Challenging Gifts
Advent III, 2020
Isaiah 61:1-4,8-11 • John 1:6-8,19-29
There is a poem by the Australian poet, Kevin Hart, called ‘The Gift’. It begins:
“One day the gift arrives—outside your door Left on a windowsill, inside the mailbox, Or in the hallway, far too large to lift.
Your postman shrugs his shoulders, the police Consult a statute, and the cat miaows.
No name, no signature, and no address,
Only, “To you, my dearest one, my all...”
One day it fits snugly in your pocket,
Then fills the backyard like afternoon in Spring....
Advent is all about waiting, about expectation, about what is to come. It’s about our journey to the lowly stable in Bethlehem. But as I sat with today’s scriptures, I also started thinking about all the surprises that are wrapped up in this season of wreaths, candles and preparations.
Both this week and last week, we’ve re-encountered the magnificent figure of John the Baptist. We may have met him so many times before that we are no longer startled by his presence in our Advent narrative, but can you imagine meeting him for the first time? He comes to us, leaping out of the Judean wilderness; no shadowy figure but complete with wardrobe and dietary details, even some colorful language. Who can forget his excoriating ‘brood of vipers’ speech?
We can be so comfortable with the foundational narrative of our faith, that we can let the surprise, the extraordinary audacity of their message wash over our heads without letting ourselves be startled by their challenging gifts.
Today’s reading from Isaiah is known to us from not one, but two sources. We encounter it directly from the book of Isaiah in the Hebrew Scriptures, but we also find it in the Gospel of Luke. Jesus is invited to read in the synagogue of Nazareth, and this is the passage that is chosen. He concludes his reading by saying, “this day the scripture is fulfilled”. Fulfilled not just in the historical life and vocation of Jesus of Nazareth, but to be fulfilled through the body of the risen, spirit-filled Christ: in other words, us!
It is for us, through the body of Christ, to:
“to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners;
to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor...to comfort all who mourn.”
Kevin Hart, “New & Selected Poems”
It is for us to promote justice, salvation, righteousness, and healing – as it has been for all the generations before us, since the time of Isaiah, and all the generations that will follow us.
During his lifetime on earth, Jesus not only did everything he personally could do to live out this mandate, but he also worked tirelessly to teach it to all who would listen both in his own time, and through the help of the New Testament gospelers and writers, to subsequent centuries.
For those of us who embrace Jesus Christ as ‘the way, the truth, and the life’, how does he speak to us this Advent?
And as I begin thinking about my response to that question, I find myself entering into an Advent inspired, meditative place: a place that invites intimacy and introspection. A place that allows me the room to get past exhaustion, fear, anxiousness, denial and excuses. A place where I can sit quietly with the Risen Christ, opening my ears to hear and my eyes to see. Breathing in not only the cries and the darkness, but also the hope, the promise, and the gift.
And as my breathing quietens down, my restless busy-ness likewise calms. I move from the place of needing to do, to that much more constructive place of wanting to be. In that place I can begin to see beyond my anger and frustration to something that not only our scriptures are witnesses to, but of course nothing less than the voice and presence of the Risen Christ.
I can’t pretend to understand it, but the closest I can get to it, is to name it as Divine Truth. A Truth that is as important today, as it was two thousand years ago, indeed way beyond that. A Truth that invites us to take that step of faith, through Jesus Christ himself, to something incomprehensibly better and immeasurably more life-giving for the whole of creation. This is the gift that is given into the arms of each one of us. A gift given that also comes with choices: we can take our time with this precious gift. We can leave it sitting on the door-step. We can bring it inside, put it somewhere safe: maybe we’ll open it next year. We can carry it around in our pockets, perhaps for good luck.
What is certain is that it is a gift given to us by a God who has loved us for ever. Given, as in the words of our opening poem:
“To you, my dearest one, my all...”
And you may notice one of those yellow labels on one corner of the package:
Open with caution: all things are possible.