4 Advent, December 20, 2015
Mic 5:1-4a; Heb 10:5-10; Lk 1:39-45
Brookdale
Advent is a time of waiting with hope, especially in times of adversity. We all have problems. Most of us here are old and dealing with the loss of abilities and loved ones. Some of us are ill; I have uterine cancer. Advent assures us that our current adversity is not the end of the story. God can give us strength now, and he has the power to make things better.
The first and third readings today give us examples of hopeful waiting. The first reading is from the prophet Micah, who lived in the eighth century BC. As Christians, we tend to see Micah’s prophecy as foretelling that Jesus would be born in Bethlehem. This was, of course, not what Micah meant to say. Most of the book of Micah is spent condemning injustice within the kingdom of Judah and forecasting doom because of it. Within Israel, the economy was changing from subsistence farming to a money-oriented economy. Small farms were being gobbled up by great estates, which produced wine and olive oil for export. Independent farmers were reduced to working as day laborers on the estates. The rich estate owners and merchants lived in big cities like Jerusalem and Samaria, where they hobnobbed with rich judges and priests. Like other eighth-century prophets, Micah condemned the greed and corruption of this system. Doesn’t Micah sound a bit like Pope Francis?
Today’s first reading is very different in tone from most of the book. In it, Micah interrupts his denunciation of injustice with a message of comfort. He likens the current time to a pregnancy, a time of hopeful waiting, as for a new king to be born. He foretells that God will provide a strong and just ruler, who will correct the evils and injustice. The reference to Bethlehem is actually a reference to David, the legendary ideal king of Israel, who lived perhaps 200 years before Micah. David was just an obscure shepherd boy in tiny Bethlehem, far from the cities where important people lived, when God tapped him to be the future king of Israel. Micah foresees a new David, who will defeat Judah’s enemies and rule wisely and justly. God is always active, even when the better future He prepares is as hidden as an unborn baby.
Today’s Gospel reading is about another pregnancy, that ultimate time of hopeful waiting. Mary could have waited in Nazareth in fearful anticipation of being ostracized or even stoned because of her pregnancy. Instead she set out in haste immediately after the angel’s visit, long before her pregnancy would be apparent. This was not a trivial journey to undertake. Judah is several days’ walk from Nazareth, a journey typically undertaken with a crowd of relatives, and not safe for a young girl alone. No doubt Mary traveled with a group from Nazareth. When she arrived, her hope was answered by Elizabeth’s greeting. The older woman realized immediately that Mary was pregnant, but rather than condemning her welcomed her with the greatest respect as one who “believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.” In the Gospel, Mary responds with her great hymn, the Magnificat, which for some reason the Catholic lectionary omits from today’s reading.
The better times foreseen by Micah did not come in the lifetimes of the Judean peasants he prophesied for. Mary’s son died on the cross. None of us will become young again, and our ailments may not go away. Still we wait in hope, because we believe that the Lord is good.
We could wait in fear because of current misfortunes, or we can wait in hope. Modern American culture even invites us to wait in a spirit of greed. A couple of weeks ago I had to do my exercise walking one day at the mall, surrounded by so-called Christmas music. The lyrics of one song in particular struck me as capturing the modern American essence of the holiday: “Everybody’s waitin’ for the man with the bag; Christmas is here again!”
Instead of fear or greed, Advent invites us to wait with hope, secure in the conviction that God is always at work. Last week I had to take my husband to the emergency room. We were worried, but he’s fine now. His illness wasn’t the end of the story. When I went to pick him up the next day, I noticed a sign with directions for “Cayuga Birthplace.” In Cayuga Birthplace, a sickroom and stirrups for giving birth have been replaced with warm colors, comfortable chairs, and space for family; our hospital has become a much better place to have a baby. That fills me with hope. I feel the same hope when I see a toddler or an eager kindergartner filled with the joy of life. God is always at work, and our hope will not be in vain.