A reflection on Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11 for the Third Sunday in Advent

Listen to the reflection.

Bring clothes that can get dirty. An important part of the packing list when we go on Mission/Adventure trips.  Whether we’re working in gardens or on painting projects or cutting up chickens at soup kitchens or playing with kids, we anticipate that we’re going to get a little messy.  It’s part of the fun.  It’s part of the adventure.  I also go in with the hope that our clothes won’t be the only things that change.  I also hope that we, the ones doing the work, will be changed...by the people we meet and the conversations that we have and the realities that we see in this world.  I hope that we see the messiness of the world--the injustice and the hunger and the hopelessness--and are moved to make a difference.  To do something that works toward God’s promised future--where good news is proclaimed to the oppressed and broken hearts begin to feel healed and the promise of liberty is heard and those who are held captive know that release is possible.  It’s part of what I understand as our calling as Christians and it is one of the greatest privileges I have--to be on the front line to see the wheels turning in the heads of our kids--the thoughts beginning to form--“It doesn’t have to be this way and I want to do something to make a difference.”

When this text from Isaiah was written, God’s people were frustrated.  They had returned to Jerusalem from exile.  They expected to restore the city to its former glory.  To rebuild the temple.  They had hoped that economic disparities would be corrected; that the factions--both religious and political--within the city would work together, for good.  And it wasn’t happening.  It wasn’t happening fast enough; it wasn’t really happening at all.  In exile they had grandiose visions of their return to the holy city.  They had hoped for so much.  And it just wasn’t happening.  The injustices remained, the temple was not yet restored.  They were losing hope.  They were losing sight of the promise given to them by God.  And, in the midst of that, a promise breaks through.  In the midst of the messiness and disappointment and frustration, a promise is given to bring good news, to bind up, to proclaim liberty, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, to comfort, to provide, to give the accoutrements of gladness, rather than mourning.  

Something really cool happens in the text year here.  If we count the “to’s”--infinitives for you grammar geeks out there--there are seven.  And in the Old Testament, seven is a number that symbolizes completeness.  With these seven promises, those who heard this way back would have heard a promise that God would do everything to comfort and liberate, to restore and bring to completion.  Even in the midst of their losing hope and their frustration, a promise broke through that God wasn’t done yet and that God would continue working to bring everything to completion--to usher in a day when those who mourn are comforted and broken hearts are healed and liberty is not only proclaimed, but enacted.  When that which belongs to someone is restored to them and the oppressed hear good news and mourning turns to celebration.  God will do everything to make this happen.

This is really good news.  It’s really good news that we yearn for.  It’s really good news that, if we’re really honest, we want to see come to it’s completion.  Because, while we certainly see glimpses of these things happening, we also yearn for the day when it is true, really, wholly fulfilled.  Even as we look to Christ and dwell deeply in faith that this promise has been made true, we still look around and realize that is one of those already and not yet promises.  We trust that it is fulfilled and we wait for it to be fulfilled.  We live in this in-between time, catching glimpses of its fulfillment, yearning for completion.  

I suspect I am not the only one frustrated by the news.  I’m saddened by news of famine and curable diseases claiming too many lives.  I’m disheartened by the devastation of creation.  I’m disappointed in leaders and in the ways so little seems to be done for those who need food and water and shelter and justice now.  I’m frustrated by the ways that some see faith as something that is useless and silly, and by the ways others use it to harm and hurt those on the “outside.”  I’m impatient and I’m sick of waiting.  In this Advent season, I desperately yearn for the fulfillment of God’s promise that these injustices and disparities will come to an end.  That good news will be brought and the mourning will be comforted and the prisoners will be released from whatever it is that holds them.  The song “Lost in the Night,” asks in a haunting way “Will that day come soon?”

Maybe it’s the anticipation of Advent, maybe it’s the way the news seems to be an endless stream of hopelessness, but the yearning for this promised new day is forefront in my mind today.  And so I keep reading and see “for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation, he has covered me with the robe of righteousness.”  As one commentator wrote, “A new future is possible because...God has provided the appropriate work clothes.”(1)  It’s a kick in the pants.  Stop sulking in the muck of the world and pull on the work clothes that God has given you.  Get ready to get dirty.  Start confronting those messages of despair and hopelessness and start proclaiming a better message.  A message that is filled with hope and promise.  A message that is true not just for some far off, distant, pie-in-the sky future, but for today.  The truth is, God has given us the work clothes.  Don’t we say in baptism we are clothed in Christ?  We are given a commission to shine light in the darkness--not our own light, but Christ’s.  We given a message to proclaim to a world that needs it so desperately--not our own message, but Christ’s.  We know a promise that resonates deep within us and it begs to be told.  A message where the captives are freed and the brokenhearted healed and the mourning comforted.  A message of hope and promise.  A message for today.

Though we think of that baptismal garment being white and pure, the truth is that those work clothes God gives us are meant to get dirty.  They’re meant to get the stuff of the world all over them as we pull them on and proclaim the message--with our hands and feet and from deep within our hearts--that God’s reign has already come.  That God’s promise of mercy and justice is for now.  That God has given us the tools to work for justice, to bring good news, and to free those held captive by injustice, or disease, or despair.  In Christ, we are made free.  In Christ, we are given hope.  In Christ, we are given what we need to do the hard work of ushering in a kingdom that has already, but not-yet, come.  

Where you see a need, address it.  Where you see despair, proclaim hope.  Where you see a broken heart, do what you can to mend it.  Where you see chains, unbind them.  Where you see darkness, proclaim good news.  Christ has given us the clothes.  It’s our job to go get them dirty, and in doing so, we see the light of Christ shining brightly on this new day.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

And a little video bonus:  "Lost in the Night."

(1) Elna K. Solvang on www.workingpreacher.com for 12/11/2011

Wild Word of the Week: Peace

of the week:
PEACE

Josh

Barb

Kirsten

Next week's

**A little Wild Word of the Week note: Photos do not have to be taken during this week, although that is certainly encouraged.  If there's a photo that jumps to your mind when you see the word, send that one!  We love to see the variety!**

"O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree"

On Sunday night, Justin and I had our first dinner party since my arrival in Oberlin.  Though it was not totally necessary, I really wanted to get our Christmas tree up before everyone arrived.  So on Sunday afternoon, we decorated the tree (which had, admittedly, been standing sans lights or decorations in its place for a few days).  It's always fun to put up the tree and, perhaps because I'm in a new home, I was especially nostalgic while putting up the ornaments.

Our tree is a mix of ornaments we have collected together over our four plus years of marriage, a few of his, and a few of mine.  We try to remember to pick up some little ornament when we go on trips or a trinket that can easily be made into one.  Most, though not all, of the ornaments have stories--either because they came from someone, or somewhere, special.  Like many Christmas trees, ours becomes a way to tell stories of our past, to remember those we love, and to celebrate the joy that this season brings.

Justin suggested an Advent exercise of telling ornament stories.  So, dear reader, here's your assignment: Take a photo of your favorite Christmas ornament and send the photo to me, along with the story.  I'll post them as they come in.  And I promise to include one of my own...I just have to figure out which story to tell.  May this be a way to help us remember the ways that God has worked in and through those around us, blessing us with sweet memories, and giving us hope in this season of anticipation of the coming of our Lord.

Wednesday Witness: John Frederick Oberlin (1740-1826)

The other day, Justin and I took the dog for a walk and he had a very specific place he wanted to go.  "I want to show you my favorite piece of art on campus," he said.  We walked through the quad to a little stone pillar, with a dedication to the school's namesake, John Frederick Oberlin, who was a pastor in Alsace, France.  "I wonder if he was Lutheran?" Justin pondered, "Alsace is the German part of France."  Which, of course, got me thinking.

John Frederick Oberlin
(image from Oberlin College's website)

So with a little bit of Google searching, I found out that Oberlin was, in fact, a Lutheran pastor.  He was a passionate advocate of education, and worked tirelessly for the benefit of his parishioners.  He "practiced medicine among them, founded a loan and savings bank, introduced cotton manufacture, helped the people build better roads, and brought in modern agricultural methods." The monument Justin showed me has a beautiful piece of art work, which viewed from one side is a rose and from the other is a bird.  According to the monument, Oberlin used this during his pastoral counseling to show that "people with diverse perspectives can live in friendship with one another."  


According to the Oberlin College Archives, the founders of the college had read a biography of Oberlin and were "inspired to create a new community and institution of higher learning, in what was then a wilderness, for scholars and students who wished to be of service to others and change the world for the better, as Oberlin had done in a remote region in Alsace."

Photo credit

As I get to know my new community better, it's been fun to learn this little fun fact about a Lutheran brother who witnessed from across the globe and gave the name to this community.  Although I've not been here long, Justin's speaks of the passion his students bring to the classroom, community, and world, and I suspect I will see that more and more as I have a chance to visit with students.  They continue to live, perhaps unknowingly, into the legacy set by their college's namesake.  A little known (at least to me) witness to the way God calls us to be at work in the world!

Tuesday's Text--Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11

The first reading for the third Sunday of Advent is Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11.

The spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, 

because the LORD has anointed me; 

he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, 

to bind up the brokenhearted, 

to proclaim liberty to the captives, 

and release to the prisoners; 

² to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor, 

and the day of vengeance of our God; 

to comfort all who mourn; 

³ to provide for those who mourn in Zion-- 

to give them a garland instead of ashes, 

the oil of gladness instead of mourning, 

the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit. 

They will be called oaks of righteousness, 

the planting of the LORD, to display his glory. 

⁴ They shall build up the ancient ruins, 

they shall raise up the former devastations; 

they shall repair the ruined cities, 

the devastations of many generations.

For I the LORD love justice, 

I hate robbery and wrongdoing; 

I will faithfully give them their recompense, 

and I will make an everlasting covenant with them. 

⁹ Their descendants shall be known among the nations, 

and their offspring among the peoples; 

all who see them shall acknowledge 

that they are a people whom the LORD has blessed. 

¹⁰ I will greatly rejoice in the LORD, 

my whole being shall exult in my God; 

for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation, 

he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, 

as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland, 

and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. 

¹¹ For as the earth brings forth its shoots, 

and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, 

so the Lord GOD will cause righteousness and praise 

to spring up before all the nations.

What good news to you see in this text?

What questions do you have?

What don't you understand?

How does this apply to you/us today?

A reflection on Isaiah 40:1-11

 

Listen to the reflection.

Click here to see a photo of the windows in Fairchild Chapel.

Last night, Justin and I took in an amazing concert by a student group, Collegium Musicum, here in Oberlin.  This group specializes in Renaissance music.  They sing completely a cappella, about 40 voices becoming like one.  The theme for this concert was angels and there were several times throughout the concert when I felt like I was listening to the angels themselves.  It was beautiful and powerful.  The kind of music that touches you deep in your soul and brings goosebumps to your skin.  I don’t think my words can even begin to do it justice.

As I listened to the angelic voices, singing the story of the angels of Scripture--the angels who proclaimed good news at Jesus’ birth, and greeted another Mary at the empty tomb; the angels who sang the holy, holy, holy in Isaiah--I gazed upon the incredible stained glass windows behind the choir.  The little chapel where the concert was held has five beautiful windows.  The center depicts the last supper and two on either side depict stories of Scripture, with the evangelists looking up watching the stories unfold.  They are absolutely stunning.  And this was at night.  I haven’t been in yet during the day, but apparently they are even more beautiful when the sun shines through the colored glass, illuminating this sacred space.  

As the choir sang parts of Palestrina’s Christmas Mass, Missa Hodie Christus Natus Est, I listened to the same words, though sung in Latin, that we sing: “Holy, holy, holy” and “Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world” and Isaiah’s promise, “The grass withers and the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever,” echoed in my head.  In December 2011, we listened to pieces that were written well over five hundred years ago, telling the stories that had transpired nearly fifteen hundred years before they were written.  I thought about how many voices had sung these words.  I thought about the ways that these words unite us, across time and space.  And I thought about how this promise is even more powerful: the word of our God will stand forever.

In a world that seems to be ever fleeting, where things are constantly changing and it sometimes seems like nothing is ever permanent, we hear this promise.  In a season that is so much about anticipating and waiting and watching for the Word that becomes flesh and dwells among us, we hear that the word of our God will stand forever.  God’s word of grace and mercy, love and forgiveness stands.  Forever.  In a world that seeks revenge, where so many are hurt by lies and deception, God’s word stands, filling us with hope.  Giving us something to grasp to in times when we don’t know which end is up.  Reminding us, once again, that we are named and claimed in God’s word and that will last forever.

How many generations have heard these words?  How many generations have clung to this promise and shared it with their children?  How many have heard hope in the midst of despair? How many have cried out and, somehow, received comfort in knowing that God’s word, God’s care, God’s love, will stand forever?  We stand in a long line, we continue to live into the great promise of life in Christ, we continue to be fed at Christ’s table, and nourished by the Word that becomes flesh and lives among us.  We continue to tell the story to our children so that, they too, will know that in the midst of withering grass and fading flowers, God’s word stands.  In the midst of that we cannot understand, God’s word stands.  In this crazy world, God promises to be among us.  We hear the words of comfort and we do our best to live into that message that is so unbelievably true.  We mourn the loss of loved ones or the way things were or what we thought would last, and then we look once again to the One who, as the hymn He Comes to Us as One Unknown proclaims, “comes in truth when faith is grown; believed, obeyed, adored; the Christ in all the scriptures shown, as yet unseen, but not unknown.”

Whether we read it in Scripture, our hear it in music or on the lips of those we love, or from total strangers, God’s word continues to come to us.  Where ever grace, mercy, love, and forgiveness are proclaimed, we catch glimpses of Christ among us.  That is the promise of God’s word that stands forever.  And that is very, very good news indeed.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

Wild Word of the Week: Hope

of the week:
HOPE

Cindy

Cindy

Jenna

Kirsten

Next week's

of the week:

PEACE

Email photos to pastorkirsten(at)gmail.com