My name is John Squires. I live in the Hunter Valley in rural New South Wales, on land which has been cared for since time immemorial by the Gringai people (one of the First Nations of the island continent now known as Australia). I have been an active participant in the Uniting Church in Australia (UCA) since it was formed in 1977, and was ordained as a Minister of the Word in this church in 1980. I have had the privilege to serve in rural, regional, and urban congregations and as a Presbytery Resource Minister and Intentional Interim Minister. For two decades I taught Biblical Studies at United Theological College at North Parramatta in Sydney, and more recently I was Director of Education and Formation and Principal of the Perth Theological Hall. I've studied the scriptures in depth; I hold a number of degrees, including a PhD in early Christian literature. I am committed to providing the best opportunities for education within the church, so that people can hold to “an informed faith”, which is how the UCA Basis of Union describes it. This blog is one contribution to that ongoing task.
Retired Uniting Church minister Janet Dawson, friend and colleague, has just had a book of poems published by Coventry Press: Psalms from my seventies … and other stuff.
It’s a book filled with honesty. Janet lives as she writes; in this book, she exemplifies a deep spirituality grounded in the ordinariness of life.
There are prayers about the closed blinds … sharing communion with a lizard … shedding tears in the fragility of life … reflecting on how hard it is to let go, especially to let a go a life partner who is changing before her eyes. There is no pretence, no puffed-up terminology, no pious hope in these prayers; they are everyday, grounded in the ordinary—and thus, so profound.
Janet especially grapples with her uncomfortableness—her sense of alienation—in the regular weekly routines of worship. Can there be a theology that offers something better than unthinking platitudes and unacceptable dogmas? So Janet seeks to offer precisely this in her prayers.
She celebrates the music that has been “a joy and treasure all my life”, remembers “those who can’t rejoice”, questions “what did Jesus think he was doing?”, imagines people as “beautiful round objects with so many exciting possibilities”. One prayer offers images of God as “Quantum God, Eternal Becoming, Infinite Possibility, Ultimate Consciousness”, another rejoices as she leaves behind “the boat” of the church and immerses herself in “the Ocean” of the divine.
And to close: a short, punchy drama about God in the ordinariness of life. I recommend this book as a fine resource!
This coming Sunday, the lectionary offers two choices for the First Reading. One option, following on from the First Reading last Sunday (from Jeremiah 33) is the last chapter in the book of Baruch, a short book bearing the name of the Baruch who served as a scribe to Jeremiah. The book is included in the canon in Roman Catholic and Orthodox churches, but not in Reformed churches—and also not in Judaism.
The passage (Bar 5:1–9) invites the exiles from Jerusalem to “put off the garment of your sorrow and affliction … and put on forever the beauty of the glory from God” (Bar 5:1), to celebrate that “God will lead Israel with joy, in the light of his glory, with the mercy and righteousness that come from him” (Bar 5:9). It’s a joyful song that is quite appropriate for the season of Advent, as we prepare for the joyous celebrations—both sacred and secular—of the Christmas season.
The alternative offering comes from the book of the prophet Malachi (3:1–4). The passage is obviously proposed because of correlates with the Gospel passage, in which John the Baptist declares that he comes to prepare for the coming of Jesus. “See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me”, Malachi quotes the Lord as saying. “He is like a refiner’s fire and like fullers’ soap; he will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the descendants of Levi and refine them like gold and silver”, Malachi declaims, providing a description that correlates well with the fiery declarations made by John.
Malachi was active after the Babylonian Exile; the city and temple had been fully restored and worship was now active in the temple. In this context, Malachi called the people to repentance, starting with the priests, whom he attacks for their corruption (1:6–2:9); “the lips of a priest should guard knowledge, and people should seek instruction from his mouth, for he is the messenger of the Lord of hosts; but you have turned aside from the way; you have caused many to stumble by your instruction; you have corrupted the covenant of Levi, says the Lord of hosts” (2:8–9).
He then turns to the religious profanity of the people; “Judah has been faithless, and abomination has been committed in Israel and in Jerusalem; for Judah has profaned the sanctuary of the Lord, which he loves, and has married the daughter of a foreign god” (2:11), and instructs them to “take heed to yourselves and do not be faithless” (2:16). God threatens punishment in graphic terms: “I will rebuke your offspring, and spread dung on your faces, the dung of your offerings, and I will put you out of my presence” (2:3).
In the passage that is proposed for this coming Sunday, Malachi then looks to the coming of a messenger from God (3:1) who will bring judgment “like a refiner’s fire and like fullers’ soap; he will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the descendants of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, until they present offerings to the Lord in righteousness” (3:2–3).
He then identifies a range of ways by which social inequities are practised; God threatens, “I will be swift to bear witness against the sorcerers, against the adulterers, against those who swear falsely, against those who oppress the hired workers in their wages, the widow and the orphan, against those who thrust aside the alien, and do not fear me, says the Lord of hosts” (3:5). He notes that people regularly shortchange the Lord with incomplete tithes (3:8–15); rectifying this will result in blessings from God (3:10–12).
The fierce imagery continues with a description of “the day [which] is coming, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble; the day that comes shall burn them up, says the Lord of hosts, so that it will leave them neither root nor branch” (4:1). The motif of “the day” has run through the prophets, from before the exile (Amos 5:18–20; Isa 2:12, 17; 13:6–8; 34:8; Zeph 1:7, 14–15), during the years of exile (Jer 35:32–33; 46:10), and on into the years after the return from exile (Joel 2:1–3, 30–31).
What is required of the people is clear: “remember the teaching of my servant Moses, the statutes and ordinances that I commanded him at Horeb for all Israel” (4:4). Adherence to the covenant undergirds the claims of this prophet, as indeed it does with each prophet in Israel.
This short book ends with a memorable prophecy from Malachi: “Lo, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes. He will turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents, so that I will not come and strike the land with a curse.” (4:5–6). These words are explicitly picked up in the Gospel portrayals of John the Baptist as the returning Elijah (Matt 17:9–13; Luke 1:17), turning the hearts of people so that they might receive the promise offers by Jesus.
Whether Malachi himself understood these words to point to John and Jesus, of course, is somewhat dubious. But in the context of our Gospel passage for Advent 2, this passage is a timely offering—of a different nature from the Baruch passage, but relevant, nevertheless.
One of the passages offered by the lectionary for this Sunday, the second Sunday in Advent (Luke 1:68–79), comprises the text of a psalm-like song that is often called The Benedictus, after the opening phrase of the song in the Latin translation. The whole song resonates in every line with words, ideas, concepts from the Hebrew Scriptures. I’ve been considering that in earlier posts on this passage.
Luke, as we know, was writing many decades after the events he reports; he certainly wasn’t present at the time John was born, and it is most unlikely that any of the people he refers to as his sources (Luke 1:2) were witnesses to this. Rather, it is sensible for us to consider that he wrote this song, drawing extensively from the Hebrew Scriptures, and placed it in the mouth of Zechariah at what was an appropriate moment in the story that he was telling. (The story as a whole isn’t history; it is Luke’s way of introducing the figure of Jesus by placing him firmly in his historical context, as a Jew of the late Second Temple period.)
In my previous post, I have considered how God is described, and prayed to, in this song, drawing on various scriptural passages. Another way that Luke evokes scripture is when he has Zechariah sings that God “has remembered his holy covenant, the oath that he swore to our ancestor Abraham” (Luke 1:72–73). The phrase explicitly evokes comment in the ancestral narrative, when Moses fled to Midian, that “God remembered his covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob” (Exod 2:24), repeated in words on the lips of the Lord to Moses, “I have heard the groaning of the Israelites whom the Egyptians are holding as slaves, and I have remembered my covenant” (Exod 6:5).
The phrase recurs in the psalm that recalls the sins committed by the people of Israel during their time in the wilderness, when “he regarded their distress when he heard their cry”, and so “for their sake he remembered his covenant, and showed compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love” (Ps 106:44–45). Reflecting on the sins of the people of a later generation, the prophet Ezekiel reports that the Lord God will nevertheless “remember my covenant with you in the days of your youth, and I will establish with you an everlasting covenant” (Ezek 16:60). This idea lies behind the promise offered at the same time by the prophet Jeremiah, that the Lord God “will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more”, and so “will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah” (Jer 31:31–34). Remembering and recommitting to the covenant is embedded in the scriptures.
Zechariah refers to two key characters from Israel’s ancestral stories: Abraham, in referring to “the oath that [the Lord God] swore to our ancestor Abraham” in making the covenant (v.73), and David, in referring to the “mighty saviour” that God has raised up “for us in the house of his servant David” (v.68). These are, of course, two key figures in the story of Israel, to whom much attention is given in the ancestral narratives (Abraham in Gen 12—25; David in 1 Sam 16—1 Ki 2).
Although the song is sung immediately after the birth of the son of Elizabeth and Zechariah (Luke 1:57), to be named John (1:59–63), the father celebrates the birth of his son largely, as we have seen, by celebrating the mighty deeds of God. He does note that this child “will be called the prophet of the Most High” and that he “will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins” (1:76–77). This is indeed how John is portrayed when, as an adult, he becomes active around the Jordan in calling people to repentance (Mark 1:2–8; Matt 3:1–12; Luke 3:1–18).
The one who “prepares the way” reflects the prophetic word of Malachi, who declares “I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me, and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple” (Mal 3:1). The fiery nature of this messenger’s language (Mal 3:2–3) is clearly reflected in John’s message of judgement (Luke 3:7–9, 16–17). That he proclaims “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” (Luke 3:3) guides Luke to give to his father words (1:77) that point forward to this very message.
The song ends with some observations about the response of people to what God has been and is doing. Zechariah anticipates that those who learn of this might “serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all our days” (vv.74–75). All three characteristics of this response are, of course, fundamental elements in the piety of ancient Israelites and Jews of the Second Temple period. “You shall fear the Lord your God” is a priestly refrain (Lev 19:14, 32; 25:17, 36, 43) recurring in the words Gos speaks in Deuteronomy (Deut 4:10; 5:29; 6:1, 13, 24; 10:12, 20; 13:4; 14:23; 17:19; 31:12–13) as well as in subsequent narrative books.
Holiness amongst the people is also advocated by the priests, on the basis that God is holy. “I am the Lord your God; sanctify yourselves therefore, and be holy, for I am holy … I am the Lord who brought you up from the land of Egypt, to be your God; you shall be holy, for I am holy” (Lev 11:44–45; see also 19:2; 20:7, 26). And righteousness is declared by various prophets as who the Lord God requires of God’s people (Isa 5:7: 11:4–5; 32:16–17; 52:1, 7; Jer 22:3; 23:5; Hos 10:12; Amos 5:24; Zeph 2:3).
Finally, the closing verses of this song contain evocative imagery which draws from poems in Hebrew Scripture. “The dawn from on high will break upon us” (v.78) resonates with Third Isaiah’s words that “your light shall break forth like the dawn and your healing shall spring up quickly” (Isa 58:8). That dawn will “give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death” (v.79) references the numerous places where light breaks into darkness (Ps 18:12; Isa 9:2; 42:16; 58:10; Mic 7:8; and see the same dynamic in the creation account at Gen 1:1–5). The phrase “the shadow of death” (v.79) alludes to “the valley of the shadow of death” in Ps 23:4.
Then, the final affirmation that this breaking dawn will “guide our feet into the way of peace” (v.79) refers to Third Isaiah again, in his lament that “the way of peace”, missing in his time, will surely come. This oracle, in fact, splices together the same ending notes that we find in Zechariah’s song: “the way of peace they do not know, and there is no justice in their paths; their roads they have made crooked; no one who walks in them knows peace. Therefore justice is far from us, and righteousness does not reach us; we wait for light, and lo! there is darkness; and for brightness, but we walk in gloom” (Isa 59:8–9).
Indeed, in the following oracle the prophet declares: “Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you. Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn.” (Isa 60:1–3). Or, as Zechariah sings, “By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1:78–79).
One of the passages offered by the lectionary for this Sunday, the second Sunday in Advent, is a well-known and familiar passage, and although it is proposed as “the Psalm” for this Sunday, it is found in the New Testament—in the long first chapter of this Gospel, which leads into the Christmas story. The passage offered (Luke 1:68–79) comprises the text of a psalm-like song that is often called The Benedictus, after the opening phrase of the song in the Latin translation.
The whole song resonates in every line with words, ideas, concepts from the Hebrew Scriptures. Luke, of course, was writing many decades after the events he reports; he certainly wasn’t present at the time John was born, and it is most unlikely that any of the people he refers to as his sources (Luke 1:2) were witnesses to this. Rather, it is sensible for us to consider that this song was placed in the mouth of Zechariah, drawing extensively from the Hebrew Scriptures.
The blessing which opens the song (v.68) has the standard form of blessings found in prayers by Jews in antiquity, through until today; they begin with a phrase of blessing: “Blessed are you, O Lord our God …”. Blessed are You, O Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, Who brings forth bread from the earth is prayed before a meal. Blessed are You, o Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, who creates the fruit of the vine is prayed before drinking wine. Zechariah begins in this pattern, “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel”, before proceeding to indicate how God has been at work.
Another key scriptural element in his song comes when Zechariah refers to God as “Most High” (v.76). This way of describing God is found in a prayer of Abraham (Gen 14:22), where he seems to have adopted it from King Melchizedek of Salem, who is introduced as “priest of God Most High” (Gen 14:18–20). It is repeated by Balaam in his oracle (Num 24:15–16), once in the lengthy Song of Moses (Deut 32:8), and once in the lengthy Song attributed to David at the end of his life (2 Sam 22:14).
Prophets who used this phrase included Isaiah, once (Isa 14:14), Hosea, once (Hos 11:7), the author of Lamentations (Lam 3:35, 38), and Daniel (Dan 4:24–25; 5:17, 21; 7:18, 21, 25–27), who appears to have picked up this phrase from King Nebuchadnezzar (Dan 3:26; 4:2, 17, 34). The phrase is most common in the psalms, where it appears 23 times (for instance, Ps 7:17; 9:2; 21:7; 46:4; 47:2; 50:14; 57:2; 91:1, 9; 97:9; 106:7; 107:11). The same appellation then appears in eight other places in the New Testament (Mark 5:7; Luke 1:32, 35; 6:35; 8:28; Acts 7:48; 16:17; and Heb 7:1, referring back to King Melchizedek).
The focus of this song, as is the case also in the song sung earlier by Mary, as well as in each of the missionary speeches reported in Acts 2–17, is on “what God has done”, a theme of significance throughout Luke and Acts—as I have argued in my PhD thesis, The plan of God in Luke—Acts (1993), and in my commentary on Acts in the Eerdman’sCommentary on the Bible (2003).
Three times in this song Zechariah mentions the redemptive power of God, who “has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them” (v.68), “saved [the people] from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us” (v.71), and “rescued [them] from the hands of our enemies” (v.74). Calling God “Redeemer” is typical of Second Isaiah (Isa 41:14; 43:14; 44:6, 24; 47:4; 48:1, 17; 49:7, 26; 54:5, 8) and continues in Third Isaiah (Isa 59:20; 60:16; 63:16). It is also found in other books (Job 19:1, 25; Ps 19:14; 78:35; Jer 50:34).
God is identified as Saviour (2 Sam 22:3; Ps 17:7; 106:21; Isa 43:3, 11; 45:15, 21; 49:26; 60:16; 73:8; Hos 13:4) and praised as one who saves (1 Sam 10:19; 14:39; Ps 34:18; 37:40) and also rescues (Ps 34:17, 19; 37:40; 97:10; Amos 3:12). The language on the lips of Zechariah is thoroughly scriptural.
Alongside this, there are two references in this song to the mercy of God, as Zechariah sings of “the tender mercy of our God” (v.78) and rejoiced that God “has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors” (v.72). In the ancestral narratives of Israel, mercy is noted as a quality of God by Jacob (Gen 43:14), David (2 Sam 24:14; 1 Chron 21:13), and Nehemiah (Neh 1:11). Of course, involved in the ritual of worship in the Tabernacle and then in the Temple is the sprinkling of sacrificial blood on the “mercy seat” in the holy place (Lev 16:2, 12–14); the seeking of mercy from the Lord was at the heart of the annual Day of Atonement ritual.
Even as they call the people to account for their sins, prophets occasionally proclaim the mercy of God (Isa 30:18; 55:7; 60:10; 63:7; Jer 31:20; 33:26; 42:12; Ezek 39:25; Dan 9:9; Hos 2:19; 14:3). Daniel instructs his companions, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah, “to seek mercy from the God of heaven” (Dan 2:18) while in Zechariah’s first vision the angel pleads with the Lord for mercy (Zech 1:12).
Many times in the psalms there are prayers seeking God’s mercy: “be mindful of your mercy, O Lord” (Ps 25:6); “do not, O Lord, withhold your mercy from me” (Ps 40:11); “let your mercy come to me, that I may live” (Ps 119:77); and most famously, in the prayer attributed to David after he had committed adultery and murder, “have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions” (Ps 51:1). In the fifth Song of Ascents, the psalmist pleads, “have mercy upon us, O Lord, have mercy upon us, for we have had more than enough of contempt” (Ps 123:3).
Then, when Luke has Zechariah describe this mercy as a “tender mercy”, it may well be that the words of Hosea are in mind: “how can I give you up, Ephraim? how can I hand you over, O Israel? … my heart recoils within me; my compassion grows warm and tender. I will not execute my fierce anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim” (Hos 11:8–9). It is a touching moment in the prophet’s words; and a nice touch in the song that Luke places in the mouth of Zechariah.
The orderly account of the things coming to fulfilment (which we know as the Gospel of Luke) tells us much more about the beginnings of Jesus (his conception, birth, and early days) than the other Gospels. The passage offered by the lectionary as the psalm for this Sunday, the second Sunday in Advent, is one such text.
It’s a well-known and familiar passage, and although it is proposed as “the Psalm” for this Sunday, it is found in the New Testament—in the long first chapter of this Gospel, which leads into the Christmas story. The passage offered (Luke 1:68–79) comprises the text of a psalm-like song that is often called The Benedictus, after the opening phrase of the song in the Latin translation.
The song occurs after the birth of John, son of Elizabeth and Zechariah (recounted in 1:57–58). This is a surprise pregnancy for Elizabeth, who was described as being “barren”, and with Zechariah is noted as “getting on in years” (a better translation would be “of advanced years”) (1:7). During the announcement of the imminent birth of a child (1:8–20), Zechariah had questioned the declaration of the angel Gabriel, asking “How will I know that this is so? For I am an old man, and my wife is getting on in years” (1:18). For this lack of faith in what Gabriel has said, Zechariah is struck dumb (1:20).
Being muted by the action of the deity was the experience of the prophet Ezekiel, immediately after the vision that he saw which initiated his public prophetic activity. Before he could speak to the people, Ezekiel was given a scroll, which he was told to eat, and then he was informed by the Lord that “I will make your tongue stick to your palate so that you will become dumb and be unable to reprove them, for they are a rebellious people” (Ezek 3:26). Only after this experience can he prophesy to the people of Israel.
Zechariah’s experience mirrors the experience of Ezekiel. When Zechariah is eventually enabled to speak again, after the birth of his son, he offers the wonderful hymn of praise which forms this Sunday’s psalm— the Benedictus, so called from its appearance in the Latin text of the Roman Mass, Benedictus (in the original Greek text, it is eulogētēs; in English translation, this becomes “blessed”).
A depiction of Zechariah from the collection by photographer James C. Lewis
Zechariah, we are told, “was filled with the Holy Spirit” and spoke words described by Luke as “this prophecy” (Luke 1:67). This places Zechariah in the long line of prophets inspired by the Spirit to speak with boldness to the people. God’s Spirit is active in many of these scenes early in this Gospel; Mary is “overshadowed” by the Spirit (1:35), whilst Zechariah and Elizabeth are both “filled” with the Spirit (1:41, 1:67). Simeon is “righteous and devout” (2:25); the Spirit “rested on him” (2:25), then “revealed to him” the words he then speaks (2:26) before “guiding him … into the temple” (2:27).
This is the same Spirit that has been active since the moment of creation (Gen 1:2), that was breathed into human beings (Gen 2:7), and that infuses every one of the creatures brought into being in God’s wonderful creation (Ps 104:24–30). It is this Spirit that has endowed individuals with leadership (Exod 31:2–3; Num 11:25–26; Deut 34:9; and a number of judges) and which has inspired prophets to proclaim the word of the Lord (Isa 61:1; Ezek 2:2; Joel 2:28–29).
The words sung by Zechariah resonate richly with words from scripture. This is part of the technique being employed by the author of this Gospel in these opening two chapters, when, to set the scene firmly within Second Temple Judaism, he tells the story in ways reminiscent of the ancestral narratives of the Hebrew Scriptures, and has the main characters (Zechariah, Mary, and later Simeon) sing in the style of Hebraic psalms.
Some scholars refer to the Septuagintal style of Luke 1–2, because of the many ways that the Greek of these chapters reflect the Greek of the LXX. Other scholars refer to the Semitisms of Luke, here and in other places in his Gospel. A detailed and complex analysis by Albert Hogeterp and Adelbert Denaux, Semitisms in Luke’s Greek, can be read at https://api.pageplace.de/preview/DT0400.9783161553370_A33723451/preview-9783161553370_A33723451.pdf
Luke, of course, was writing many decades after the events he reports; he certainly wasn’t present at the time, and it is most unlikely that any of the people he refers to as his sources (Luke 1:2) were witnesses to them. Nevertheless, we could accept Luke’s portrayal of these two people as at least feasible. Zechariah was, with Elizabeth, “righteous before God” (Luke 1:6); as a priest, he served in the temple (Luke 1:8–9), and so would have known well the psalms. The form of the song he sang correlates with various psalms of praise; although in my mind, it was Luke who created this song and placed it on the lips of Zechariah, just as he did with the many speeches he includes in his Gospel and especially in Acts.
Zechariah would also have heard regular readings from Torah in temple worship, which is evident in the description of both Elizabeth and Zechariah as “living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord” (1:6). This knowledge, along with his familiarity with the words of the Nevi’im (the prophets), is evident in what he sings in this song. Indeed, there is specific reference in the song to what has happened “as [God] spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old” (v.70).
What Zechariah is singing about is, in a sense, a rich fulfilment of older prophetic texts (but there are many references to narrative and psalms, as well). In particular, he sings about how God has been at work, and is at work, in events of the time, just as Mary had done so earlier in this chapter in her song known as the Magnificat (Luke 1:46–55). On this, see
As we continue in Advent, the Narrative Lectionary is continuing the sequence of passages from the prophets in ancient Israel. This coming Sunday, just four verses from the book of Joel are proposed (Joel 2:12–13, 28–29). The reason for these verses will become evident in my commentary that follows. But I think that the best approach is to begin with a consideration of the book as a whole; this gives the context (as best as we can determine) for those particular verses.
Joel speaks words of lament and calls for repentance amongst the people of Judah. Nothing in this book provides any clues as to the time when Joel was active. The identification of the prophet as “son of Pethuel” (Joel 1:1) gives no clue, as Pethuel appears nowhere else in the Hebrew Scriptures—indeed, the name Joel, itself appears nowhere else. The name appears to combine the divine names of Jah and El, suggesting that it may be a symbolic creation. Was Joel an historical person? or not?
Joel calls on the “ministers of God” to “put on sackcloth and lament” (1:13); this reminds us of the response of the pagans in Nineveh (Jonah 3), whilst his remonstrations that “the day of the Lord is near” (1:15) echoes the motif of “the day” already sounded by other prophets (Amos 5:18–20; Isa 2:12, 17; 13:6–8; 34:8; Zeph 1:7, 14–15; Jer 35:32–33; 46:10).
This day forms the centrepiece of Joel’s undated prophecies, as he describes that day as “a day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and thick darkness!” (Joel 2:2), when “the earth quakes before them, the heavens tremble, the sun and the moon are darkened, and the stars withdraw their shining” (2:10). He describes the response of the people “in anguish, all faces grow pale” (2:6).
However, Joel adheres to the constant thread running through Hebrew Scriptures, that the Lord is “gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing” (2:13). Because of this, he yearns for the people to “turn with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning” (2:12), sensing that there might be hope of restitution for the people. (These two verses form the start of the excerpt proposed for this Sunday by the Narrative Lectionary.)
Joel calls for the people to gather (2:15–16); the oracle that follows paints a picture of abundance and blessing (2:18–27), affirming that “my people shall never again be put to shame” (2:27).
The prophet then speaks words which have been given a central place in the later story of the Christian church, when he foreshadows that the blessings of God will be manifest through the outpouring of the spirit: “your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions; even on the male and female slaves, in those days, I will pour out my spirit” (2:28–29).
The promise that is set forth here is specifically for “all flesh”; this universal vision informs the whole outward impulse of the movement of followers of Jesus, after the day of Pentecost, which Peter interprets as being a fulfilment of this prophecy (Acts 2:14–21). And that most likely explains why these two verses (2:28–29) form the concluding section of the passage proposed by the Narrative Lectionary.
The day of the Lord that is then envisaged (2:31) will signal a significant reversal for Israel. The Lord laughs at other nations (3:1–8), a reversal that pivots on a turn from despair to hope, from the threats of judgement to a glorious future (3:9–21). Joel repeats the irenic vision of swords being beaten into ploughshares (3:10; see Isa 2:4; Mic 4:3); he sees a ripe harvest (3:13), the land will drip with sweet wine, and there will be milk and water in abundance (3:18). The voice of the Lord “roars from Zion, and utters his voice from Jerusalem, and the heavens and the earth shake” (3:16; cf the similar pronouncement of Amos at Am 1:2; 3:8).
The last word of this book, “the Lord dwells on Zion” (3:21), provides assurance and certainty for the future. These words of hope promises a peaceful future for the nation. When Joel might have been speaking these words cannot be definitively determined; it could have been under the Assyrian threat, during the Babylonian dominance, in the time of exile, or after the return to the land—whatever it was, the promise of hope holds good in each of these scenarios. As, indeed, we might well claim it for our present times.
The prophet Jeremiah lived at a turning point in the history of Israel. The northern kingdom had been conquered by the Assyrians in 721 BCE; the elite classes were taken into exile, the land was repopulated with people from other nations (2 Kings 17). The southern kingdom had been invaded by the Assyrians in 701 BCE, but they were repelled (2 Kings 18:13–19:37). King Hezekiah made a pact with the Babylonians, but the prophet Isaiah warned that the nation would eventually fall to the Babylonians (2 Kings 20:12–19). Babylon conquered Assyria in 607 BCE and pressed hard to the south; the southern kingdom fell in 587 BCE (2 Kings 24–25) and “Judah went into exile out of its land” (2 Ki 25:21).
Jeremiah lived in the latter years of the southern kingdom, through into the time of exile—although personally, he was sent into exile in Egypt, even though most of his fellow Judahites were taken to Babylon. The difficult experiences of Jeremiah as a prophet colour many of his pronouncements. As the book moves on from the poetic oracles of chapters 1–25, to a series of prose narratives in chapters 26–45, some key events in the life of Jeremiah are reported.
The passage from Jeremiah proposed for this coming Sunday, the first Sunday in Advent (Jer 33:14–16), contains a specific prophecy which appears fitting for this season, as we anticipate the celebration of the birth of Jesus. It takes on a deeper meaning if we understand where it fits within the original historical context of the time when Jeremiah was speaking.
Jeremiah had been called as a youth to declare the message of the Lord to the people of Israel, that God was planning “to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant” (Jer 1:10). Years later, the adult prophet Jeremiah was called to “stand in the court of the Lord’s house and speak to all the cities of Judah that come to worship in the house of the Lord; speak to them all the words that I command you; do not hold back a word” (Jer 26:2). His message was about their failure to walk in the law that God had given them. The response from the ruling class is not positive—in fact, Jeremiah is threatened with death (26:7–11).
However, the midst of his despair, Jeremiah sees hope: “the days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will restore the fortunes of my people, Israel and Judah, says the Lord, and I will bring them back to the land that I gave to their ancestors and they shall take possession of it” (30:3). In this context, Jeremiah indicates that the Lord “will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah … I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people” (31:31–34).
To signal his confidence in this promised return, Jeremiah buys a field in his hometown of Anathoth from his cousin Hanamel (32:1–15). The narrator notes that “the army of the king of Babylon was besieging Jerusalem, and the prophet Jeremiah was confined in the court of the guard that was in the palace of the king of Judah, where King Zedekiah of Judah had confined him” (32:2–3). Nevertheless, the purchase serves to provide assurance that the exiled people will indeed return to the land of Israel; “houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land” (32:15).
Jeremiah exhorts the people to “give thanks to the Lord of hosts, for the Lord is good, for his steadfast love endures forever!” (33:11), because in the places laid waste by the Babylonians, “in all its towns there shall again be pasture for shepherds resting their flocks … flocks shall again pass under the hands of the one who counts them, says the Lord” (33:12–13). As the people return to the land, the Lord “will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land” (33:15). The title “Son of David” is later applied to Jesus in three Gospels (Mark 10:47–48; Matt 1:1; 12:23; 15:22; 21:9, 15; Luke 18:38–39).
The prophet Isaiah also refers to the “shoot [which] shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots; the spirit of the Lord shall rest on him” (11:1–2). The appearance of this “shoot” will lead to the promised time when “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” (11:6)—a wonderful Messianic prophecy.
Jeremiah, in an earlier oracle, had declared that “the days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land” (Jer 23:5). His words at Jer 33:14–16 repeat this message of hope. That hope, in Christian theology, was taken up in Jesus, who was claimed to be the righteous branch, the one ruling with justice (Matt 12:15–21). Jesus spoke clearly about the need for justice in our lives (Matt 23:23; Luke 7:29). He spoke in the tradition of the prophets, including Jeremiah, who had regularly reminded the people,of Israel of the centrality of doing justice for those who were obedient to the covenant with the Lord God.
In speaking out for justice, Jesus provided a clear countercultural vision for his followers, and called them into a radically different way of living. It is that Jesus whom we celebrate at Christmas, and that countercultural vision that is at the heart of the Advent season.
This coming Sunday is the first day in a new year-at least, as the church marks the years. Rather beginning on the first day of January (for the calendar month) or of July (for the financial year), the church year begins with the season of Advent. The season stretches over four weeks and serves as preparation for the joyous celebration of Christmas, marking the birth of Jesus. So this coming Sunday in worship, it would be quite appropriate to wish other people a happy new year!
It is the custom more generally in society to make “New Year resolutions”—even if such resolutions rarely last weeks, or even days, into the new year. In keeping with that custom, perhaps it could be appropriate for people of faith to use the words of the psalm proposed by the lectionary for this coming Sunday, the First Sunday in Advent.
In Psalm 25, the psalmist sets out a clear view of what it is that God expects of people of faith. First, the psalmist begins by offering their “soul” to God, declaring “O my God, in you I trust” (vv.1–2). The Hebrew word translated as “soul” in v.1 is nephesh. This is a common Hebrew word, appearing 688 times in Hebrew Scripture, of which the most common translation (238 times) is “soul”; the next most common translation is “life” (180 times). The word is thus a common descriptor for a human being, as a whole.
However, to use the English word “soul” to translate nephesh does it a disservice. We have become acclimatised to regarding the soul as but one part of the whole human being—that is the influence of dualistic Platonic thinking, where “body and soul” refer to the two complementary parts of a human being. In Hebrew, nephesh has a unified, whole-of-person reference, quite separate from the dualism that dominates a Greek way of thinking.
Nephesh appears a number of times in the first creation story in Hebrew scripture, where it refers to “living creatures” in the seas (Gen 1:20, 21), on the earth (Gen 1:24), and to “every beast of the earth, and to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life (nepheshhayah)” (Gen 1:30). It is found also in the second creation story, where it likewise describes how God formed a man from the dust of the earth and breathed the breath of life into him, and “the man became a living being (nepheshhayah)” (Gen 2:7). The claim that each living creature is a nephesh is reiterated in the Holiness Code (Lev 11:10, 46; 17:11).
The concept of nephesh is a foundational understanding in Hebraic thought: the nephesh is the totality of existence for every creature, including humans. In our psalm for this Sunday, then, the psalmist offers their whole being to God, placing trust in God. This is a fine model for us to consider and emulate throughout the whole of the year: discipleship is a whole-of-being thing.
An attitude of trust towards God permeates the psalms. “Those who know your name put their trust in you”, one psalmist affirms, “for you, O Lord, have not forsaken those who seek you” (Ps 9:10). Another psalmist sings “I trust in you, O Lord; I say, ‘You are my God’; my times are in your hand” (Ps 31:14–15). A third psalmist affirms, “I am like a green olive tree in the house of God; I trust in the steadfast love of God forever and ever” (Ps 52:8). In yet another psalm, the writer sings “when I am afraid, I put my trust in you … in God I trust; I am not afraid” (Ps 52:3–4, 10–11).
One psalmist evokes the remembrance of trusting people in the past: “in you our ancestors trusted; they trusted, and you delivered them; to you they cried, and were saved; in you they trusted, and were not put to shame” (Ps 22:4–5). Another declares that they “trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation” (Ps 13:5), while yet another states “I have walked in my integrity, and I have trusted in the Lord without wavering” (Ps 26:1). Trust is a foundational element in our faith.
Then, the author of Psalm 25 prays for the ways in which they might know God’s ways: “make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths; lead me in your truth, and teach me” (vv.4–5). The paths of the Lord are probably best-known from the much-beloved Psalm 23, in the opening sequence of affirmations that the Lord “makes me lie down in green pastures … leads me beside still waters … restores my soul … [and] leads me in right paths” (Ps 23:2–3).
This psalmist later explains that “the paths of the Lord are steadfast love and faithfulness for those who keep his covenant and his decrees” (Ps 25:10). Another psalmist affirms, “my steps have held fast to your paths; my feet have not slipped” (Ps 17:5); yet another, in a well-known refrain, sings “word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (Ps 119:195). In like manner, another psalm rejoices that “you show me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy” (Ps 16:11).
Keeping to the path of the Lord requires knowing, and adhering to, the commandments of Torah, so one psalmist prays, “teach me to do your will, for you are my God; let your good spirit lead me on a level path” (Ps 143:10). In the longest psalm of all—an extended song of praise for Torah—the psalmist sings, “give me understanding, that I may keep your law and observe it with my whole heart; lead me in the path of your commandments, for I delight in it” (Ps 119:34–35). The prayer of Psalm 25, “make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths” reinforces the centrality of Torah obedience in the psalms.
Third, the psalm includes a short prayer seeking forgiveness: “do not remember the sins of my youth or my transgressions; according to your steadfast love remember me, for your goodness’ sake, O Lord!” (v.7). The petition is repeated a few verses later: “for your name’s sake, O Lord, pardon my guilt, for it is great” (v.11). Some psalms contain verses which echo this prayer: “consider my affliction and my trouble, and forgive all my sins” (Ps 25:8); “help us, O God of our salvation, for the glory of your name; deliver us, and forgive our sins, for your name’s sake” (Ps 79:9).
Other psalms offer an affirmation that God does, indeed, forgive: “when deeds of iniquity overwhelm us, you forgive our transgressions” (Ps 65:3); “if you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, Lord, who could stand? but there is forgiveness with you, so that you may be revered” (Ps 130:3–4); “bless the Lord, O my soul, and do not forget all his benefits—who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases” (Ps 103:2–3); “happy are those whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered” (Ps 32:1).
Forgiveness is of the essence of the Lord God, who is “is slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, forgiving iniquity and transgression” (Exod 34:6–8; Num 14:18; Neh 9:17b; Ps 145:8–9; Joel 2:13; Jonah 4:2; see also 2 Kings 13:23; 2 Chron 30:9). In one of the central episodes in the life of the Israelites, after they had made a golden calf, Moses pleads with God for forgiveness (Exod 32:32); after God had punished those who sinned in this episode by sending a plague (Exod 32:35), God is declared to be “abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin”, and the covenant is renewed (Exod 34:6–10).
Seeking forgiveness was central to the life of ancient Israelites, and continued on to be important in Second Temple Judaism. Indeed, it is this prayer for forgiveness which is taken up in the prayer that Jesus taught his disciples: “forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us” (Luke 11:4), or in what was likely an earlier version: “forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors” (Matt 6:12).
Finally, towards the end of the psalm, the psalmist prays, “may integrity and uprightness preserve me, for I wait for you” (v.21). Integrity and uprightness figure in other psalms. “I will walk with integrity of heart within my house”, one psalmist sings, “I will not set before my eyes anything that is base” (Ps 101:2–3), while another declares, “I have walked in my integrity, and I have trusted in the Lord without wavering” (Ps 26:1).
So one psalmist prays, “judge me, O Lord, according to my righteousness and according to the integrity that is in me” (Ps 7:8), while another affirms that the precepts of the Lord “are established forever and ever, to be performed with faithfulness and uprightness” (Ps 111:8). In another psalm we learn that “the Lord is righteous; he loves righteous deeds; the upright shall behold his face” (Ps 11:7), while another psalm declares that “justice will return to the righteous and all the upright in heart will follow it” (Ps 94:15). The motif of uprightness permeates these songs of faith.
When the psalmist sings, “for you I wait all day long” (Ps 25:5), they are reflecting a common attitude across many psalms, waiting for the Lord: “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits” (Ps 130:5–6), “it is for you, O Lord, that I wait; it is you, O Lord my God, who will answer” (Ps 38:15); “for God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him” (Ps 62:5). So the psalmist encourages others, “be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord” (Ps 31:24) and affirms that “those who wait for the Lord shall inherit the land” (Ps 37:9).
Such waiting is in no way a passive statement being, for such waiting, as we have seen, involves the whole being (the nephesh) in active obedience to Torah and a deliberate intention to live in an upright way. This same attitude could well inform the way that we, today, live as people of faith.
I think this is a great psalm to read and hear at the start of the (church) year. It offers us a number of ways to ground our faith and live as faithful disciples in today’s world. If you don’t regularly include a reading of a psalm in your worship liturgy, this Sunday is a really good day to do that!
The Narrative Lectionary is currently offering us a selection of passages from six of the prophets of ancient Israel: Jonah, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Daniel, Joel, and the anonymous post-exilic prophet whose words are collected in Isaiah 56–66. This coming Sunday we we will read and hear the passage from Daniel 6, which tells of Daniel being placed in grave danger in a den of lions, and then rescued by the command of King Darius of Persia.
Ironically, although he is considered one of the four Major Prophets in Hebrew Scripture, Daniel himself is never “called to be a prophet”, as we have seen in other prophetic books; he is introduced as one of a number of “young men without physical defect and handsome, endowed with knowledge and insight”, who were chosen “to be taught the literature and language of the Chaldeans” (1:3–5). Indeed, the Israelite Daniel is given a Babylonian name, Belteshazzar (1:7; 4:8), and his entire story takes place in the Babylonian court.
(The Chaldeans were part of the Babylonian Empire; centuries earlier they had settled beside the Euphrates in what became the southeastern edge of the Babylonian Empire. Abraham is said to have come from Ur, a city in the region of Chaldea; see Gen 11:31; 15:7.)
The story of the prophet Daniel is thus set outside Israel, in the time of exile, after the conquest of the southern kingdom by the Babylonians in 587 BCE (Dan 1:1–2; see 2 Kings 25). Daniel had been chosen to serve in the court of Nebuchadnezzar, who reigned from 605 BCE to 562 BCE (Dan 1:3–7); when the Persians took control of the Babylonian empire in 539 BCE, Daniel continued to serve in a position of some power.
Scholars believe, however, that the story is told at a much later time, after the exile—perhaps even during the time of Seleucid superiority in the second century BCE. Two centuries after they had returned to the land of Israel, rebuilt their Temple, restored their cities and towns, and living under Persian rule, the people of Israel were over run by the troops of Alexander the Great, King of Macedonia, as he swept across the eastern Mediterranean region as Far East as modern day India. A new foreign power, and a new attitude towards the religion and customs of Israel.
Initially the interaction between Israelites and Macedonians was one of integration. Greek became the language of trade; syncretism marked the religious life of the people, as they adopted Greek customs. But when Antiochus Epiphanes came to power over the region, he introduced an altar in the temple to receive pagan offerings—something which, in Israelite eyes, was known a “desolating sacrilege” (Mark 13:14; 1 Mac 1:54). This appears to be clearly described in the final vision, recounting how forces “shall occupy and profane the temple and fortress, abolish the regular burnt offering and set up the abomination that makes desolate” (Dan 11:31).
A clear reflection of the exile experience is that an extended section of the book (2:4b—7:28) is written in Aramaic, a language which evolved from Hebrew because of the influence of Babylonian culture and language on the exiled Israelites. The rest of the book (like all the rest of Hebrew Scripture) is written in Hebrew. Whereas Aramaic became the common language of Jews even when they were living back in Israel (and this was the case by the time of Jesus), Hebrew was preserved as the holy language of scripture.
Curiously, the book has two distinct parts, which overlap this linguistic division; each part is likely to have originated in a different time after the exile. The first six chapters recount stories about Daniel, who was serving in the court and enjoyed friendly relations with the monarch; the style is one found in other legends about courtiers and dream interpreters. Chapters 7–12 comprise a series of apocalyptic visions which appear to contain some very direct references to events that took place in the second century BCE. These chapters come “from the mouth of Daniel”, as it were, rather than being stories about him (as in chapters 1–6).
Daniel has been operating in the murky arena of national politics: then, as now, a fraught environment! He has twice advised the king by interpreting dreams. Whilst Daniel exercised his role as a satrap under Darius the Mede, a conspiracy was formed against him as opponents looked to bring him down. When he is caught praying to the Lord God, despite the interdict of the king (6:1–15), he is thrown into the lion’s den (6:16).
The next morning, the king hurries to the den, and finds Daniel alive; his prayers have miraculously saved him (6:19–22). Daniel is released from the lion’s den and rescued from danger (6:23–28); Darius issues an edict praising “the living God” whose “kingdom shall never be destroyed, and his dominion has no end; he delivers and rescues, he works signs and wonders in heaven and on earth” (6:26–27).
If the story was written (as is thought by many) during the time of the Seleucids, its depiction of a foreign ruler who is positively disposed towards Israel’s God is striking. Under Antiochus Epiphanes, the colonising forces of the Macedonians “built a gymnasium in Jerusalem, according to Gentile custom, and removed the marks of circumcision, and abandoned the holy covenant; they joined with the Gentiles and sold themselves to do evil” (1 Mac 1:14–15). Antiochus not only erected an image in the temple (the “desolation of sacrilege”), but even had the scrolls of Torah collected and burnt—many centuries before the Nazis did this (you can read the details of his rule in 1 Mac 1:41–64).
The author of Daniel is writing political literature as political critique. We know that Antiochus provoked a political uprising led by the Maccabees, the sons of Matthias (1 Mac 2—6)—figures later upheld as heroes by the Zealots in the time of Jesus. The book of Daniel provides a rationale for the zealous ideology of the Maccabees, seeking to put in place a righteous leadership in Israel.
Carol Newsom observes that “in several narratives in the book of Daniel, the king humbly confesses the sovereignty of the God of the Jews, acknowledging that he rules by the will of God” (“Political Theology in the Book of Daniel: An Internal Debate”, Review and Expositor, vol. 109, 2012, pp.557–568). Prof. Newsom continues, “other parts of the book depict the gentile king as being part of God’s plan, but a part that will ultimately be destroyed as incompatible with divine sovereignty.” We see this clearly in view in chapters 1—6.
The season of Advent, which begins this Sunday, marks the beginning of a new year in the calendar of the church. Advent is a period of four weeks of preparation ahead of the joyous celebration of Christmas, marking the birth of Jesus, and the season of Epiphany, recognising that with the birth of Jesus, “the light of the world” has been revealed.
There is a parallel of a kind with the season of Lent, which is a longer period of 40 days of preparation leading into the high days of Easter, remembering the last meal, arrest, and trial of Jesus, his crucifixion and burial, and his raising from the dead and appearing to his followers. And following after these central days, there is the whole 50-day season Easter, in which the presence of the risen Jesus in the church is remembered.
Each season builds in anticipation towards a climactic moment in the story of Jesus. During Advent, the lectionary offers us a process to build towards the Christmas celebration by offering passages from Gospel, Epistle, Prophets, and song-like selections (both from the Psalms and the Gospel) which celebrate the joyous notes of salvation found scattered throughout scripture.
These passages begin on Advent 1 by affirming that God will fulfil promises made earlier (Jer 33:14–16), giving thanks in joyfulness (1 Thess 3:9–13) and recalling the mercy, steadfast love, and faithfulness (Psalm 25). The selection from the Gospel is drawn from the final apocalyptic discourse of Jesus (which runs through Luke 21, verses 8–36), where he speaks about “dreadful portents and great signs from heaven”, deception and warfare, and “great distress on the earth and wrath against this people”. Yet the final section of this speech (Luke 21:25–36) points towards the time when “your redemption is drawing near” (v.28) and “the kingdom of God is near” (v.31). It is an invitation to anticipate and to celebrate.
For Advent 2, the prophetic word comes from two prophets: Malachi declares that God “sending my messenger to prepare the way before me” (Mal 3:1–4) and Zechariah looks with hope towards a time when “in the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us” (Luke 1:68–79). The lectionary shares the deep confidence of those waiting for “the day of the Lord” (Phil 1:3–11), and a reminder that, in the coming of Jesus, “all flesh shall see the salvation of God” (Luke 3:6). The sense of celebratory anticipation continues to build.
Then, for Advent 3, further prophetic words sound forth from Zephaniah, urging people to “rejoice and exult with all your heart” (Zeph 3:14), and from Isaiah, celebrating the salvation that comes from God and rejoicing that “great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel” (Isa 12:1–6). These words of hope and joy are accompanied by Paul’s exhortations to “rejoice in the Lord always” (Phil 4:4–7) and the prophet John’s proclamation of “good news” regarding “one who is more powerful than I is coming”—which includes stern reminders about the importance of acting with equity and justice (Luke 3:7–18).
It is that sense of justice which imbues the prophetic words attributed to the young Mary, which we hear on Advent 4. Mary “magnifies the Lord” and anticipates that the Lord God will have “scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts … brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly … filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty” (Luke 1:46–55). These words resonate with an older oracle spoken by Micah, who looked towards “one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days”, one who would bring peace and security to the people of Israel (Micah 5:2–5).
These two oracles sit alongside the psalmist’s acknowledgement of the reality of hardship and even infidelity amongst the people of God, whose story has been that the Lord God has “fed them with the bread of tears and given them tears to drink in full measure”. Nevertheless, the psalmist is confident that faithful people will know that God has come to save them (Ps 80:1–7).
And so the lectionary offers also words from an unknown writer, addressing a “word of exhortation” to “the Hebrews” in the assurance that “it is by God’s will that we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all” (Heb 10:5–10). (My personal view is that this passage sits rather oddly in the sequence of passages offered during Advent, with its priestly focus on sacrifices and offerings pointing to a different aspect of the story of Jesus—one which is more fitting to the Lenten period just before Easter.)
In these four weeks, the notes of hope and confidence, joy and justice, resound with increasing intensity, as we draw closer to Christmas. And for that festival, in a sequence of three passages from Isaiah, the three men whose work is collected under this single name declare the hope that marks the season, just as it had marked the people long ago in Israel.
Alongside these prophetic words, the lectionary offers three joyful songs (Psalms 96—98), the same notes of joy and justice are sounded yet again, even as the Gospel passage offers the story of the birth of Jesus as Luke tells it (Luke 2:1–20), climaxing in “good news of great joy for all the people” (v.10) and the angelic hymn, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favours!” (v.14).
An Informed Faith 