Wednesday of the Second Week of Advent

Lectionary: 183

Do you not know

or have you not heard?
The LORD is the eternal God,
creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint nor grow weary,
and his knowledge is beyond scrutiny.
He gives strength to the fainting;
for the weak he makes vigor abound.

 

Historically, the Roman Catholic Church and her sisters of the orient have preferred a literal interpretation to Scripture and other religious stories. Dante had to narrate his Divine Comedy as if he had really walked through the Underworld with Virgil. He could not simply call it a fantasy, because that was too much like lieing; although it clearly was an experiment in fantasy.  

Because of that preference for the literal, preachers and theologians have often overlooked the most superb irony of the Bible. When Isaiah describes God as the Supreme Lord and Ruler of the Earth he refers to the same god whose nation has been conquered, whose temple has been razed, whose capital city has been decimated, and whose people have been forcibly transported from their homeland – excepting those who fled to foreign countries and the most wretched poor who weren’t worth the bother. This god has been, to all appearances, humiliated successively by the gods of Egypt, Assyria, Persia, and Babylon.

And yet, despite that history of defeat, Isaiah declares him “Creator of The Ends of The Earth!”

Hello? Are we on the same planet? Either Isaiah and his people are seriously deluded, or they know something few can imagine.

In fact, they believe in the God whom Saint Paul will describe with that key word, kenosis, which he used in his letter to the Philippians:

Though he was in the form of God, Jesus did not deem equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself (kenosis) and took the form of a slave, being born in the likeness of men….

Our God is so powerful he can strip himself of that power; he is neither owned nor controlled by his authority. Rulers from emperors and kings to presidents and governors, down to mayors, councilors and dog catchers cannot fathom such freedom. Power consumes those who have it; it no more lets them go than a fatal virus will surrender its victim. More often than not, the powerful feel desperate to protect their strength by gaining more – and more – and more. Enough is never enough.

But we do not worship power; we worship the God who creates power, and then sheds it like a winter coat in springtime. The Lord has power but is not owned by it.

Beyond the doctrine of kenosis, the Hebrews prophets also saw God's freedom to discipline his chosen people. If their nation collapsed before more powerful neighbors, it was because they had failed to be holy as your God is holy. They had aspired to power when their calling was holiness. Saint Theresa of Calcutta reminded us of this when she said, "We are not called to be successful, but to be faithful." If success leads to greater power, we should be wary of it. 

At Christmas we celebrate the coming of the Man who saved us by his utter failure. Against the advice of friends and well-intentioned opponents he went to Jerusalem, stood silently before his accusers, and was led out to crucifixion. Even as he died, his friends hoped he might redeem them and himself, while enemies taunted his helplessness. But we saw God's helplessness even in his infancy as he lay in the poverty of a manger, and was spirited into Egypt. 

2020 has reminded us of our helplessness before a punishing pandemic. Americans have been particularly humiliated by the disease because we have known what to do about it -- Wear your mask and avoid close contacts! -- and we cannot do it. Many pointedly refused to do either! Compliance seems an affront to our misbegotten notions of freedom. 

The punishing disease is not as severe as the seige of Jerusalem but our obstinacy has not yet spent itself. Advent, with its practices of penance, almsgiving, and fasting, invites us to ponder the humility of God, and to renounce the lust for power.