Commentary on Lectionary for December 19, 2010

Fourth Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 7:10-16; Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19; Romans 1:1-17; Matthew 1:18-24

You can imagine one of the prophets or the person who wrote Psalm 80 getting out of bed (whatever ‘bed’ meant in those days) and looking around perhaps at a whirling sandstorm, then remembering that the Assyrians were already killing people and kidnapping others, and you can imagine that person looking up at the sky and saying: “God, where are you? You promised! You planted this strong and wonderful vine called Israel and now you are NOT taking care of it! Where are you?”

All of us can imagine ourselves doing and saying the same thing in our own version of sandstorms and threatening attacks. Maybe accusing God of being a bad gardener is healthier than giving in to severe depression and giving up, as if there WERE no God.

Maybe we should ask for a sign…or pray to recognize a sign that has already been given. In the Isaiah reading, Ahaz did not want to ask for a sign because he had already made up his mind and decided what he was going to do—and it did not include God. Ahaz was going to ally himself with the enemy, the Assyrians who were already destroying the northern kingdom and eventually would conquer Samaria in 722 BCE.

God gave him a sign: a young woman would bear a child and call him Immanuel, which means God is with us! In other words, God was saying to Ahaz: You do not NEED the Assyrians. You just need to recognize and have confidence in the presence of God.

Joseph, Mary’s husband, got it. Maybe he needed a message from an angel in a dream, but he ended up trusting enough to take an unmarried pregnant woman as his wife.

It is very difficult for us to crawl out from under the covers each day and watch the morning’s news and find God in any of it. The meeting of God with reality, with day to day ‘stuff,’ is rarely perceived and believed. Those who profess to perceive His presence are often on the edge of sanity themselves and prone to make outlandish statements concerning what God is telling them to do.

We need a sign to discern whether our perception of Immanuel is true or false, real or fanatical. Many “saints” –like Paul--throughout the ages have pointed to peace and a quiet joy as being two of those signs. The surface of life may be chaotic and violent; the depths are still and silent. I think such saints have had their times of yelling at God, accusing Him of desertion, but have come to this desert place, this place of presence which often feels like absence. Perhaps it is best called a space, a space in which He dwells, God with us.