A Lectionary Reflection for the people of Thankful Memorial Episcopal Church for worship from home, December 6, 2020, Year B, 2 Advent

Isaiah 40:1-11
Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13
2 Peter 3:8-15a
Mark 1:1-8

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Earlier this week, I heard an interview on NPR with sociologist and Baptist minister Michael Eric Dyson about his new book, Long Time Coming: Reckoning with Race in America.  As I listened, it occurred to me that the conversation between Dyson and his interviewer, Noel King, was quite Advent-y.  Take the title of his book to start.  Advent is all about waiting for that which seems a long time coming.  Our readings for the second Sunday of the season pick up on that theme.  Isaiah shares a hopeful word to God’s people after decades in exile, assuring them that they have “served [their] term, that [their] penalty is paid” and that restoration and redemption, which seemed far off, are now at hand.  The second letter of Peter reminds us that even though the fulfillment of God’s promises seems to us to be taking a long time, “with the Lord […] a thousand years are like one day”.

But it wasn’t just the title of Dyson’s book.  A lot of what he said resonated with the themes of Advent.  For example, Noel King pointed out to Dyson that perhaps his book about racial tensions would not reach the people he wanted it to.  “Are the right White people reading your books?” she asked him.  “And if not, where is the hope coming from?”  (Surely that’s one of the main questions of Advent!)

Dyson responded by saying that it might be true that he was “preaching to the choir,” but added that “the choir has to rehearse its part.”  Those of us who know that a better way exists have a role to play in leading others to that understanding; we must “sing” out that others may follow along. 

King then asked him, “Is it worth trying to speak to [committed racists] anymore?”  And Dyson replied, “I can’t give up […] I do hold out hope.” He said that he recognized that in such cases, his efforts “will probably be spurned and attacked, but every now and again, somebody can derive some marrow of truth […] and you might be able to change a mind or transform a spirit.”

As we live through these literally and metaphorically dark days of winter, it can be easy to feel overwhelmed by pain and suffering.  The numbers of those who have fallen ill continues to increase.  Limited in our personal interactions, mental illness is also on the rise as many struggle with depression, anxiety or addiction.  Some of us have lost jobs, lost income, lost loved ones and though a vaccine does seem close, we know that it’s still a long road ahead.  All of this takes place as we come to grips with the deep divisions within our country and as we take on the “reckoning with race in America” that Dyson’s book uncovers.  To quote Noel King’s question, in the midst of it all, where does hope come from?

And our Scriptures this Advent give a surprising answer to that question.  Hope comes from God, yes.  But hope comes from God through us.  We are the ones called “to prepare the way of the Lord” in our particular wilderness.  God comes by God’s own power but we are tasked with building God’s “highway.”

And how do we do that?  In that 7-minute NPR interview, Dyson hit on many of the ways in which Christians might “prepare the way of the Lord,” ways that are reflected in our readings for this second Sunday of Advent. 

First, we are to name what can be.  Even in these frightening times, as Christians, we must continue to hold onto the hope that this reality is not the one God wills for us.  Presiding Bishop Michael Curry frequently summarizes Jesus’ mission as one that “changes the world from the nightmare it often is into the dream that God intends.”[i]  And our role is to continue to name that dream, to keep it in our collective mind’s eye even and especially when the nightmare around us seems to be at its height.  This is the work of the choir faithfully “rehearsing its part,” to use Dyson’s analogy. 

This naming of what can be has often been the work of prophets like Isaiah, who offer a profound word of comfort even in darkness and deep loss: “‘Comfort, O comfort my people,’ says your God.”  But Advent challenges each of us to become God’s prophets, reminding each other of God’s promises and abiding presence, no matter what.  By our words and actions, we are to insist that there is a better way than the death-dealing desert the world often chooses.  Thus, we are to “make straight in [our] desert a highway for our God.” 

Secondly, we must participate in the divine leveling that enables the restoration of the world.  Isaiah imagines God’s work of redemption this way: “Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low.”  In his interview, Dyson alluded to this kind of drastic shake-up that God’s new world demands.  Those who must give up temporal power to make room for God’s reign are likely to spurn the message of the good news – or even attack its messengers.  But if we long for the kingdom of God to be made real on this earth, then we must be ready for and seek to enable such an overhaul of the status quo, to get the landscape ready for that massive divine quake that will level mountains and raise up valleys.

Finally, to “prepare the way of the Lord” in our present wilderness, we must continue to believe that no one is outside the bounds of God’s mercy.  At first glance, that sounds wonderful, maybe even easy.  We Episcopalians love to laud our own inclusivity.  Gay or straight, Black or White, wealthy or poor, all are welcome.  But the difficulty comes when that welcome is extended even to those who have done the most harm. 

In her interview with Dyson, Noel King pointed out that many anti-racists urge folks to give up talking to “committed racists.”  It’s a waste of breath, they say, to speak to those who will not hear.  But Dyson respectfully refuted such claims.  “I do hold out hope,” he said.  Like Dyson, we must persist in the belief that God’s mercy and power, working through us, are able to “change a mind or transform a spirit.” We might not see the fruit of such work – on an individual basis or throughout our culture – in our lifetimes, but we must remember that to God, “a thousand years are like one day.” 

And I’m not just talking about racism.  Dyson’s book is about race, yes, but the whole project of God’s imminent arrival which we look for especially during this season of Advent is much bigger than the overturning of any single injustice.  The final coming of God’s kingdom may shake us up and force us to reckon with our own sinfulness, but it will also be a day when mercy and truth meet together, when “righteousness is at home” in our hearts.  Isaiah, the writer of 2 Peter, John the Baptist, and all God’s prophets, ancient and modern, place their faith in a vision of God’s kingdom that includes all people so that none “perish, but all … come to repentance.”

This radical redemption means that all people are included within the bounds of God’s mercy – even the committed racists and the worst criminals, the power-hungry autocrat and the oppressive tyrant, even (and here’s where things might get sticky) the relative with whom you differ politically or that ex who betrayed your trust, each person in his or her own particular brokenness.  God is waiting to include every one of us in the abundant feast.  And, if we want to prepare a way for the Lord in this wilderness, we will “regard the patience of our Lord as salvation” and wait with glad expectation for “the coming of the day of God.”  Amen. 

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[i] https://episcopalchurch.org/posts/publicaffairs/presiding-bishop-michael-curry-jesus-movement-and-we-are-episcopal-church