Isaiah
61:1-4, 8-11; Canticle 15; 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24; John 1:6-8,19-28
Waterboarding:
simulating drowning by placing a person’s head in a downward position and
pouring water into the person’s breathing passages. Denying a human being sleep for seven days.
Handcuffing a person’s arms over their heads for 22 hours straight, days in a
row.
Torture. Something we, as a civilized nation, have
sworn we would never do---not in any situation nor for any reason. President Reagan signed the United Nations
Treaty against torture in 1988. But
citizens of this country, members of our governmental agencies, have decided
they are above that law and have gone ahead, justifying their actions based on
fear and retaliation. They want to
persuade us that it is justifiable to treat human beings made in the image of
God as if they have no value, as if they were insensate refuse.
This
is the ages-old myth that we can stop violence and terror through more violence
and terror. That one nation or people
has greater rights and more value than another nation or people. This way of being---it shadows my heart and
causes me to question the point of it all.
If I live in a world, in a country, in a community where it can somehow
be “justified” to take these actions against another human being---then I begin
to wonder the relevance of it all. The
purpose. The point.
Senator
John McCain, a victim of torture himself during the Vietnam War, responded this
way: "But in the end, torture's failure to serve its intended purpose
isn't the main reason to oppose its use. I have often said, and will always
maintain, that this question isn't about our enemies; it's about us. It's about
who we were, who we are and who we aspire to be. It's about how we represent
ourselves to the world.
The devastating cruelty
of human beings pulls the rug out from under my feet. I cannot understand it or
explain it or condone it.
It makes me wonder
and question: God, what do we do with this human darkness? How do we deal with this despair---this
corrupted sense of justice---this inhumane behavior?
These are the same
questions I have when I see people I love having to deal with profound
loss---loss of a loved one from death; loss of relationship from divorce; loss
of groundedness from losing a job; loss of physical strength or mental capacity
due to illness and aging. What, God, do
we do with this despair----this brokenness---this pain and suffering that we
are guaranteed to have in this life?
As John Green writes
in the popular novel, The Fault in our
Stars, “The world is not a wish-granting factory.” We cannot wish away this pain, this
suffering. While miracles do happen,
often our reality isn’t that we are carried away from the pain, but that we have
to live through the pain, the darkness, the shattered worldview.
Today’s Word gives
hope; it gives us direction; it gives us promise, a way forward.
First, we are called
to believe. Believe that we are
anointed. To be anointed is to be set
apart to do God’s work---set apart and sealed by the Holy Spirit---and in our
anointing, if we make ourselves available and vulnerable to the work of the
Spirit, then we can be healed, restored, repaired. The Holy Spirit restores and repairs us
through Sacrament, through prayer, through the hands, the words, the actions of
our community.
When others forgive
us; when others offer us grace and mercy; when we are given that second and third
chance, healing takes place. Yes, we are
anointed at Baptism, but anointing continues to happen---the Holy Spirit
continues to rain down upon us---because we live this way of blessed community
found in the Church---the gathering of living members of the Body of
Christ---Jesus healing us, inviting us, restoring us---through these our
anointed sisters and brothers. These who
believe.
And as the anointed,
we are sent: sent to live in a new way:
to bring good news
to bind up wounds
to proclaim liberty and release
to provide for and comfort those who
mourn
We are the repaired
and those who repair
We are the restored
and those who restore
We are the healed
and those who heal
This is how in times
of great darkness and despair, we can exult in God. We believe this to be true. We believe that restoration can come with any
and every wound we receive, every loss we experience. We believe there is life after death---the
many deaths that come throughout our life----deaths of loved ones, deaths of
relationships, deaths of capabilities and securities; death of dreams and
futures. We, we Jesus followers, we know
and believe there is life after death---light breaking into the darkness.
And because we
believe this, we expect to see it---like Mary who knows that God is a God of
restoration and life. Therefore, Mary
expects to see and experience this upside-down world to be turned right-side
up. Mary expects to be held and
supported---even though God is asking her to cast aside her expected future,
her security and shelter and to completely trust in God’s sovereign power, Mary
expects God to bring her life and light.
Mary believes and expects to experience God’s favor.
Do our hearts really
live this truth---that we are favored?
Oh, this doesn’t simply mean that by our identifying ourselves as
Christians, we are blessed more than others.
God loves God’s people equally.
But we who proclaim that we are God-lovers, we are to expect that God
turns our despair and desolation back into life-giving light. That somehow, God will redeem the current
darkness and heal our very real woundedness.
I heard a story
recently about a woman who endured the atrocities of the Rwandan genocide. She saw men, women, and children brutally slaughtered,
raped, and beaten. This is a woman who
lost her loved ones, her family, her world.
She was asked how she managed to survive, how she found it possible to
go on. She replied: I couldn’t understand what was happening, why
it was happening, why it was allowed to happen---all I could know was: whose I am.
I am God’s. This is all I know. This is my truth.
Expect. Expectation.
Expectancy. For me, to expect
means to live in a sense of expectancy.
This is different than expectation.
Expectation has all kinds of boundaries around it. My expectations have set details and parameters. Expectation, to me, means: it will
be this way. Here
it is what it looks like. This
is how it will play out.
So, when I live in
expectation, God’s justice looks like this: the bad guys always lose and never
win; the good guys are recognized for their valor; the guy in the white hat
will live, no matter what, and ride off into the sunset, and the villain will
be thrown into jail and, (if it’s a really good version) he will finally see
the error of his ways.
When I live in
expectation, I am often disappointed.
Living in expectancy is a different story. It is Isaiah’s story and Mary’s story. They cannot tell you specifically what will
happen---but they do know that God’s love wins in the end. They do know that God’s justice---where the
lowly are lifted up and the hungry are filled and those who need help will
receive mercy and grace---they do know and expect this promise to come true.
And living in
expectancy---they see people healed, lives changed, and God working---right in
the midst of the tyranny and inhumanity of Roman rule---right in the midst of
poverty and devastation---those who witness to Jesus like John the
Baptist---they see the Messiah, the anointed One, in the most unexpected of
places and recognize God at work in the world.
They believe; they
expect; and they receive. They receive
the wholeness that this world cannot give them: a sense of peace in times of
fear and upheaval. So that even when
Mary holds her beloved son who has been betrayed and crucified as he comes down
from the cross, even then Mary can live on---knowing God will redeem this
scandalous loss---that God is still at work in the world---that there is still
light after this profound darkness.
What might this
world look like if we believe, if we expect, and receive? How might we see one another differently if
we believe and expect God to be able to restore us from our tragedies---from
the cruelty and inhumanity in this world?
How might this expectancy of hope cause us to live differently? To speak differently? To love differently?
Might we then not be
overcome by despair? Might we then not
see any person as a lost cause or as so meaningless that it is justified to
torture him for our safety? Might we
then, like God in the book of Genesis, finally recognize that all Creation is
very good? God’s judgment on all
people---on this fragile earth, our island home---has already been made. “It is
very good.” Who are we to negate God’s judgment?
Isaiah, Mary, John
the Baptist—they are all witnesses, prophets, pointing us to Jesus. They are our forerunners. We are to be witnesses. Our lives, our words, our behavior, are to
point to Christ. We are called to
testify to the light.
We testify to the
Way by living the Way.
We testify to the
life of Jesus by living Jesus.
We testify to the
Truth by living the Truth.
We testify to the
Light by being the Light.
By believing,
expecting, and receiving.
The Spirit of the
Lord God is upon us. We are anointed---given the gift of restoration and hope
in times of darkness---set apart to do God’s work. This Advent, may Christ’s light break into our
hearts and minds---removing the shadowy spaces----restoring us by the healing
power of Jesus’ love---for He is coming.
Jesus is coming. And he wants to
dwell in and with and among us. Make
room. Prepare. Believe.
Expect. Receive.
