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. Isaiah 11: 2-9
And I’m forced to ask myself uncomfortable questions about who the equivalent of Isaiah’s Assyrian oppressors are today? And who among us are the lambs, the vulnerable, those longing just to be safe, to be at the table, to have their voices taken seriously? And, what, heaven forbid, can I do in the midst of it all?
According to his own account Isaiah “saw” God and was overwhelmed by the experience. He became profoundly aware of God’s need for a messenger to the people of Israel. Like Moses he knew too well of his own imperfections. Yet, despite his own sense of inadequacy, Isaiah offered himself for God’s service: “Here am I! Send me.” He was thus commissioned to give voice to the divine word. It was no small undertaking, of course. Isaiah was to condemn his own people and watch his nation fall. As he tells it, he was only too aware that, coming with such a message, he would experience incredible opposition, willful disbelief, and ridicule.
I pray that this Advent we can all be asking ourselves such serious questions of call, courage, vocation, justice, reconciliation and peace. Direct service is HARD. Political advocacy is even harder, because, like Isaiah, we know of its tremendous social and emotional costs. Standing up to share a witness with the forgotten in the culture, or of the forgotten parts of ourselves, is risky. It can be controversial! How might we take small steps, at least? If we read, could we for just one month choose to read books written only by immigrants, or African Americans, or those in the LGBTQ+ community? If we pray, for whom might we pray who we have never prayed for before - the orphan, the widow, the poor, the stranger? If we serve, how might we for one month advocate instead for the hungry, the vulnerable, those in places of intimate partner violence or international violence?
I’m not instinctively drawn to conflict, or justice work, or advocacy or protest. But I am inspired to it, by a God who sees ALL people as beloved and calls us to challenge our world to do so as well. By a Christ who saw that children, tax collectors, women and foreigners also bear the face of the divine. This Advent I pray to be brave for the sake of Christ.
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.
Walking beside you,
Bishop Laurie
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