Readings: Psalm 146:5-10; Ruth 1:6-18; 2 Peter 3:1-10

Then she started to return with her daughters-in-law from the country of Moab, for she had heard in the country of Moab that the Lord had considered his people and given them food. So she set out from the place where she had been living, she and her two daughters-in-law, and they went on their way to go back to the land of Judah. But Naomi said to her two daughters-in-law,”Go back each of you to your mother’s house. May the Lord deal kindly with you, as you have dealt with the dead and with me. The Lord grant that you may find security, each of you in the house of your husband.” Then she kissed them, and they wept aloud. They said to her, “No, we will return with you to your people.” But Naomi said, “Turn back, my daughters, why will you go with me? Do I still have sons in my womb that they may become your husbands? Turn back, my daughters, go your way, for I am too old to have a husband. Even if I thought there was hope for me, even if I should have a husband tonight and bear sons, would you then wait until they were grown? Would you then refrain from marrying? No, my daughters, it has been far more bitter for me than for you, because the hand of the Lord has turned against me.” Then they wept aloud again. Orpah kissed her mother-in-law, but Ruth clung to her.

So she said, “See, your sister-in-law has gone back to her people and to her gods; return after your sister-in-law.” But Ruth said, “Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from following you! Where you go, I will go; Where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die, I will die – there will I be buried. May the Lord do thus and so to me, and more as well, if even death parts me from you!”

When Naomi saw that she was determined to go with her, she said no more to her.

Ruth1:6-18, NRSV

Here I sit, my desk cluttered with paper; with a half filled cup of too-cold-to-drink coffee;  a laptop with a cursor that flusters me as it moves around faster than I can think; two Bibles ( I like to compare translations); and an oil lamp in need of filling  (nice imagery, right?). I’ve a task to complete. In front of me are the Advent Readings for 2022, courtesy of  a ministry called Google Docs.  This is  more than just a list.  It’s an App! The first reading for Advent started on November 24 Thanksgiving Day.  Did I read those readings…..?  No, I did not. But more opportunities exist!

My Advent  wake up call generally comes on the first Sunday of Advent. Regal purple altar hangings,  big purple candles, a big pink candle and one big white candle  wrapped at the base with beautiful fresh winter greenery on a Victorian  iron stand has a way of getting one’s attention.

 I would tell you that I  know the meaning of Advent, albeit in its simplest form.  I say this because I recently was privileged to hear a  sermon – a rather thundering sermon to be exact – addressing the very  topic of Advent. Upon hearing it I could not help but think  ah geez Miss McGillacuddy,  I should have had my pen and notepad with me. 

You see, I  came away from that sermon for the first time realizing  that this liturgical season  called Advent,…includes me as a participant! I’ve got to walk the AdventTrail  and not just observe, which is  why this list, this Advent App, is so helpful in figuring out how one begins the  adventure of not only walking the Advent  Trail, but actually getting rolled up in it!

So, here I am ready to step out of my comfort zone and participate in Advent with much the same kind of loyalty that  Old Testament Ruth had when she followed her Mother-in-law  to Bethlehem., exuding gratitude saying .… Praise ye the Lord, Praise ye the Lord, oh my soul. Psalm 146:1

Offered by Marcia Meinerth, child of God.

Readings: Psalm 21: Genesis 15:1-18; Matthew 12:33-37

And Abram believed the Lord; and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness.

Genesis 15:6, NRSV

What a wonderful story we have in Genesis 15. First a little context. Abram and his wife Sarai and all those in their household, obeyed the command of God to leave their home town of Ur and head toward Canaan. They settled temporarily at Haran in Mesopotamia (Gen. 11:4). Then, they journeyed on to Canaan, to the land that God showed to them (Gen. 12:4). They were promised this land would belong to them and to their descendants, and they would become the forbears of a great nation (Gen. 12:7). Abram and Sarai, and their household, traveled around fifteen hundred miles over many years because God promised them that they would possess the land of Canaan and become a great nation.

Now, when they arrived in Canaan, both Abram and Sarai were quite old, past the age of childbearing, and the promises that the Lord had given them in the past now seemed impossible. This fact made the future that God previously laid out for them nothing but a dream, and empty assurance that had caused them to leave everything familiar to become pilgrims and wanderers. It was into this situation, without hope for the future or fulfillment of the covenant that our story begins in Genesis fifteen.

The first Word from God in this chapter is that Abram would have many descendants: Your reward will be very great (Get 15:1), but Abram did not believe it at first. In fact, his reply was, in so many words, No, I won’t. Abram, the forbearer of our faith, in this particular scene, was not the model of unshakeable trust in the Lord that he later became known for.

Even with Abram’s doubts, God took him outside to look at the stars and to count them. Of course, there were more than he could count. At that point, the Lord renewed the promise: That’s how many descendants you will have. For some reason known only to Abram, God inspired him to trust in the promise. Abram believed the Lord, according to our story, and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness (Gen. 15:6). An about face: here, in this moment, the cynical Abram became the pioneer of our faith. After seeing the stars in the sky, Abram trusted God’s promise, despite all appearances to the contrary, and so he, and presumably his wife Sarai, began to act from that moment on as if that promise would come to pass. In that act of trust, God opened the future to them.

Our lives with God are very much like Abram’s and Saral’s, for we, too, have been given lots of promises by our Lord. Here are a few of them:

Remember,  I am with you always, to the end of the age (Mt. 28:20).

I will not leave you orphaned: I will come to you (John14:18)

Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die (John 11:25-26)

Faith, therefore, consists in believing these promises and acting as if they will be fulfilled. When we are beset by trouble on every side, when every circumstance seems to go against us and there seems to be little hope for the future, do Christ’s promises give us the strength to embrace the emptiness and desolation, and give us hope? Faith trusts God’s promises, despite all evidence to the contrary. Faith simply waits for God to fulfill those promises, knowing that ultimately God will pull it off.

In her book, Group Spiritual Direction, Rose Mary Dougherty writes this: There comes a time when we are invited into simple faith as we make decisions, trusting God to transform the ambiguity of our hearts with the fire of love and be with us in and through the uncertainty. We have done what we can. Our task is to live into the decision, seeking the support of others (when available) who share our desire for God. Gradually, we come to live in a place of love and allow that love to lead. God’s loving prayer in us becomes the testing place of discernment. Through the lens of that loving prayer we view our choices and come to recognize our authenticity. (Paulist Press, Mahwah, NJ, 1995, p. 33)

Offered by David Fredrickson, child of God.

Readings: Psalm 21:14-21; Isaiah 41:14-20; Romans 15:14-21

When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none,

And their tongue is parched with thirst, I the Lord will answer them,

I the God of Israel will not forsake them.

I will open rivers on the bare heights, and fountains in the midst of the valleys; 

I will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water.

Isaiah 41:17-18, NRSV

If you happen to be on the waterfront of Plymouth, Massachusetts, at low tide, look for the seagulls and pigeons on the sand. You’ll see them stretched out in a few lines, squawking and looking for all the world like they are at a party. Look closer, and you’ll see the reason: they are gathered at the freshwater streams that flow into the ocean. Visible and available only at low tide, these streams are life for the birds who are surrounded by salt water that is the home of their food source but can never quench their thirst. When low tide comes, the birds drink, bathe, and rejoice. 

The seacoast birds give me a glimpse of the joy that water (really life) is in a desert. And if that’s not a glimpse of God’s love, what is?

Readings: Isaiah 11:1-10; Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19; Romans 15:4-13; Matthew 3:1-12

A shoot shall come out of the stump of Jesse, and a branch grow out of his roots.

The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.

His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord. He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear; but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth.

He shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked. Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist, and faithfulness the belt around his loins.

The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.

The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.

They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.

On that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious. Isaiah 11:1-10, NRSV

Idyllic: the world of Isaiah’s vision. The meek and poor find justice, and the predator and prey are predator and prey no longer. The wicked are killed – or at least what was wicked in them dies and leaves in its place love. It seems like the chasm between our current world and Isaiah’s peaceful kingdom will never be spanned, no bridge built to take us from here to there. Except that it starts and ends with Jesse, an imperfect and perfectly loved child of God. Just like us.

At its heart, Isaiah’s world is the place where we don’t live at the expense of others. We seek a just world, even when it means we have make sacrifices. Sacrifice expands the heart’s capacity to love and strengthens the spirit within us. When we mean good things for others and sacrifice to bring them to life, we take a step toward Isaiah’s world. Take enough steps, and that chasm just might be spanned.

Readings: Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19; Isaiah 30:19-26; Acts 13:16-25

Give the king your justice, O God, and your righteousness to a king’s son.

May he judge your people with righteousness, and your poor with justice.

May the mountains yield prosperity for the people, and the hills, in righteousness.

May he defend the cause of the poor of the people, give deliverance to the needy, and crush the oppressor.

May he live while the sun endures, and as long as the moon, throughout all generations.

May he be like rain that falls on the mown grass, like showers that water the earth.

In his days may righteousness flourish and peace abound, until the moon is no more…

Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, who alone does wondrous things.

Blessed be his glorious name forever; may his glory fill the whole earth. Amen and Amen.

This psalm of Solomon is an admission that ruling with wisdom and compassion is not sustainable without God’s presence and guidance. Solomon knows that he does not have the strength to rule God’s beloved children out of his own resources; he must draw on God’s well of compassion and wisdom if he is to exercise his power without losing his soul. The king’s rule is measured by how communal life for the most vulnerable is blessed, not by how much wealth he attains.

None of us will be ruling an ancient civilization any time soon. Most of us don’t hold the power of life and death in our hands, and we do not make or enforce the laws of our society. But each of us has power – the power to nourish the life of this world we call our own. When we call on God’s strength and compassion, we can use our power wisely – and be nourished in mind and spirit through it all.

Readings: Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19; Isaiah 4:2-6; Acts 1:12-17, 21-26

Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a sabbath day’s journey away. When they had entered the city, they went to the room upstairs where they were staying, Peter, and John, and James, and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James. All these were constantly devoting themselves to prayer, together with certain women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, as well as his brothers.

In those days Peter stood among the believers (together with the crowd numbered about one hundred and twenty persons) and said, “Friends, the scripture had to be fulfilled, which the Holy Spirit through David foretold concerning Judas, who became a guide for those who arrested Jesus – For he was numbered among us and was allotted his share in this ministry.”

So one of the men who have accompanied us during all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the baptism of John until the day when he was taken up from us – one of these must become a witness with us to his resurrection.” So they proposed two, Joseph called Barsabbas, who was also known as Justus, and Matthias. Then they prayed and said, “Lord, you know everyone’s heart. Show us which one of these two you have chosen to take the place in this ministry and apostleship from which Judas turned aside to go to his own place. And they cast lots for them, and the lot fell on Matthias; and he was added to the eleven apostles. Acts 1:12-17, 22-26, NRSV

There came a time when Judas Iscariot, having given up his life on the Field of Blood, needed to be replaced among the ranks of the apostles. There were only eleven of them. They wanted an even dozen. Peter, always the emboldened one, put forth the names of two men:Joseph (Barsabbas) and Matthias. After having prayed about the matter, the group agreed on the selection process. They would cast lots, which is akin to drawing straws.

WAIT…WHAT? This is the apostleship we’re talking about! Are they just going to gamble on it? Shouldn’t they conduct interviews? Stage a debate? Maybe hold an apostle’s decathlon? At the very least, shouldn’t they vote? Nope. The next apostle was going to be chosen by a game of pure chance. Well, you may remember the outcome. Matthias won and was granted entry into that esteemed circle.

Now, pardon my impertinence, but it seems to me that Jesus might have granted both gentlemen entry into the club – along with their wives (We know Jesus’ feeling about exclusion. It was an equal protection issue for him.).

So why this obsession with the number 12? Yes, I know Jesus himself chose 12 disciples. But he also appointed a different, much larger group of persons (70 or so) to spread the news. I can’t help but wonder why they were so intent at keeping their number at a dozen. Was it because that’s the way it had always been? Or did it have something to do with the 12 sons of Jacob? Or 12 as a covenantal number? Did these people really think that deeply about numerology?

And what of poor Joseph? Did he need to seek counseling to reconcile his hurt over this slight in favor of Matthias? Or maybe, just maybe, Joseph was secretly relieved not to have been chosen?

Such questions are, of course, unanswerable. It’s probably better not to have all the answers. Socrates didn’t like answers very much, at least not the surface variety. He spent most of his life asking questions and little else.

Mary Oliver wrote a poem about that entitled The Man Who Has Many Answers:

The man who has many answers

is often found

in the theaters of information

Where he offers, graciously

His deep findings.

While the man who has only questions,

to comfort himself, makes music.

Offered by Bryan Fredrickson, child of God.