Isaiah 11:1-10; Matthew 3:1-6
Is there going to be anything new in your Christmas celebration this year? I don’t believe the old saying that “there is nothing new under the sun,” but I have a suspicion that new growth may well come out of old stumps.
The prophet Isaiah knew about “old stumps.” He saw the destruction of Israel at the hands of Assyria in 722 B.C., scattering whatever survivors there were to the ends of the empire. He then lived in the shadow of the threat that this most barbaric of all ancient powers would do the same thing to his tiny nation of Judah and its capitol Jerusalem. In the face of this threat and desolation all around, the prophet spoke for God: “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.”
I think what the prophet Isaiah meant was that something new was going to come out of the old stump of David’s kingdom. Jesse was David’s father. David’s kingdom ended after his son Solomon’s death and the split of their empire into the two small nations of Judah and Israel. Although the two nations had their own kings, they were too small and weak to defend themselves against their more powerful neighbors, like Assyria and Babylonia. What the prophet saw is that out of the old dead stump of David’s empire will come something new, not just something but also “someone.”
Whether Isaiah is speaking about a king just coming to power, like Hezekiah, or perhaps speaking words written for the inauguration of such a king, is not clear. It may also be that this is Isaiah’s vision for a king in some unspecified future who would embody the Davidic royal ideal. Eight hundred years later followers of Jesus would see in Isaiah’s words a foretelling of Jesus’ coming. In either case, something new was coming from something old.
In the Gospel of Mathew, John the Baptist, like Isaiah, believed that something new was happening: the kingdom of God was coming near. It was John’s role to prepare the way by calling people to repent, or “turn around”, to pay attention to the new thing that was about to happen in history.
Can there be anything “new”? The people of Israel came to being in a world that was locked into a circular view of history, a view of life in which there was never anything new but just a recycled part of the past. The future would necessarily be a repetition of the past. In this world even gods couldn't do anything new. This worldview of endless cycles was not just in the Middle East, but worldwide. If we are to believe Thomas Cahill in his book, The Gifts of the Jews: How a Tribe of Desert Nomads Changed the Way Everyone Thinks and Feels, we and the rest of the world are in debt to the Jews for the concept of “new.” The God we worship is a God who does new things in history. Because of that, the future is not predetermined, but open to new possibilities.
The question about new possibilities is not so much a question about God as it is about us. In this season of Advent God seeks to break through our jaded and cynical spirits to remind us that NEW is possible; and we may be in special need of that word in this season as we approach Christmas.
Is there going to be anything new in your Christmas celebration this year? I don’t believe the old saying that “there is nothing new under the sun,” but I have a suspicion that new growth may well come out of old stumps.
The prophet Isaiah knew about “old stumps.” He saw the destruction of Israel at the hands of Assyria in 722 B.C., scattering whatever survivors there were to the ends of the empire. He then lived in the shadow of the threat that this most barbaric of all ancient powers would do the same thing to his tiny nation of Judah and its capitol Jerusalem. In the face of this threat and desolation all around, the prophet spoke for God: “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.”
I think what the prophet Isaiah meant was that something new was going to come out of the old stump of David’s kingdom. Jesse was David’s father. David’s kingdom ended after his son Solomon’s death and the split of their empire into the two small nations of Judah and Israel. Although the two nations had their own kings, they were too small and weak to defend themselves against their more powerful neighbors, like Assyria and Babylonia. What the prophet saw is that out of the old dead stump of David’s empire will come something new, not just something but also “someone.”
Whether Isaiah is speaking about a king just coming to power, like Hezekiah, or perhaps speaking words written for the inauguration of such a king, is not clear. It may also be that this is Isaiah’s vision for a king in some unspecified future who would embody the Davidic royal ideal. Eight hundred years later followers of Jesus would see in Isaiah’s words a foretelling of Jesus’ coming. In either case, something new was coming from something old.
In the Gospel of Mathew, John the Baptist, like Isaiah, believed that something new was happening: the kingdom of God was coming near. It was John’s role to prepare the way by calling people to repent, or “turn around”, to pay attention to the new thing that was about to happen in history.
Can there be anything “new”? The people of Israel came to being in a world that was locked into a circular view of history, a view of life in which there was never anything new but just a recycled part of the past. The future would necessarily be a repetition of the past. In this world even gods couldn't do anything new. This worldview of endless cycles was not just in the Middle East, but worldwide. If we are to believe Thomas Cahill in his book, The Gifts of the Jews: How a Tribe of Desert Nomads Changed the Way Everyone Thinks and Feels, we and the rest of the world are in debt to the Jews for the concept of “new.” The God we worship is a God who does new things in history. Because of that, the future is not predetermined, but open to new possibilities.
The question about new possibilities is not so much a question about God as it is about us. In this season of Advent God seeks to break through our jaded and cynical spirits to remind us that NEW is possible; and we may be in special need of that word in this season as we approach Christmas.
If we are to believe Isaiah, the new does not just come out of the blue, but it comes out of the old. I would like to suggest that there are some old stumps in our Christmas traditions from which new growth is appearing, if we have the eyes to see.
The first old stump is our gift-giving tradition. Christmas is about giving; we remember with gratitude God’s great gift to us in Jesus Christ. The Magi brought gifts to give to the Christ Child. Gifts are ways we express love to one another. But in our society, I wonder if our practices have not become old stumps that need new growth. Given human nature and the commercialization of Christmas, "getting" sometimes seems more important than "giving," and giving to "our own" sometimes has more importance than giving to the one whose birthday we celebrate. Our practices of gift giving have also been affected by consumerism. As even The Amy Vanderbilt Complete Book of Etiquette recognizes, "Today, in our materialistic society, the custom [of gift-giving] has grown to exaggerated absurdity...." I suggest that “exaggerated absurdity” might be the name for this stump: giving gifts that aren’t really needed; gifts that are given out of obligation instead of love; giving gifts that harm the environment, giving gifts that we cannot afford, etc. The list can go on and on. Is anything new possible, or are we forever locked into an old way of doing things?
Many people are discovering that genuinely needed gifts are ways to express love and caring. For that “person who has everything,” which is a euphemism for people who have more than enough and that includes a lot of us, an appropriate gift is a contribution to a good cause honoring the recipient and the one who’s birth we celebrate on December 25th. In one family I know well, the adult children are all receiving shares in scholarship for a young woman in Uganda in training to become a nurse. She wouldn’t be in school without it. The scholarship is in the form of a loan to be paid back and held for a future similar loan. Could it be that changing our gift-giving practices are new growth from an old stump?
What would happen if you talked with your larger family about doing something like this? You might be surprised. I can almost guarantee two different responses from different family members. First, there will be one who says that there shouldn’t be any change in “the way we’ve always done it.” But second, there will be one who says “Why haven’t we considered this before?” Are there any new shoots coming out of the old stumps of your gift giving traditions?
The second old stump is our Santa Claus tradition. Can anything new come out of that old stump? That tradition began with Saint Nicholas. Little is known about him except that he was the Bishop of Myra, in present-day Turkey, in the fourth century. Of the many stories about this saint, one of the most popular tells about his generosity in giving gifts anonymously to the poor. According to the story, this young monk learned of a poor family who had no money for dowries for their three daughters. Without dowries the daughters could not marry and would have to be sold into slavery because the family couldn’t afford to feed them. Nicholas, so the story goes, learned about the families plight, took gold from the monastery where he lived, then dropped three bags down the chimney of the family’s home so the daughters would each have dowries. From this came the Christmas tradition of giving to those in need and giving gifts anonymously.
Is it possible that something new might come out of recovering this tradition with our children? Perhaps this story of St. Nicholas could be told again to our children, highlighting the importance of imitating St. Nicholas instead of simply waiting for gifts from Santa. Perhaps children could be involved in family decisions about special gifts that honor the one who's birthday we are celebrating. Are there any possibilities for “new growth” in the “old stump” of our Santa traditions? You might be surprised.
The third old stump I think about is our family gatherings at Christmas. Can anything new come out of that old stump? Gatherings with families and loved ones at Christmas can be renewing; they can also be depressing. Part of the problem is the unrealistic expectations we place on ourselves for these celebrations. After all, we are daily bombarded by the mass media with scenes of “blissful happiness” of families gathered for the holidays. I call it the “Happy Family Syndrome.” Even though we know life isn’t like that, under the bombardment we may measure our families’ behavior by these false images. Is the new growth to lower expectations of these occasions? Is it new growth to find new ways to gather and find ways to include in our celebrations persons who would otherwise be alone? You might be surprised.
This past summer we stopped for the night in Squamish, British Columbia (think “Men in Trees”) on our way to Alaska. We planned on waking up for an early start but we were waked up by noise outside in the park next to the motel. Tents were being erected and fires were being built under large black pots filled with oil. The women were dressed in saris and many of the men wore turbans. A contingent of twenty-five or thirty Indians were preparing for an annual holy day for their God. They were doing it by preparing all manner of Indian food that they would offer free to the townspeople all day.
When we were packing the car to get on the road, they invited us to come have some of the delicacies they were preparing. A group of women were cooking an Indian version of tempura in large black pots. They insisted that we take some of the goodies with us and filled a large paper plate to overflowing and gave us cups of hot sweet tea with milk. I asked one of the men if they were all from Squamish and he said they were. They intended to have some kind of ceremony at ten o’clock but for the most part they were celebrating their most holy day by offering wonderfully prepared food for the town. Such hospitality! I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if on one of our most holy days (Christmas Eve or Easter morning) we went to the center of town, prepared our most special foods, and serve them to the people where we live.
The fourth old stump is holiday busyness. Do you suppose the term “multi-tasking” was coined in the Christmas season? Being frantic having to do so many things at the same time, or at least be thinking about them, may be a cherished holiday tradition for some. Recent studies of multi-tasking suggest that the result is that few of the tasks are done well.
I wonder if this old stump may result in what Susan Monk Kidd has called “an attention deficit disorder of the soul.” The author of the bestselling novel, The Secret Life of Bees, (one of the best novels I have read in the past ten years), has just published First Light, some of her early inspirational writings. She tells about arriving at the airport in Atlanta in the midst of an ice storm. The airport shuts down and she has to find her way to a relative’s house on MARTA, the city rail system. As she comes closer to the end of the line she notices a middle age woman sitting across from her who is crying. She wipes tears with the back of her hand and gazes at Susan. “She’s asking for my attention. She wants me to fling open my heart and take her in. I feel sad for her, but what can I do? She’s carrying her troubles and I can’t fix them. My inhibitions rise sharply, then blend into tiredness, anxieties about the storm, disappointment about not getting home. I look away from her, retreating into the murmur of the train. Quietly, uncomfortably unavailable.”[1]
For the next two days, locked in away from home in the ice storm, she can think about little but the woman on the train. Even when the ice melts and she goes home, she can’t forget. One morning she comes on the words of the great Christian mystic, Mechtilde of Magdeburg:
“How should one live?
Live
Welcoming
to all.”
She decides to practice being utterly available to the one before her, whoever that might be. She calls it “mindful availability.” “When you sit with a crying woman on a train, just sit with her. Do it with all your mind and heart and soul. Be fully present to her without this other agenda going on at the sidelines. In other words, do it without passing judgment on her, wanting to convert her to your point of view, desiring her appreciation, wondering what others on the train might think, worrying about the weather, or getting caught up in one’s feelings, desires, and opinions of the moment. Do it the way Mary sat at the feet of Jesus—with an undivided heart.”[2]
Mindful availability is the new growth from an old stump that I want to nurture this season of Advent. How was it that some ancient in the 15th century put it in words translated from German:
Lo, how a Rose e'er blooming from tender stem hath sprung!
Of Jesse's lineage coming, as those of old have sung.
It came a floweret bright, amid the cold of winter,
when halfspent was the night.
This beautiful carol reminds me that God’s great gift to us was in the form of new growth from an old stump. Because God is a God who does new things in history, who brings new sprouts from dead wood, even life from death, I won’t be surprised to see new shoots even in the middle of the night in deep winter, even in the Christmas season. As we prepare to celebrate God’s gift, will you be watching and ready to nurture the new growth with which God is surely ready to surprise you?
[1] Susan Monk Kidd, First Light: The Early Inspirational Writings, (New York: Penguin Books, 2007) p. 48.
No comments:
Post a Comment