Gloria Dei Lutheran Church

Texts: Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11, Psalm 126, 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24, John 1:6-8, 19-28

Dear Friends in Christ, God’s grace and peace be with you. Amen.

Lynda Blackmon Lowery was only 14 years old when she joined the Road to Freedom marching across Selma’s Edmund Pettus bridge[i]. Lynda was one of the many peaceful demonstrators brutally attacked as they marched for fair voting accessibility. It was 1965.

Lynda had already been to jail more than once by the time she crossed that bridge that day. Her mother had died years earlier, because the “Whites Only” hospital had refused to give her the blood she needed. Even as a child, Lynda determined to change the laws that allowed that to happen. And when she heard Dr. King preach, she was committed to join the movement following his instruction for “steady, loving confrontation.”

She was taught to expect opposition, but to not retaliate. “You’re going to jail,” the adults would explain. “Do not fight back. You might be pushed; you might be hit. Just turn the other cheek.”

It took courage, and as a 14-year-old, Lynda admits she didn’t always have it. She was scared. “It helped,” she later wrote, “when we sang, ‘We shall overcome.’ Every time I sang the line, ‘We are not afraid,’ I lied a little, but it was important to sing it…. We sang it to let everyone know: We were on our way[ii].”

In spite of the injuries she suffered on “Bloody Sunday,” Lynda returned a few days later. She was the youngest participant allowed to march all the way to Montgomery. Along with John Lewis, Dr. King, and hundreds from her community, the Freedom March participants were inspired to work for change simply because they believed the message of equality on which our country was founded. Knowing that all people really were created equal, they embodied the hope that America promised them, and claimed a future that included them too, even if they faced a dangerous path to realize it.

Advent is built on that kind of conviction. Trusting that God’s promises are sure, we dare to live into the future. We dare to cross the bridge, to make way for God’s justice and goodness to be born, to declare good news to the oppressed, and to bind up the brokenhearted, even when facing great odds. Advent calls us to embody a hope that will repair the ruined cities, and to live as if righteousness can spring up on the earth[iii].

From the outside, it must look ridiculous. We celebrate peace on earth, knowing that the world is at war. We tell of goodwill to all, knowing that migrants are turned away at the borders, and families are sleeping in the backseats of cars. We proclaim that heaven and nature sing, while the climate languishes, animals can’t find safe habitats, and plastics clog our oceans.

We over-eat, over-shop, over-consumer, over-decorate, knowing all the while, that none of this has anything to do with the real reason we’re celebrating. How do we make sense of the good news we long to celebrate in the midst of such pain and the seemingly saccharine denial of that pain?

Rev. Sue Lodge-Calvert describes the Radical Hope of Advent. “To believe, or even to want to believe, the promises of (the) Scriptures is a radical act of hope and defiant faithfulness…

“On the one hand to deeply acknowledge the reality of our present world – the hunger and the harm, the devastation and the despair–and to also hold in our hearts and imaginations the world that the prophet Isaiah speaks of.

“It is not one or the other but both truths. And maybe even more importantly is to see the shoots of the promised world in this one even now[iv].”

This is how John the Baptizer lived[v]: not denying the oppressive powers of empire that threatened him, nor basking in glory that others wanted to shower upon him, but rather pointing to the love and justice of God’s coming reign, and trusting that God’s ancient promises would be realized in the world today[vi].

Maybe it helped him to sing the ancient prophet’s song, Make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

We, as Advent people, must hold on to that hope more strongly than ever, when so many are weary of waiting for it. We trust so deeply in God’s plan to repair the ruined cities that we work to start those repairs today. [vii]

And perhaps most audaciously of all, we get to hold onto that hope with joy. The letter to the Thessalonians, encourages us to rejoice always, to give thanks in all circumstances[viii]. Remember those “circumstances” weren’t necessarily rosy holiday seasons for those first followers of Jesus. Like John the Baptizer, like Jesus himself, the writer of the letter to the Thessalonians’ life was often threatened. Paul spent time in prison for preaching his message, and was said to have been martyred for his faith.

And yet, he urges us to rejoice, to give thanks, to hold on to all that is good. In spite of the risk, in spite of the loss, in spite of the setbacks, we live as if God’s future is sure, and celebrate the reality it promises.

I sense an Advent spirit in our midst at Gloria Dei. We mourn the violence persisting in Israel and Palestine, in Ukraine, in so many parts of Africa, and we come together each Wednesday evening of the season, to light candles, and pray for peace.

We lament the ongoing power of racism around us, and we invest in work done by tribal communities in our city. We acknowledge the risks of our dependence on fossil fuels, and we explore the ways we could transition to geothermal heating and cooling systems.

We mourn those whom we have lost this year; we worry over ominous diagnoses we have received, and we sing for joy. We recognize the struggle so many have in finding connections and community, and we welcome asylum seekers, and advocate for affordable housing. We celebrate a sanctuary renovation, and call two new staff people to join us as we make plans for a new year of vibrant ministry.

We are not intimidated by the challenges we face, because we are claimed by a God who keeps on rising from the dead, and who keeps calling us to live too.

Advent invites us both to celebrate and to work so that real Christmas joy can be realized by all.

It helps when we sing. As it did for Lynda Blackmon Lowery, singing gives us courage to march, to respond to challenges with “steady, loving confrontation,” and in all circumstances, to reflect God’s light into the world.

It may look ridiculous from the outside, but Advent people trust God’s promises are sure. And we are not afraid. As the old song still reminds us.

We are not afraid, We are not afraid today.

Oh, Deep in our hearts, I do believe.

We shall overcome some day.

[i] https://www.history.com/news/selma-bloody-sunday-attack-civil-rights-movement

[ii] Lynda Blackmon Lowery, as told to Elspeth Leacock and Susan Buckley, Turning 15 on the Road to Freedom:  My Story of the 1965 Selma Voting Rights March, © Dial; Books by Penguin Group, New York, 2015, p. 35.

[iii] Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11.

[iv] Sue Lodge-Calvert, Companions on the Way, Advent Three B: Radical Hope, https://www.companionsontheway.com/post/advent-three-radical-hope

[v] John 1:6-8, 19-28

[vi] Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11

[vii] Lodge-Calvert, op. cit.

[viii] 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24, echoing Isaiah 61:10, and Psalm 126:2