“A Message of Hope”

Jeremiah 31:7-14

A sermon preached by Lynn Welton, Student Minister

December 1, 2002

University Baptist Church

Minneapolis, MN

 

 

When I was very young, I learned that advent was a Latin word meaning “Christmas will never come.”  I knew that we were Catholic, just like Mary the mother of Jesus who was always pictured praying the rosary on my holy cards.  I knew that, just like my best friend Stephanie Stein and her family, Mary’s son Jesus was Jewish.  I didn’t know what Joseph was.  This “holy family” was perfect despite their religious differences which included Jesus’ cousin John who was Baptist.

I didn’t know what a womb was, but I knew that Mary had one and that there was fruit in it.  I even knew what kind of fruit it was:  Hail Mary full of grapes.  And Virgin?  All I knew about the word virgin was that it was the last name of that little fat man in the Silent Night song who hung out with Mary and Jesus.  His full name was Round John Virgin. 

We went to Midnight Mass which in my home parish actually was at Midnight.  And before bed we were told that when we woke up on Christmas morning, baby Jesus was going to be under our tree.  This filled me with excitement and panic.  Where were we going to keep him?  What if he got hungry before we got up?  And why would he want to live with us?  I already had a baby sister and it wasn’t that great.  I got up about 3:00 in the morning to see if Santa had come (he had!) and to see if baby Jesus had arrived (he hadn’t).  Instead there was a dopey plaster dumb looking statuette that was supposed to look like Jesus (it didn’t).  It wasn’t what I expected, it wasn’t what I was looking for. And disappointed doesn’t even begin to express how I felt. 

Most of all, advent meant waiting and waiting for Christmas to come.  But, I could barely stand waiting.  I wanted Christmas now.  I wanted it so badly to come that I actually lost faith that it would ever happen. I wanted it so much that I wouldn’t give myself over to belief that it would come.  Finally it did come – and I have just shared with you what happened for me as a child. 

I have since grown up, but I have to admit that my impatience has multiplied.  I no longer wait impatiently for Christmas; Christmas comes soon enough for me these days.  I am impatient about different things.  I would also have to say that my confusion has not lessened, it has only become more sophisticated.  I am confused about different things.  For example, I am confused about today’s Scripture readings.  This is nothing new, the readings always confuse me.  Throughout this advent season our theme is “Prophets of Hope.”  So today is a day for prophets and prophecies.  But what kind of prophet was Jeremiah?  It seems to me that he was a doom and gloom prophet.  He was alarmed by the slightest injustice; he was an unbearable extremist; and he was miserable, lonely, and offensive. Viewed as traitor, Jeremiah was declared an outlaw. 

Here’s what’s confusing.  Today, Jeremiah brings good news.  He brings good news  to the exiles.  Jeremiah actually talks about joy.  I imagine that the people of his time must have wondered what happened to him.  The book of Jeremiah tells of a very dark chapter in the history of Israel.  It appeared that those exiled would never be allowed to return to their homeland.  They struggled to maintain their Hebrew identity in this foreign land, but it seemed that it would be only a matter of time before they would be assimilated into the dominant Babylonian culture, and the people of Israel would become a forgotten nation. 

However, in the midst of this nightmare, the prophet Jeremiah dreamed of a better day.  Into this seemingly hopeless situation, Jeremiah spoke words of encouragement.  The people must have thought he was a madman.  They had been annihilated in battle, the Temple had been decimated, and they had been hauled away to a distant land.  How could they possibly believe that one day they would be able to go back home?  But the prophet Jeremiah, through his mouth, makes it possible for the people of God to hear the voice of a God they cannot see. 

This message gives us cause to rejoice.  The exiled receive the good news, their brokenheartedness  will be healed, as captives they will be released, and a message of hope is received from the Most High.  God gathers all God’s people together.  God calls all who are exiled – all of us from every walk of life – are called together to be consoled, those who are thirsty will be led by brooks of water, all who stumble shall be lifted up.  God will make justice and praise spring up before all nations.  And we find that Jeremiah ultimately speaks for God to us. 

But here’s where it gets confusing again.  What is meant by good news?  I’m not talking about good news for most of us here today.  The vast majority of the world does not consider us the lowly or the exiled.  In the eyes of the poor of the world, we are wealthy beyond imagination.  Most of us have had our hearts broken, but most of us do not suffer the brokenheartedness of living in poverty under an oppressive political regime.  A few here may have been held prisoner for political beliefs, but a lot of us don’t get arrested no matter how many times we risk it.  Few of us have ever been homeless, but there are millions too poor to have shelter.  There are homeless right here in our own neighborhood.  For most of us, in our lifetime we have not had a war fought in our own country, but this week in Nigeria citizens have been attacked and killed by suicide bombings aimed to attract U.S. interests and attention.  In Israel and Palestine, civilians have been forced to leave their homes as sporadic shootings and the deep “BOOM” of houses being blown up by soldiers have become commonplace.  Huddled together in burned out structures they are “safe” in a tentative sort of way.   Inshallah – meaning “God Willing” – follows every statement of good or every commitment to a plan. 

How terrible it must be to have to flee your homeland because somebody has threatened your life.  This is an experience far too familiar to many people in Rwanda, Bosnia, Afghanistan, Israel and Palestine.  Some of these people have been in exile for many years and are still waiting for a time when they can go home.  The story of the flight of the Holy Family into Egypt should be one we know well; one that helps all of us to identify with the plight of all refugees. 

And on this day, World AIDS Day, we are reminded that 5 million people have become infected with the AIDS virus this year alone – 800 thousand of them are children.  In sub-Saharan Africa there were an estimated 3.4 million new HIV infections this year and 2.3 million deaths from AIDS.  In Swaziland and Botswana one third of all adults are HIV-positive.  Economic injustice and racism continue to obstruct one’s access to treatment for many in our own nation, and for most in the developing world. 

 

Millions of people live without basic health care, education, adequate food, and safe water because their countries are mired in debt that they have no hope of repaying.  Where’s the good news for these?

In the midst of the worst of times, Jeremiah gives the Israelites a glimpse of hope from God.  They are wandering aimlessly, unorganized, lacking in resources and vision.  In the past Jeremiah berated them for their sins and preached constantly about divine judgment.  Now, he focuses on new abundance – a time when poverty is certainly waning.  Grain and flocks are flourishing and wine and oil are flowing.  Jeremiah proclaims, “I will turn their mourning into joy, I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow.” (verse 13)  God is presented as a Shepard who is gathering the scattered flock.  In spite of their plight, God continues to hold them firmly in the grasp of divine grace. 

My best friend Jeannie, to whom I dedicate this worship service, had a younger brother named Danny.  Danny was among those the world considers lowly.  Brokenhearted and lonely, suffering from mental illness brought on by drug use during his freshman year in college, he would sometimes forget or refuse to take his medications.  Danny could be his happy, healthy self, a fun-loving brother and son – other times he would be tormented by voices in his head and it was frightening for others to be with him.  He would suddenly leave home for months at a time – exiled by his own mental illness – never letting his family know where or how he was.  Whenever he came home, it was because the local police of wherever he was, would recognize that Danny was ill.  They would notify Jeannie and her family, put Danny on a plane, and the family would bring Danny home.  Danny came home for the last time when he was only 26 years old.  Jeannie says that the funeral was a blur, but she remembered thinking about his life on the streets.  Every time he ate and every time he slept inside, it was because someone believed he was deserving of kindness and dignity. 

And now, as I think about today’s reading, I think that it was more than just someone believing that Danny deserved kindness and dignity.  For I believe that every act of compassion and every action motivated by the love of justice is good news.  Those strangers all over the country brought even homeless, hungry Danny some good news.

            Throughout this advent season we are being challenged to search for glimmers of hope, some thread of life, a bit of sunshine in a world of darkness.  We affirm each week in our worship service here at UBC that through our faith we are all children of God, for as many as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female.  Recently we have expanded this affirmation to include others we potentially consider to be exiled.  I remind you now, that we have been baptized by the Holy Spirit – and by fire.  And like John, the Baptizer, we not only can, but we must, be witnesses to the light of hope in God.  It’s not an invitation.  It’s a demand.  We have never been told that justice and praise would emerge as a gradual process.  We must allow justice to spring up before all nations through our own radical acts of love.  I am impatient.  I am very impatient for justice and hope to spring forth.  I think that advent is a season for impatience. And I hope that everyone of us can be blessed with a holy impatience.  I would like to see the whole world so impatient for justice to come that we make it happen.  As I re-wrote this sermon again last night, a startling thought came to me:  maybe if we truly are witnesses to the light and hope of God, if we are impatient, we ourselves can be the good news to the exiled. 

The annals of history tell us that Jeremiah was no madman.  The Jewish exiles did return to Jerusalem, they built a new temple, and they created new lives.  Jeremiah was not simply a dreamer with eloquent words of encouragement for those in despair, the actual experience of the Hebrew people bear out the truth of his words.  Surely, one great theme that we have to proclaim to all of those living in exile is the promise of hope, the promise that one day all people will be restored to their rightful home.  Our God is a God of hope because God is always seeking to transform the present situation into something new, something better.  Life can be full of surprises, because God is a God of new beginnings.  God seeks to lead us not only to new situations we deem impossible, but to new modes of being that we can’t even imagine.

God wants our lives to be filled with deep satisfaction.  God wants us to experience joy and beauty and meaning, and so God seeks to lead us to new opportunities that hold the potential for enriching our lives.  We live in a world that promises us every creature comfort.  But the earth and all the created order, is only a shadow of what God intends for us.  Our true home is the place we have yet to arrive; and when we do we will know we are truly home.  The refugee experience of the Holy Family, while a politically generated event, reminds us that even Jesus had nowhere to call home on this earth. 

We suffer many blows in life, it’s simply a part of human existence.  And we must determine how we will respond to the difficulties we encounter.  Jeremiah tells us that everything is going to be okay.  Jesus believed it and so can we.  Let’s rejoice because if we believe, then we can live in hope.  We can live in such a way that we are the good news and the world will be transformed.  Do not underestimate the power of what can happen when we are the good news. 

I pray that each one of us can live in joy and hope as we await for what is yet to come.  And during this advent season, I also pray that each one of us is blessed with a holy impatience.  Thanks be to God.