Sunday, December 11, 2016

Sing!

Isaiah 35:1-10
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. The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it, the majesty of Carmel and Sharon. They shall see the glory of the LORD, the majesty of our God. Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who are of a fearful heart, “Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God. He will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense. He will come and save you.” Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy. For waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water; the haunt of jackals shall become a swamp, the grass shall become reeds and rushes. A highway shall be there, and it shall be called the Holy Way; the unclean shall not travel on it, but it shall be for God’s people; no traveler, not even fools, shall go astray. No lion shall be there, nor shall any ravenous beast come upon it; they shall not be found there, but the redeemed shall walk there. And the ransomed of the LORD shall return, and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

Magnificat, sung to the setting called "Canticle of the Turning," you can find it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F9QeTmRCpW4

James 5:7-10
Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord. The farmer waits for the precious crop from the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains. You also must be patient. Strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is near. Beloved, do not grumble against one another so that you may not be judged. See, the Judge is standing at the doors! As an example of suffering and patience, beloved, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord.

Matthew 11:2-11
When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.” As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written, ‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’ Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.”

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Last week we heard John preaching fire. This week John has been arrested for that sermon and sits in prison, wondering if his work has been worthwhile. Everything he has spent his life preparing for is apparently unseen, uncertain, perhaps even a little unreal. Rome is still in control, pushing his people around, desecrating holy time and space with their military and cultural colonization. Religious leaders and institutions are still as corrupt as ever. And John has no idea if his work has made any difference at all, other than to make the people in power angry.

Seems a bit of an odd spot to be in this third Sunday of Advent. We light the pink candle and sing Mary’s Magnificat every year on this Sunday to mark it as a Sunday of joy, yet we have a story of John the Baptist sitting in prison, wondering if he had done the right thing by pointing to Jesus, or if he should have directed his life’s work toward another Messiah. Doesn’t sound very joyful to me. Sounds rather despairing, actually.

Which is why we connect this Gospel reading with the text from Isaiah. It’s why we spend Advent with this prophet in particular, whose story is told in three big parts across the history of God’s people being threatened with exile, living in exile, and returning from exile. Here in the 35th chapter of Isaiah, the prophet speaks to the experience of those who have been taken from their homes and forcibly moved to foreign lands. Their lives are dried up and sorrowful, feeling barren and under oppression. They are waiting for hope to appear, for a return to their homeland, for comfort and safety.

It’s a recurrent theme throughout scripture, of people under oppression waiting for salvation, hoping for peace, looking to be rescued by a savior sent from heaven. And John the Baptist thought the savior who would come with fire was appearing in the person of Jesus. Many people, still today, expect a great epic battle on earth to bring fire from heaven down on the heads of the oppressors and lift up the ones who've lived too long under both the boot of foreign armies and the guilt imposed by their own leaders. 

It’s also a recurrent theme today, isn’t it? People from many walks of life are feeling unheard, restricted, squashed, threatened, exiled, and erased. Whether it’s middle America struggling to figure out retirement and healthcare, women who aren’t taken seriously when they say ‘no,’ Native Americans who for generations have been lied to and abused and are still today having their rights stolen and ignored, Black men and women and children being assumed guilty at first sight, LGBTQ people being looked at as sexual freaks of nature, the poor being told they deserve their poverty, Muslims and refugees being automatically labeled as terrorists… it seems we will find any excuse to make one another ‘less than’ just to make ourselves feel better, stronger, more secure. This is *not* the way to the kingdom of God.

John the Baptist called us out on this behavior, and it got him killed. He fully expected Jesus the Messiah to come in like a raging fire and wipe the slate clean for a fresh start. We hear this hope in the song of Hannah, which Mary sang when the angel came to announce her pregnancy: “Let the king beware for your justice tears every tyrant from the throne. The hungry poor shall weep no more for the food they can never earn…” It’s a protest song, a rebellion song, out of the mouth of first a barren woman and then from a young girl pregnant outside of marriage.

Songs are the weapons of the oppressed. Remember the old spirituals that helped escaped slaves find their way north? Songs that reveal history and mock incompetent leaders. Songs that stick in the ear and move the heart. Songs that change minds and offer strength for standing up against injustice. Chants that spread across crowds at protests. And the song of Mary speaks to the hope that Jesus is, that Isaiah pointed to, that we still in many places long for today. The lame will leap like the deer, the deaf will hear, the voiceless will be heard again. John the Baptist wanted to know if Jesus was the Messiah, and Jesus responded with the witness of his ministry so far: look and see how the sick are healed, the poor hear good news, the clueless are made aware. The world is turning, the ones living underfoot are learning to stand up, the silenced are no longer keeping their heads down, the songs are still being sung, the hope is spreading.

We sing of joy this third Sunday of Advent because the oppressed and the oppressors are being made free. It’s a long and arduous process, to be sure. We are still living in it, for certain. But it is ongoing. The ones who refuse to hear are beginning to hear. The ones who refuse to see are beginning to see. The ones who have been silenced are having their voices projected all over the world. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at a God who loves the whole world, who declares all flesh is holy, who brings liberation to the captive and compassion to the hard of heart. When the oppressed rise up, and their dignity speaks to the dignity of all people, when the freedom of every person is recognized as tied up in the freedom of every person, when one group receives justice and sees to it that other groups also receive justice, when the hills and valleys of inequality are tumbled smooth into a direct pathway for homecoming, then we will truly recognize and know that the Messiah is among us. Then nothing will be able to silence our singing.

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