Second Sunday of Advent
Scripture Reading for Today:
Four-Letter Word
by Cathleen Getchell
There is a four-letter word I am not particularly fond of at the moment. I suppose it makes sense in some situations. In other circumstances, I can hear it without getting annoyed. But where I am right now, in this season of life, with growing disillusionment, mounting frustration, transitions looming, and uncertainty around the corner, I am admittedly just not in a place to hear it.
I wonder if Isaiah’s audience felt similarly. The people of Israel were living in turmoil, having been exiled when the Assyrian empire conquered much of the region. They are looking for words of hope and comfort—a promise that peace is on the other side of their pain. What they are offered is a four-letter word. The word is “will.” In just the first 10 verses of Isaiah chapter 11, the word “will” (or “shall,” depending on your translation) is used 23 times.
Every occurrence serves as a reminder of what is not yet. I get it—the word “will” denotes hope, a hope for the peace that is to come. We cling to that hope.
But what about right now? What about our individual and collective yearning for peace in the present? What weight does the word “will” have for those in Ukraine under attack? How much solace does “will” offer to those who continue to face oppression and marginalization such as women, BIPOCs, and those whose identity includes LGBQT2S+. What immediate comfort does “will'' offer individuals going through the dark night of the soul? How much peace does “will” offer in our real and present sufferings?
How does it make you feel when, in the depths of your despair, someone with the best of intentions tells you “Everything will be okay”? On a cosmic level, this is true, but in this present life, in this very real moment, things are not as they should be. They are not okay. I'm curious how long the hope of "will" sustained Isaiah's listeners and their descendants, who were still in exile for another 70 years after hearing these words.
When contemplating that Isaiah's words of hope and comfort only materialized in the birth of the Christ child, 704 years after they were first spoken, how long did it take for the Israelite’s hope-filled embrace of "will" to turn into the pushback of "when?”
There is tension in hearing these words of Isaiah in the midst of present pain and suffering. Although the word “will” provides some hope, it does little to promote peace. I resonate more with the words of the Psalmist, who in the first seven verses of Psalm 72 uses the word “may” just as many times.
The ones who are suffering are praying for a deliverer to come and bring justice. Justice for the oppressed, the poor, the weak, and the needy. Justice against their oppressors. “May he judge your people with righteousness, and your poor with justice... May he defend the cause of the poor of the people, give deliverance to the needy, and crush the oppressor.” The Psalm begins with cries for justice, and then in verse 7, the stanza closes with “...may righteousness flourish and peace abound...” It begins with justice and ends in peace. I am reminded of the words of civil rights and peace activist Reverend Martin Luther King Jr.: “Without justice there can be no peace.”
This isn’t some clever political catchphrase. Jesus taught that true peace cannot exist without justice, which is a fundamental part of the Kingdom of God. The parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:29–37) demonstrates that justice is to be applied equally to all people, regardless of their social or economic status. Justice contributes to a society where everyone is treated with dignity and respect. (Luke 6:31).
Jesus' own self-sacrificing death reveals that the justice that leads to peace is based on mercy and compassion. The kind of justice that leads to genuine peace is when we love one another as Christ has loved us. “As I have loved you, so must you love one another.” (John 13:34) In the words of Jimi Hendrix, “When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.” Paul, in his epistle to the Romans, exhorts the Christian believers to live in peace and harmony with one another, following the example of Jesus (15:5).
When striving to live in harmony, we work together to create a more just and equitable environment where everyone is treated fairly and with dignity.
No Justice – No Peace.
Know Justice – Know Peace.
The combined passages from Isaiah 11 and Psalm 72 seem to me to capture our lived experience. Our clinging to a hope for future peace, which we know in Christ is already ours, while pleading for a present peace that is in many ways still unknown. On the one hand, Peace has already come in our deliverer, and redeemer, the Christ, but at the same time we do not often experience this practical peace in the present, and still we look forward with hope to the perfect and everlasting peace that is to come. So here I am, in the midst of the mystery, straddling a peace that is both mine now and awaits me but is in several ways still unrealized in my present experience.
In the Lectionary’s Gospel selection from Matthew chapter 3:1–12, John is preparing the way for Jesus, the Messiah, who will bring peace to the world. In this passage, John calls the people to repentance. Metanoia is the Greek term used here for repentance; it means to change one’s mind in such a way that it alters how we live and love. In verse 8, John is recorded as saying, “bear fruit worthy of repentance.” Might peace be a fruit we both bear and reap as we allow the transforming work of the Spirit to change the way we view God, our world, and the people in it?
In this metanoia that Christ makes possible, peace draws nearer. We prepare the way for Jesus, the way for peace with justice. To the degree that we do so, the peace that is made possible through Christ—the peace that is promised “will” come—does come, within ourselves, as peace for others and peace in this world, even as we wait for the coming of Christ again, who will bring the fullness of perfect peace to fruition once and for all.
I continue to live in the tension of the mystery of peace, knowing peace has come and clinging to the hope that peace “will” come, even as I prayerfully plead that Christ may deliver me, deliver us, and lead us into greater peace. A peace I recognize I reap and bear by acknowledging my ongoing need for the grace of Christ-enabled metanoia.
Thank you for reading the New Leaf Advent Reader, a collection of reflections from writers across Canada. If you are enjoying the reader, sign up to receive the readings in your inbox each day here: SIGN UP
And please share this reflection with your friends and family who might also enjoy it.