Advent 2 (7 December)
Readings: Isaiah 11:1-10; Psalm 72:1-7; 18-19; Matthew 3:1-12; Romans 15:4-13
Both the Gospel as well as the OT readings place the voice that reaches us today as a ‘voice crying out in the wilderness’. The wilderness plays an important role in the history of Israel. It was a liminal space – an in-between space – neither in slavery nor in the Promised land. In this sense resembling our own times: neither in despair nor in joy but often in fear of the unknown future, in dread of the dark clouds building on the horizons of history. There are many comforting and poignant promises in the bible, but I wonder if there is another one which is as powerful, as poignant and as comforting as this one: “They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.” (Isa 11:9) These prophetic texts are completely at odds with the world we know and experience. And exactly therefore they provide us with a vision of a powerful alternative, an alternative we don’t even dream about and something that comes to us as a surprising source of hope and peace. In fact, Paul reminds us in Romans 15:4 that this hope is the reason for the Scriptures. The purpose of the Scriptures is to give us hope. And this hope, Paul concludes in verse 13 is anchored in the “God of hope”. Hope, the Christian tradition teaches, has to do with our status as pilgrims, as resident aliens, as people of the wilderness. And hope in the well-known words of Rubem Alves is to hear the music of the future and faith is to dance to it. Hope in the bible is never based on the wish of a good outcome, but grounded in the faithfulness of God, as demonstrated in Jesus Christ. Hopeful peace is to trust the God of today, for the day of tomorrow.
Advent 3 (14 December)
Readings: Isaiah 35:1-10; Psalm 146:5-10; Matthew 11:2-11; James 5:7-10
The common theme that unites the readings of Advent 3 is one of anticipation and joy. Again, it is perhaps the prophetic reading that gives us the best view on the nature of this joy. Isaiah 35 begins with the most wonderful and exuberant vision: “The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus. It shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing.” However, in the context of the first 39 chapters of Isaiah, chapter 35 doesn’t make much sense. It is out of place. In the preceding chapters the threat of violence, revenge and judgement covers the earth like an impenetrable fog. In the following chapters the despair and despondency are palpable. Some scholars point to the ‘brilliant contrast’ with chapter 35. Many scholars think some later editor had moved it here; but why? There is no conclusive reason why this has happened but we know that the prophetic hope is always out of place. It always appears where least expected. In this sense its “out-of-place-chapter” has so much in common with joy. In many ways joy is like the floodwaters that break open a way for itself, disregarding and ignoring the structures we have built and the boundaries we put in place. Like a reed shaking in the wilderness-wind; a sure sign of the joy of rain and new life. As out of nowhere.
Advent 4 (21 December)
Readings: Isaiah 7:10-16; Psalm 80:1-7; 17-19; Matthew 1:18-25; Romans 1:1-7
Reading all four of the lectionary passages today yield interesting perspectives. In Isaiah 7 the key verse is 14: “Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immaneul.” In the Gospel the birth of this son is linked to both the heritage of David and the work of the Holy Spirit (mediated almost entirely through Mary). But the interesting perspective opens when one reads this alongside the Psalm and Romans 1. In both of these the expectation of restoration and new life is raised. This son of David will be one on whom the hand of God rests and who’ll be permeated by the power of God (Ps 80:17), but perhaps the entire purpose and focus of this boy’s birth, is articulated best by this verse: “Give us life, and we will call on your name.” (Ps 80:18) The promise, the hope, the love and peace (all the things we have remembered and celebrated during the advent Sundays) – they are about the restoration of life itself. But life is about more than breathing and eating; life has a name, life has an origin and a destiny. The Psalmist is not asking for a longer life. He’s not asking for extra years. He’s asking for the destruction and disappointment that he has seen to come to an end. He’s asking for a new chance, a new beginning. He’s asking for a good life; a life that is worth living. And the good news is: Christmas is coming…
Christmas Day (25 December)
Readings: Isaiah 62:6-12; Psalm 97; Luke 2:1-20; Titus 3:4-7
The Colour of Water is a kind of biography, written by a black American, James McBride, as a tribute to his white, Jewish mother. Her story is one of indescribable hardship, pain and suffering under an autocratic father, who not only sexually molested her from a very tender age, but who also made their lives a living hell. The result of these years of abuse was a fearful woman who lived with a very low self-esteem. Until she met James’ father, a black Baptist preacher. In a conversation with her son, she describes the change this man – his father – brought about in her life:
“I was afraid of my father and had no love for him at all. I dreaded him and I was relieved anytime he left the house. But it affected me in a lot of ways, what he did to me. I had very low self-esteem as a child, which I kept with me for many, many years… Your father changed my life. He taught me about a God who lifted me up and forgave me and made me new. I was lucky to meet him or I would’ve been a prostitute or dead. Who knows what would’ve happened to me. I was reborn in Christ. Had to be, after what I went through.”
Her rebirth in Jesus Christ brought about the end of what amounted to a slow, cruel and painful process of dying and the commencement of something new, something indescribable, and something which granted her the power to raise 12 children with a sense of self-worth, faith and meaning in life.
This is what we celebrate today (glimpsed in all the readings but most clearly in Titus): what had happened to the life of one person (Ruth), had with the coming of Jesus Christ happened to history and time. The time and the history of humankind were reborn. Set on a new trajectory: to life.
Christmas 1 (28 December)
Readings: Isaiah 63:7-9; Psalm 148; Matthew 2:13-23; Hebrews 2:10-18
These days between Christmas and New Year find themselves in a kind of no-man’s land. They’re sandwiched in between the feasts of Christmas and New Year. There’s a pause in the busyness. But perhaps most of all these days are marked by a kind of post-Christmas blues. And the reason for this blues is deeply serious question. What difference did the events of Christmas make? Christmas is about celebrating the coming of the prince of peace, yet all we see around us, is bickering, strife, violence and war.
Directly after Matthew’s account of the visit of the wise men – after the honour bestowed on the newborn child – the stories of the escape to Egypt and the massacre of infants follow. So the story of Christmas – of Jesus’ birth – is immediately followed by two other stories: one of persecution and another of genocide. Hence, the story of Jesus, right from the very start, is not a story of sweet supernatural pleasantries. And exactly this is the purpose of this story of the flight to Egypt and the massacre of infants: the birth of Christ takes place in the shadow of the cross. The birth takes place in a world of death. God’s beginning happens in a world that is bent on ending things. This means that Christmas is not the happy end to the story of God’s re-creation of God’s creation and creatures. The birth and coming of Christ is only the beginning. Christ’s birth is God’s invitation to humankind to join on this journey – a journey that is not characterized by our going to God, but by God’s coming to us. God came to us in Jesus. God is coming to us daily in the Spirit of Jesus. Life moves on but we expect the same Jesus, now, today, tomorrow, next year, yes even on this quiet day.
These Lectionary Reflections were prepared by Rev. Dr Ockert Meyer
