Get you up to a high mountain,
O Zion, herald of good tidings;
lift up your voice with strength,
O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings,
lift it up, do not fear;
say to the cities of Judah,
“Here is your God!” {Isaiah}
The prophet’s words on the opening days of Advent gave the body an alarming jolt. Anger and indignation. Disillusionment and fatigue. These are not revelations I expect to find printed on any of the holiday cards or included in any of the annual Christmas letters that will soon cover our kitchen blackboard. Advent leads us to joy, but first it reckons with the grief. And we’ve had more than a small share of grief in recent weeks, haven’t we? There are moments when I do wonder whether we will make it, whether this old world might not just release a final, death-rattle gasp and release us into the dark.
But the prophet who weeps is also the prophet who refuses to surrender hope. Isaiah, after the tears and the sorrows have their proper say, kneels beside the haggard woman, the broke-down man. Isaiah drapes his arm around weary shoulders and whispers into tired ears, Get up, now. Get up. This is not where it ends. We have work to do. And the work is to announce good tidings.
When the time has come (and only then – but absolutely then), we dry our tears. We shake the soot and the ashes from our head and our heart. We grab the weathered hands of those around us, and we sing. Our shaky voices unite in a happy song of protest and faith. We drench the cold night with a melody that heralds our stubborn insistence: We are not forgotten. Here is our God!
As God’s people, we weep and mourn over the world’s travails, over our own regrets and sadness. We do not peddle false fantasies. However, far more, we are belligerent in hope. We sing the glad song with tenacious, raspy voices. We cry into the dark. It is not only angels who bring good tidings of great joy. This work is ours as well. So, we lift up our hearts. And we sing.
>>
Each Monday during Advent, John Blase, Kelly Hausknecht Chripczuk and I reflect on the same Advent text from the week’s lectionary. This week, it’s Isaiah 40:1-11.
A true word for me this day. Thanks.
Thanks for this. A good, convicting follow-up after my lament today…it appears I’m being led in the right direction…
Winn,
I’m glad you mentioned the joy after grief…but first the grief…Thank you.
“the prophet who weeps is also the prophet who refuses to surrender hope.”
I don’t know if you’re talking about prophets in general here or Isaiah in particular, but this line catches me and encourages.
“Belligerent in hope”… I love seeing our very human emotions work their way into our responses to God. You’re right: it’s one thing to write hope and peace on a Christmas card and send it out all it’s shiny glory – it’s entirely another to lift our angry, our broken, our weary souls and sing.
Love this, Winn. And we are connecting to the same wavelength today, I think. The first in a 4-part series I’m doing with Kelley Nikondeha is up over at SheLoves today. Series title? “Advent Ache.” Subject matter? Our need for lament in the midst of all the tinsel. So thank you for this. A lot.
Belligerent in hope. Yes.