the exiles had settled into a comfortable existence. Some had even attained a degree of prominence in Babylonian society. Why leave the comfort and security of an established existence only to start over again in a land full of ruined cities and inhabited by peoples who would be none to happy about their arrival?

Clearly, the people would need a change of heart. That is where the preaching of repentance comes in. In common parlance, the word “repent” conjures up images of sorrow, remorse and breast beating. While repentance might indeed invite such a response, that is not what it is. To repent, in simplest terms, is to “turn around.” It involves a radical change of direction as the result of being confronted with a completely new reality. The prophet would have Israel know that history is not finally driven solely by the emperors and their armies. God is at work in the clash of superpowers causing even human wrath and malice to serve God’s purpose and rebound to God’s praise. Psalm 76:10. John would have us know that, under the shadow of Rome’s cruelty and brutal occupation of Israel, God is working yet another act of liberation for God’s oppressed people, the “least” of humanity.

John’s call to repentance is therefore more than a plea for personal moral and spiritual reform. It is an invitation to turn away from life lived under the fear of tyrants, a life lived in a state of compromise with the machinery of oppression and acceptance of the status quo as inevitable. It is a call to begin living into the reality that God, not Caeser, is Lord; that God is the God who choses and liberates slaves and brings great empires and their privileged beneficiaries to naught; that the power vaunted by the kingdoms of this world is finally impotent. Living as though all of this were true will likely place one on a collision course with the imperial forces that maintain order by the threat of crucifixion. But as Mark’s gospel will show us as his story unfolds, that threat is as empty as the tomb on Easter morning.

Volumes have been written by scholars and critics about how alien the Bible is to the modern mind. Whereas we view events through the lens of news media obsessed with real time reporting and getting the facts straight, the biblical authors and editors were chiefly concerned with getting the meaning of events right and fitting them into the grand narrative of God’s redemptive work for Israel and the Church. We scrupulously divide our libraries into fiction and nonfiction sections. Biblical authors recognized that truth is more than the sum of the facts. They did not draw such fine distinctions between truth as revealed in historical recollection and that expressed through hymns, poems, preaching, parable and fable. We, by contrast, find it hard to imagine living without those distinctions.

All that being said, I do not believe our difficulty with the Bible arises from the historical and cultural distance between the Biblical writers and ourselves. Our chief difficulty is the sociological distance between us. The Hebrew scriptures grew out of the ashes of a nation militarily crushed and whose people were driven off their ancestral land into exile. The New Testament was the product of small communities on the margins of society practicing an illegal religion in the shadow of an oppressive empire. These people worshiped a God who chose slaves over the sons of empire, “sinners” over the moral authorities, outcasts over the pillars of society, the poor and vulnerable over the wealthy and privileged. The power of their God was made known not by the strength of its patron’s armies, but in the “weakness” of God’s love for the poor, vulnerable and persecuted. I Corinthians 1:18-31.

Since the time of the Roman Emperor Constantine, the larger part of the church has served as the official religion of empires and nation states. As such, it has been tasked with grounding the nation in divine mandate, aligning faith in God with allegiance to country and enforcing national/community standards of morality. In so doing, the church has all too often morphed into precisely the kind of institutional machinery that crucified its Lord. Such was the cost of institutional success. But there was just one problem: the Bible. This book testifying to God through the struggles of slaves, outcasts, the impoverished and persecuted was a poor fit for the religion of empire designed to protect wealth and privilege. That is why the church’s imperial career was forever being punctuated with various monastic movements, sectarian schisms and sporadic efforts to return it to its life of discipleship.

The most remarkable testimony to the Bible’s heart and soul resides in the Black church in the United States. It is hard to imagine an enslaved people showing any interest in or desire to know the religion of their enslavers. Yet African American persons brought to this country as human cargo and born here into slavery, despite their being forbidden from learning to read and write, internalized the Bible and recognized in it, not a religious tome sanctifying the status quo, but a revolutionary text on liberation from oppression. They were able to see themselves and their struggles in the biblical saga in a way that their white contemporaries could never have done. For more on that, see Bowens, Lisa M., African American Readings of Paul: Reception, Resistance and Transformation, (c. 2020, Erdmans Publishing Co.).

I believe that those of us who have known only privilege, who have never been driven out of our homes at gunpoint, who have never faced forced labor or starvation, who have never known a day of homelessness, who have never been discriminated against, who watch the carnage occurring throughout the world on televisions and computer screens have a difficult time seeing ourselves in the biblical drama. I think perhaps that is what lies behind the Sunday School material with which I grew up showing Jesus as white and his disciples as bearded, white guys in bathrobes. We needed this religious artwork to see ourselves in the biblical story because we could not recognize ourselves in the text. Praying for daily bread hardly makes sense when you already have bread for the next month in the pantry. Turning the other cheek hardly registers where nobody is throwing any punches at you. Praying for persecutors is hard when you do not have any. So we spiritualized the Sermon on the Mount. We turned salvation into a private individual matter of accepting Jesus as one’s personal savior, an event having nothing to do with outside “worldly” matters. We transformed bearing the cross of Christ from suffering persecution for one’s witness to the reign of God into a mere metaphor for a nagging relative, a bothersome neighbor or a bad back. How else can you make the Bible’s message relevant to the privileged?

Well then preacher, are you saying that the Bible has nothing to say to those of us you call “privileged”? Are you telling us that God has no interest in us? No. Quite the contrary. John’s message is focused on us with laser sharpness. “Prepare the way of the Lord”-means for those of us who know only privilege, dismantling the structures of oppression that keep those people for whom God has a special concern in misery. Relinquishing privilege is the way in which we repent, turn around, go in a radically new direction. There are many concrete ways to go about this, both individually and corporately. For example, see Open Letter to the ELCA Presiding Bishop and Synodical Bishops: A Modest Proposal for Reparational Tithe. By becoming attentive to the Bible’s witness to the One we confess as God, even more opportunities for repentance will reveal themselves.

Here is a poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar recognizing in the Exodus the struggle of his people in America.

An Ante-Bellum Sermon

We is gathahed hyeah, my brothahs,
In di howlin’ wildaness,
Fu’ to speak some words o comfo’t
to each othah in distress.
An’ we choose fu’ ouah subjic’
Dis—-we’ll ‘splain it by an’ by;
“An’ de Lawd said, “Moses, Moses,”
An’ de man said, Hyeah am I.'”

Now ole Pher’oh, down in Egypt
Was de wuss man evah bo’n,
An’ he had de Hebrew chillun
Down dah wukin’ in his co’n;
‘Twell de Lawd got tiahed o’ his foolin’,
an’ sez he: “I’ll let him know’
Look hyeah, Moses, go tell Pher’oh
Fu’ to let dem chillun go.”

“An’ ef he refuse do it,
I will make him rue de houah,
fu’ I’ll empty down on Egypt
All de vials of my powah.”
Yes, he did—-an’ Pher’oh’s ahmy
Wasn’t wurth a ha’f a dime;
Fu’ de Lawd will he’p his chillum,
You kin trust him evah time.

An’ you’ enemies may ‘sail you
In de back an’ in de front;
But de Lawd is all aroun’ you,
Fu’ to ba’ de battle’s brunt.
Dey kin fo’ge yo’chains an’ shackles
F’om de mountains to de sea;
But de Lawd will sen’ some Moses
Fu’ to set his chilun free.

An’ de lan’ shall hyeah his thundah,
Lak a blas’ f’om Gab’el’s ho’n,
Fu’ de Lawd of hosts is mighty
When he girds his ahmor on.
But fu’ feah some one mistakes me,
I will pause right hyeah to say,
Dat I’m still a-preachin’ ancient,
I ain’t talkin’ bout to-day.
But I tell you, fellah christuns,
Things’ll happen mighty strange;
Now, de Lawd done dis fu’ Isrul,
An’ his ways don’t nevah change,
An’ de love he showed to Isrul
Wasn’t all on Isrul spent;
Now don’t run an’ tell yo’ mastahs
Dat I’s preachin’ discontent.

‘Cause I isn’t; I’se a-judgin’
Bible people by dier ac’s;
I’se a-givin’ you de Scriptuah,
I’se a-handin’ you de fac’s.
Cose ole Pher’or b’lieved in slav’ry,
But de Lawd he let him see,
Dat de people he put bref in,
Evah mothah’s son was free.

An’ dah’s othahs thinks lak Pher’or,
But dey calls de Scriptuah liar,
Fu’ de Bible says “a servant
Is worthy of his hire,”
An’ you cain’t git roun’ nor thoo dat,
An’ you cain’t git ovah it,
Fu’ whatevah place you git in,
Dis hyeah Bible too’ll fit.

So you see de Lawd’s intention,
Evah sence de worl’ began,
Was dat His almight freedom
Should belong to evah man,
But I think it would be bettah,
Ef I’d pause agin to say,
Dat I’m talkin’ ’bout ouah freedom
In a Bibleistic way.

But de Moses is a-comin’,
An’ he’s comin’, suah and fas’
We kin hyeah his feet a-trompin’,
We kin hyeah his trumpit blas’.
But I want to wa’n you people,
Don’t you git too brigity;
An’ don’t you git to braggin’
“Bout dese things, you wait an’ see.

But when Moses wif his powah
Comes an’ sets us chillun free,
We will praise de gracious Mastah
Dat has gin us liberty;
An’ we’ll shout ouah halleluyahs,
On dat mighty reck’nin’ day,
When we’se reco’nised ez citiz’
Huh uh! Chillun, let us pray!

Source: Johnson, James Weldon, The Book of American Negro Poetry (c. 1922 by Harcourt Brace & Company). Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872–1906) was one of America’s first influential African American poets. He grew up in Dayton, Ohio where he lived with his widowed mother. His poetic skill became evident already in high school. The only black student in his class, he was elected class president and class poet. Though he was never able to obtain a college education, he read voraciously. His early poetry gained the admiration and respect of influential poets such as James Whitcomb Riley. With the support of Orville Wright, then in the publishing business, Dunbar was able to publish his first book of poetry. His popularity continued to grow and in 1896 he was invited for a six month reading tour in England to present his poetry. He returned in 1897, married fellow writer Alice Ruth Moore and took a clerkship position in the U.S. Library of Congress, a job that left him time to continue his writing career. Tragically, Dunbar’s physical and psychological health began to deteriorate in 1902, leading to his eventual divorce. He became fatally ill in 1905 and died in February of the following year.

You can find out more about Paul Laurence Dunbar and sample more of his poetry at the Poetry Foundation Website.

FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Isaiah 64:1-9

Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19

1 Corinthians 1:3-9

Mark 13:24-37

Prayer of the Day: Stir up your power, Lord Christ, and come. By your merciful protection waken us to the threatening dangers of our sins, and keep us blameless until the coming of your new day, for you live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“[God] will also strengthen you to the end, so that you may be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.” I Corinthians 1:8.

OK. It was cheesy, simplistic, inconsistent with astrophysics and woefully lacking in cinematic effects judged by today’s standards. But it was hopeful, idealistic and forward looking. I am speaking of the original Star Trek series that aired on NBC from 1966-1969. Its producer, Gene Roddenberry, managed to create a universe in which racial, ethnic and geopolitical strife had been overcome on a planet earth united and playing a leadership role within the fictional United Federation of Planets. There were, to be sure, continuing vestiges of prejudice to be addressed. In one episode, Captain Kirk must remind a crew member, suspicious Vulcan first officer Spack’s loyalty, that “bigotry will not be tolerated on this ship.” Yet even this testified to the show’s forward looking world view.  Yes, there were still sexist stereotypes, i.e., female officers attired in miniskirts and usually in subordinate positions. True, the twenty-third century communicators were clunkier than our 1990s flip phones, to say nothing of the smart phone. But the overall message still rings clear. The future lies in global unity, scientific inquiry and ever increasing understanding of the universe.   

Watching the re-runs today, it is hard for me to imagine this series catching on in today’s culture. Perhaps that is why the subsequent Star Trek series tended to be darker, more cynical and less hopeful. So far from a future characterized by a united globe pressing forward to encounter new civilizations where “no man has gone before,” ours is a world where, at home and abroad, the cries of “nation first” and anti-global sentiment are on the rise. Argentina is the latest nation to succumb to fascist populism, joining nations in eastern Europe. Fascism has largely taken over the Republican party[1] and appears poised to seize power in the upcoming election. The old gods of nation, race, blood and soil have all but swallowed up hope for a peaceful and united planet. Indeed, “globalism” is now the major hobgoblin of the populist right.

These fascist ideologues have one thing in common. They are all convinced that the future is in the past, a place in time when all was right with the world and to which we need somehow to get back. Call this “againism.” There was a time before LGBQT+ folk came out of the closet and ruined the institution of marriage; a time before black men forgot their place and started taking our jobs, filling up our television screens with their faces and started dating our women. There was a time when English was the only language you ever saw on a sign. There was a time when the way a man chose to discipline his family was his own damn business and the cops, school teachers and nosey social workers didn’t interfere. There was a time when women respected their men, dressed like women and stuck to the woman’s natural work of homemaking instead of trying to wear pants to a man. That golden age, that time when the country was great, has been stolen from us and we have to take it back. We have to make America great “again.” If you have any doubts about precisely what that means, the leader of the Republican party made that very clear to us on his media platform, Truth Social:  It means to “root out the Communists, Marxists, Fascists, and Radical Left Thugs that live like vermin within the confines of our country.”[2] Only then will America be great-again.

Againism is, of course, a dead end. A future in some imaginary past is not in the cards. It won’t happen. There are too many of us vermin to extinguish, no matter how many of us are killed in the service of futile efforts to get back to “again.” Adolph Hitler couldn’t bring back the mythical golden age of Aryan supremacy and neither can that sad little Mussolini wannabe down in Mar-a-Lago. That might seem like cold comfort and, by itself, it is. But there is more. There is a future. It is not in the past and it belongs to the God who raised Jesus from death. Unlike the “againist” longing for a purified nation, untainted blood and changeless cultural norms which is so lame and fragile that it must be defended by border walls, racial gerrymandering and the banning of books, God’s future is radically inclusive, culturally diverse and wide open:

“After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands. They cried out in a loud voice, saying,
‘Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the Lamb!’
And all the angels stood around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures, and they fell on their faces before the throne and worshipped God, singing,
‘Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom
and thanksgiving and honor
and power and might
be to our God for ever and ever! Amen.’” Revelation 7:9-12

Hanging onto that vision of inclusiveness and global kinship is difficult in times like ours when it seems as though our world is dissolving into nationalism, tribalism and sectarian violence. It was no less so for Jesus’ disciples who weathered the final days of their nation’s occupation and brutal destruction. I can well understand their wanting Jesus to tell them “when will this be, and what will be the sign when these things are to be accomplished?” Mark 13:4. But Jesus will not give them either a map or an itinerary. Not only will the temple of Jerusalem be destroyed, but there will be wars, rumors of war, earthquakes and famines. These events will convince many that the end must be near. They are mistaken. No one knows the “when.” Not even Jesus. Mark 13:32. What Jesus does know and what he tells his disciples is that there will be a long road of suffering during which they must bear witness to the just, gentle and peaceful reign of God he proclaims in the midst of rival kingdoms each bent on dominance and control. Those who cling to that vision, who endure to the end will be saved.

All of this might sound bleak, but there is more than a glimmer of good news in all of this. Jesus tells us that all of these dread events are not death throws, but birth pangs. God is at work forging a new creation in the midst of this troubled world. Just as God turned a violent, oppressive and cruel Egyptian empire into the womb within which the people of Israel were birthed and freed, just as Jesus’ death and resurrection transformed the Roman Empire’s symbol of terror into a sign of victory, so you can be sure that God will turn the violence of our nation’s and the world’s racism, xenophobia, patriarchy and homophobic violence into yet another demonstration of its utter impotence. That might take some time. But God has all eternity to work with.  

Ultimately, today’s gospel is, above all else, hopeful. I think that is the right note on which to enter the season of Advent. After all, the failed religion of “againism” is a religion of despair and desperation. It is a religion that lives in terror of the future and spends itself in a fruitless effort to keep it at bay. The good news Jesus brings assures us that the future is not to be regarded with dread, but embraced in hope, a hope enabling one to endure until it is finally realized in its fullness.

Here is a poem that speaks elequently of hope by Emily Dickenson. It sounds the hopeful note on which we ought to enter this new church year.

Hope is a Thing with Feathers

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –

That perches in the soul –

And sings the tune without the words –

And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –

And sore must be the storm –

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –

And on the strangest Sea –

Yet – never – in Extremity,

It asked a crumb – of me.

Source: The Poems of Emily Dickinson: Reading Edition, (c. 1999 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College; edited by Ralph W. Franklin, ed., Cambridge, Mass.) Emily Dickinson (1830-1866) is indisputably one of America’s greatest and most original poets. Born in Amherst, Massachusetts, she attended a one-room primary school in that town and went on to Amherst Academy, the school out of which Amherst College grew. In the fall of 1847 Dickinson entered Mount Holyoke Female Seminary where students were divided into three categories: those who were “established Christians,” those who “expressed hope,” and those who were “without hope.” Emily, along with thirty other classmates, found herself in the latter category. Though often characterized a “recluse,” Dickinson kept up with numerous correspondents, family members and teachers throughout her lifetime. You can find out more about Emily Dickinson and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

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[1] I fear my Republican friends might take offense to this characterization of their party. Too bad. You have demonstrated again and again that, as much as you might loath Donald Trump, as long as the clear majority of your party supports him, you will support him also. With the exception of former New Jersey governor Chris Christi, every single Republican nominee pledged to support Donald Trump should he be nominated by their party-and to pardon him of every crime he might be found guilty in the unlikely event they themselves should be elected. If you haven’t the courage and initiative to fix up your home, don’t complain that people criticize you for living in a dump.   

[2] To be fair, Donald Trump’s campaign representative, Steven Cheung, pointed out that these remarks were not threatening in the least. Those who are concerned about Trump violently attacking his opponents are suffering from “Trump Derangement Syndrome.” What Trump really meant to say of his political opponents, says Cheung, was that “their entire existence will be crushed when President Trump returns to the White House.” Whew! I feel so much better now!