Third Sunday of Advent
Scripture Reading for Today:
The Audacity to Hope
by Bernard Tam
Advent is one of my favourite seasons in the church calendar. Scott Erikson, in Honest Christmas, writes: “Advent means ‘coming’ in Latin, and these weeks are meant to prepare our hearts, minds, and souls for the arrival of God-with-Us, Jesus Christ, born to the virgin Mary a couple of millennia ago. You’re supposed to feel the wait – the anticipated arrival of something you want so badly – and by feeling the wait deeply, you’ll be even more satisfied by the celebration of the arrival of Christmas Day.” This sense of anticipation and waiting; longing for the arrival is considerably different than much of our practices of Christmas. The focus is on Christmas Day instead of tending to the Advent season. It can be a meticulous and intentional time of pausing the hectic rush of holiday shopping, festivities and the frantic to-do lists, time to consider hope.
Recently, on a recent day off from school, I had taken my kids downtown to explore. I hoped to take them on a walk to explore different parts of the downtown core and to encourage them to listen, observe, learn and be curious about our city.
That morning we visited the rush of a busy mall; observing the Christmas music, beaming lights, Santa visits, massive Christmas trees and the abundance of sales. Right beside the mall was a small church with a memorial known as the homeless memorial. This little spot was to remember all the homeless who have died in the city. Immediately beside the memorial were small tents where people without homes lived. The juxtaposition between the mall and this tiny church was palpable. It was like two different worlds adjacent to one another living parallel lives; anticipating Christmas.
As we stood in the in-between, I paused to consider the different circumstances surrounding hope. Christmas (particularly through the Advent season) is about anticipated hope. In the midst of the fury and the cold, I wonder how people are engaging or sitting with hope? Considering people who have homes and those who do not, people who have family and those who have not, people in war-torn situations and those living in relative peace, what does hope look like? Do circumstances make it difficult to hope?
In today’s lectionary reading we are directed to Isaiah 61. Isaiah was attributed to writing these words in a time of disturbance for the Israelites. They were living in captivity while waiting and hoping for God’s messianic restoration. Etched in these words is the longing for the arrival of someone. Someone who is sent by and anointed by God. This person is bringing good and hope-filled news to the people. Not just the message of good but the tangible good and hope.
This person will recognize the broken-hearted, the captives, the marginalized, the lost, and the prisoners in the community. They will bring freedom and healing. The Jubilee, the long-awaited Jubilee is upon us. The sacred and restorative mulligan, a chance to start again. The words of Isaiah paint this kind of hope for generations of people.
It would be another few hundred years between Isaiah and the arrival of Jesus. In Luke’s writing, we are reminded of Jesus proclaiming these very words from Isaiah and declaring “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” How long have the people waited for this fulfillment?
But at the same time, we also recognize that disbelief and the loss of hope. Even these beautiful words Isaiah wrote became mere words on paper. Those hearing Jesus read and speak, were stuck to a hope that they have manufactured. It is very different than the disruptive, subversive, transformative and renewing message and embodiment of hope that Jesus brings. Is Isaiah 61 possible? The good news to the marginalized? To experience the day of the Lord? To the absence of mourning?
As we enter into this season of Advent what does hope look like for you?
Does our hope resemble the audacious words of Jesus; the fulfillment of the impossible?
Could these Advent quiet moments bring us to a place where we can open up to this kind of hope (particularly in such a time as these)?
Perhaps it is hard for you to hope; weighed down by the burdens and trials of life and society.
Could we (the larger collective we) hope for others whose shoulders and hearts are burdened?
I close with a portion from A Liturgy of Longing by Rev. Sandra Maria Van Opstal (found in A Rhythm of Prayer, Edited by Sarah Bessey)
We believe you are at work bringing peace. Trust peace – flourishing, wholeness, and well-being. You defend the cause of the fatherless, motherless, and the widow.
You love the strangers…
We believe and we feel overwhelmed – sometimes it is hard to believe that you actually care about the injustice and suffering. When we don’t see your work. When we sense the apathy from the church. When we feel small and forget that we were designed to be different and make things different…
Give us courage to be honest with ourselves about why and how we are doing justice…
Enable us to discover the beauty of justice and inspire action in others. Embolden us to display your goodness in the world…
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