Sign Bearers of the Kingdom

Third Sunday in Advent, December 17,1978

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11; I Thessalonians 5:16-24; John 1:6-8, 19-28

Advent is the time of watchfulness and preparation for the coming of the Lord. But in the flow of these days when the fathomless depths of God's love for us and for his world begin to become clear to us, we know ourselves to be prepared for a new age. There is something startingly different about the coming of this Lord. The world is going to be confronted with a new way. And so the Church's year moves steadily from Advent and Christmas to Lent, Good Friday, and Easter.

This Lord comes with this commission for the new age:

He has sent me to bring glad tidings to the lowly,
to heal the brokenhearted.
To proclaim liberty to the captives
and release to the prisoners.
To announce a year of favor from the Lord
and a day of vindication by our God.

These revolutionary words which Jesus used in the synagogue to describe himself and his ministry direct our gaze away from ourselves, in order to give ourselves away to others in ministry like his. We can never be content with a personal view of salvation which we can so easily manipulate and control. The work of saving love is set loose in my life so that it can flow through me into the lives of my sisters and my brothers.

To look at Jesus there among the lowly and the brokenhearted, the captives, and the prisoners is to know that there is something missing in my appropriation of God's love if I do not experience the reality of corporate mission in my own life. Jesus came among us and lowered himself to become the servant of all. Can I do any less?

Somehow we miss the whole point if we are not a part of the sacrament of God's love broken and shed in the very midst of the suffering and the woundedness of humanity. Perhaps this Advent could be a time of reassessment and the establishment of new priorities for the stewardship of time, energy, and money.

Just what is your personal investment in this new kingdom which Jesus the Christ has come to establish? Does it involve you only in circles where you feel comfortable and secure? Are you willing to take on persons and structures which wound and oppress? One suspects that Jesus is already there at work. For through him "the Lord God will make justice and praise spring up before all the nations."

Paul tells us that a disciple of Jesus bears the following marks: she is one who rejoices always, never ceases praying, and renders constant thanks. And she can do this because "he who calls us is trustworthy."

We are sign-bearers of the presence of the kingdom, both by our personal involvement in the works of mercy and love, and also by our attitude toward life and relationships. Even in the darkness and the despair we can point to the kingdom presence. The reality of hope and wholeness has been given to us in faith, and we begin to spread this in the world by our presence and by the suffering which we are willing to bear on behalf of the world.

But this is never possible only on our own power and with our own resources. We must be persons securely rooted in unceasing prayer. In this way we are firmly planted in the Jesus who has given himself for us, and therefore we can face the darkness of the world and not despair.

In Christ we receive a new consciousness, and this consciousness speaks the Christ to others. Edward Farrell writes in his new book, Can You Drink This Cup:

Prayer is a passionate involvement and identification with the broken body of Christ which leads me into his death and resurrection. Where I am I want you to be. To pray is to identify so deeply with the oppressed that when the oppressors ask, "Who are you?" we will experience him speaking in us, "I am Jesus whom you are oppressing."

Let our prayer the Advent be that our lives might become so transparent with the loving presence of Jesus, that others might ask of us, as they did of John the Baptizer, "Who are you?" What will the answer of your words and your life be?

Perhaps this Christmas our celebration can be less centered on self and material satisfactions. A lonely and rejected person can be invited to our table. Half the money usually spent on gifts could be given over to the works of mercy among the wounded and the oppressed. The gift of Jesus could be celebrated not in cards, but in the gift of self to others.

Fourth Sunday in Advent, December 24,1978

2 Samuel 7:1-5,7-16; Romans 16:25-27; Luke 1:26-38

The light is coming into the world. The darkness is fading and the new order has been planted on the earth. Tidings of great joy will be sung this night, for God is faithful to his promise. His Word is to be trusted in all times and all circumstances, and his throne is firmly established for all ages.

The mystery of God's loving purpose in history will be made known to all nations in a little child. And in the wonder and amazement of the nations at God's willingness to suffer and atone even for the lowest ones. The obedience of faith will be the response.

Advent speaks to us of mystery. How can our finite minds begin to comprehend the vastness of God's mercy in creation and history? No wonder the prophets and the psalmists continually call upon us to fall on our knees with awe-filled wonder before the mighty purposes and works of the Lord.

We are not called to understand and to control, but rather to be obedient in wonder and in love: The little child who shall conquer the world through suffering and death. The wonder of new life and possibility which springs out of death and failure. The amazing fact that God's great and final action for the salvation of humankind was planted with the seed of an ancient and fallible king, and dependent upon the total submission of a lowly peasant woman.

It seems to me that this is a theme to ponder, this theme of submission. For we have the willingness of the mighty God of the universe to submit himself to us in flesh, the willingness of Mary to give herself over entirely to God's will, and the call upon us to the obedience of faith in the face of the mystery of God's love for his creation.

Gabriel comes to Mary and he says, "Hail, O favored one, the Lord is with you! Do not be afraid." These are God's words to Mary and to all of us who are the children of the new Eve: "Do not be afraid." God is faithful to his promise and he will take care of you. All of creation is in his hands and nothing is impossible for him. Even from one as barren as Elizabeth, can he bring forth a messenger of the good news. Even in ones as barren as we are, can the promise take root and bear fruit in the world.

But it does take a conscious act of submission on our part; submission to the working of grace in our own lives. Can we say with Mary, "O Lord, let it be to me according to your work?" It is so hard for us to abandon ourselves, even to the promise of God.

More and more I am aware that the crucial issue in my own life is trust. Do I really trust the promise and the loving purpose of the Lord in my own life? So often my fear-filled actions and responses belie what my lips want so much to say. And sin enters in unawares when I wrest control from the gentle probings and nudgings of the Spirit.

And then I fail not only myself, but also my sisters and my brothers. For precisely at that point of mistrust I cease to be transparent with the love of Jesus, given for the suffering and the wounded of the world.

As Christmas dawns with this new year of my life--of your life--dare we pray together the prayer of Charles de Foucauld? He entitled it "The Prayer of Abandonment."

Father,

I abandon myself into your hands;
Do with me what you will.
Whatever you may do, I thank you;
I am ready for all, I accept all.
Let only your will be done in me,
and in all your creatures--
I wish no more than this, O Lord.

Into your hands I commend my soul;
I offer it to you with all the love of my heart.
For I love you Lord,
and so need to give myself,
to surrender myself into your hands.
without reserve,
and with boundless confidence.

For you are my Father.

Conrad Hoover shared a ministry of retreat direction and spiritual renewal at the Church of the Saviour in Washington, DC when this article appeared.

This appears in the December 1978 issue of Sojourners