This is my meditation on the lectionary reading from Psalm 80, which reads:
To the leader: on Lilies, a Covenant. Of Asaph. A Psalm.
Give ear, O Shepherd of Israel,
you who lead Joseph like a flock!
You who are enthroned upon the cherubim, shine forth
before Ephraim and Benjamin and Manasseh.
Stir up your might,
and come to save us!
Restore us, O God;
let your face shine, that we may be saved.
O Lord God of hosts,
how long will you be angry with your people’s prayers?
You have fed them with the bread of tears,
and given them tears to drink in full measure.
You make us the scorn of our neighbours;
our enemies laugh among themselves.
Restore us, O God of hosts;
let your face shine, that we may be saved.
But let your hand be upon the one at your right hand,
the one whom you made strong for yourself.
Then we will never turn back from you;
give us life, and we will call on your name.
Restore us, O Lord God of hosts;
let your face shine, that we may be saved.
•••••••••
My Meditation:
Since I arrived here, we started a tradition of fasting from communion during Advent. And so I bring the empty chalice and paten or communion plate to place in our midst. These are to signify our fasting and hunger, not as punishment or penance as in Lent, but as a focus for our longing, our desire for Christ to come. It is a time to own up to our own emptiness, to confess our incompleteness, our continuing need for God to restore us. So let this empty chalice and paten signify to us the space of a womb of desire in us, that will silently and invisibly become full in these coming weeks.
But Never in living memory has our whole nation and indeed the whole world known such a fast as this year. Restaurants have been closed or sparsely attended. Grocery shelves have gone bare. The unemployed have tried to scrape by. And of course, many have died, and their loved ones have known great mourning. “You fed them bread of tears, and given them tears to drink.”
Never before in living memory have we had such a difficult time recognizing our neighbor as one of us. Our political division has grown to such an extent, bolstered by wild conspiracy theories and the mercurial internet, that it feels like our worst enemy may live next door. “You make us the scorn of our neighbors; our enemies laugh among themselves.”
O God, look and see: Our cup is already empty. Our plate is already void.
We don’t need Advent to remind us of that, this year. But Advent is also a time of turning, of looking East for the star and light, of anticipating the new day. This year we remember that we have the courage and strength to praise God for this empty cup and plate because we already have faith in Christ. We already have seen God’s face shine. Imagine, for a moment, if that were not so. It is not so for many people today, and it was not so for many who have passed with the sands of time. Imagine if we still did not know who God was, or whether God was indeed favorable to humankind. Imagine if all we had was either poorly founded hope, or well-founded despair? But for the grace of God, that would be us.
In Advent, we have a time of the year when we can most identify with the captive Israel, or the one who does not know God’s face. We can identify with compassion and full empathy, for in truth all of us feel God far away from time to time. Don’t run from that feeling. Embrace it, especially in a time such as this one. For we bear the absence of God from within our covenant of grace. We do so knowing God has shown God’s face and will not depart forever. There will be a vaccine. The economy will recover. The transfer of power will happen. Moreover, We bear God’s absence knowing that Christmas morning will come with its world-embracing, life-loving joy. Our plate will be full, our cup will run over. I bet you will feel it Christmas morning. Even if you don’t, you know it’s true. You know God is with us.
professortopastor 