Third Saturday of Advent
Scripture Reading for Today:
Judges 13:2-24
2 In those days a man named Manoah from the tribe of Dan lived in the town of Zorah. His wife was unable to become pregnant, and they had no children. 3 The angel of the Lord appeared to Manoah’s wife and said, “Even though you have been unable to have children, you will soon become pregnant and give birth to a son. 4 So be careful; you must not drink wine or any other alcoholic drink nor eat any forbidden food. 5 You will become pregnant and give birth to a son, and his hair must never be cut. For he will be dedicated to God as a Nazirite from birth. He will begin to rescue Israel from the Philistines.” 6 The woman ran and told her husband, “A man of God appeared to me! He looked like one of God’s angels, terrifying to see. I didn’t ask where he was from, and he didn’t tell me his name. 7 But he told me, ‘You will become pregnant and give birth to a son. You must not drink wine or any other alcoholic drink nor eat any forbidden food. For your son will be dedicated to God as a Nazirite from the moment of his birth until the day of his death.’” 8 Then Manoah prayed to the Lord, saying, “Lord, please let the man of God come back to us again and give us more instructions about this son who is to be born.” 9 God answered Manoah’s prayer, and the angel of God appeared once again to his wife as she was sitting in the field. But her husband, Manoah, was not with her. 10 So she quickly ran and told her husband, “The man who appeared to me the other day is here again!” 11 Manoah ran back with his wife and asked, “Are you the man who spoke to my wife the other day?” “Yes,” he replied, “I am.” 12 So Manoah asked him, “When your words come true, what kind of rules should govern the boy’s life and work?” 13 The angel of the Lord replied, “Be sure your wife follows the instructions I gave her. 14 She must not eat grapes or raisins, drink wine or any other alcoholic drink, or eat any forbidden food.” 15 Then Manoah said to the angel of the Lord, “Please stay here until we can prepare a young goat for you to eat.” 16 “I will stay,” the angel of the Lord replied, “but I will not eat anything. However, you may prepare a burnt offering as a sacrifice to the Lord.” (Manoah didn’t realize it was the angel of the Lord.) 17 Then Manoah asked the angel of the Lord, “What is your name? For when all this comes true, we want to honor you.” 18 “Why do you ask my name?” the angel of the Lord replied. “It is too wonderful for you to understand.” 19 Then Manoah took a young goat and a grain offering and offered it on a rock as a sacrifice to the Lord. And as Manoah and his wife watched, the Lord did an amazing thing. 20 As the flames from the altar shot up toward the sky, the angel of the Lord ascended in the fire. When Manoah and his wife saw this, they fell with their faces to the ground. 21 The angel did not appear again to Manoah and his wife. Manoah finally realized it was the angel of the Lord, 22 and he said to his wife, “We will certainly die, for we have seen God!” 23 But his wife said, “If the Lord were going to kill us, he wouldn’t have accepted our burnt offering and grain offering. He wouldn’t have appeared to us and told us this wonderful thing and done these miracles.” 24 When her son was born, she named him Samson. And the Lord blessed him as he grew up.
Psalm 89:1-4
A psalm of Ethan the Ezrahite.1 I will sing of the Lord’s unfailing love forever! Young and old will hear of your faithfulness. 2 Your unfailing love will last forever. Your faithfulness is as enduring as the heavens. 3 The Lord said, “I have made a covenant with David, my chosen servant. I have sworn this oath to him: 4 ‘I will establish your descendants as kings forever; they will sit on your throne from now until eternity.’” Interlude
19 Long ago you spoke in a vision to your faithful people. You said, “I have raised up a warrior. I have selected him from the common people to be king. 20 I have found my servant David. I have anointed him with my holy oil. 21 I will steady him with my hand; with my powerful arm I will make him strong. 22 His enemies will not defeat him, nor will the wicked overpower him. 23 I will beat down his adversaries before him and destroy those who hate him. 24 My faithfulness and unfailing love will be with him, and by my authority he will grow in power. 25 I will extend his rule over the sea, his dominion over the rivers. 26 And he will call out to me, ‘You are my Father, my God, and the Rock of my salvation.’
John 7:40-52
Division and Unbelief40 When the crowds heard him say this, some of them declared, “Surely this man is the Prophet we’ve been expecting.” 41 Others said, “He is the Messiah.” Still others said, “But he can’t be! Will the Messiah come from Galilee? 42 For the Scriptures clearly state that the Messiah will be born of the royal line of David, in Bethlehem, the village where King David was born.” 43 So the crowd was divided about him. 44 Some even wanted him arrested, but no one laid a hand on him. 45 When the Temple guards returned without having arrested Jesus, the leading priests and Pharisees demanded, “Why didn’t you bring him in?” 46 “We have never heard anyone speak like this!” the guards responded. 47 “Have you been led astray, too?” the Pharisees mocked. 48 “Is there a single one of us rulers or Pharisees who believes in him? 49 This foolish crowd follows him, but they are ignorant of the law. God’s curse is on them!” 50 Then Nicodemus, the leader who had met with Jesus earlier, spoke up. 51 “Is it legal to convict a man before he is given a hearing?” he asked. 52 They replied, “Are you from Galilee, too? Search the Scriptures and see for yourself—no prophet ever comes from Galilee!”
New Living Translation (NLT)
Biblical Humanhood
by Jon Coutts
Jon Coutts lives in Calgary where he is Assistant Professor of Theology at Ambrose University. Prior to this he pastored churches in the Christian and Missionary Alliance and most recently taught ethics in England. He is the author of the SCM Studyguide to Church Leadership and of A Shared Mercy, a book on forgiveness in the church published with IVP.
When people talk about “biblical manhood” I think of Samson, the manly man. There he is, rolling out from under a Camaro, wrench in his teeth, sweat on his brow, oil stain on his bicep and, of course, glistens of divine approval on his mullet of biblical proportions. He is awesome. I am no Samson myself, but who doesn’t love a good Samson? To the degree that people like this model a strength and personality beloved by God, they are to be appreciated. My only problem is that the mantle of “biblical manhood” that gets placed on them is reductive and gender-exclusive; it makes normative what is really a matter of personality.
This is an interesting thing to reflect on as we read the birth narrative of Samson in the run-up to our celebration of the birth of Christ.
“You will conceive and bear a son,” says the divine messenger in Judges 13:3 and, again later, in Luke 1:31. In that latter event, the virgin Mary is invited to bear the incarnate God into this world. The Spirit who breathed creation into being puts on the finishing touches by attaching it to divinity forever, first in a teenager’s womb. Centuries earlier in Judges, however, the miracle is not incarnation but healing. A couple has been dealing with infertility and the wife is about to become pregnant.
But there is more than physical healing in this story. Something social and spiritual is going on as well. The son to be born will take a vow of obedience to God – marked by abstinence from wine and haircuts – from which his strength will come. It will appear that his strength comes from his long hair and bulging muscles themselves, but Samson and his parents will know it comes from God. Later, when Samson’s saga is a train wreck, and all he wants is death, even though his hair has grown back he still prays for that one last feat of strength.
This is the secret that Judges has been letting us in on. Whenever God sends Israel a liberator from oppression it is an unlikely one. Until Samson. Samson fits the part. It will be tempting for Israel to forget that God is their rescue – just as their forgetfulness of God got them into this mess in the first place – especially when the strength appears to have swung back in their favour.
This is not the place to delve into Samson’s saga, except to anticipate where this story is going: God will prove faithful to the vow of obedience even after Samson has not. As Psalm 89 attests, even when we are faithful, everything depends on the faithfulness of God. As Jesus revealed, the secret to biblical humanhood is the particularity of obedience to God.
If we go back to the story of Samson’s parents, we see hints of a healing that is not only physical but social as well. The social healing will not come to bloom until the promise to Mary, but in retrospect, we see the seeds planted in ages past. To see it we have to have an eye for comedy. If Judges were a movie it would be directed by the Coen brothers.
Notice how the story begins: with the name of its leading man. Manoah. His wife is never named. This is typical of the male-pattern narratives of ancient times. But that is when it gets satirical. The angel arrives with news, and only addresses the woman. It is like the angels remember Eden, where the man was given Tree instructions and did a poor job passing them on. In this case, the angel comes to the woman, making a covenant that will lead to Israel’s liberation. “You shall conceive and bear a son.” Just keep him from wine and razors, and God “will begin to deliver Israel from the Philistines” through him.
As it goes, the unnamed woman relays the message to Manoah and, funnily enough, he does not believe her. He asks God for a mansplanation. And God, being merciful, condescends to give him one. But God, being hilarious, sends the message through the woman again. This time Manoah overhears and takes over. But God, still with that sense of humour, repeats the instructions in a way that asserts the woman’s agency. “She is not to drink wine.” She will be the one entrusted to bear forward the vital vow. Manoah insists on having the angel over for dinner and, with one last joke, the angel slips free of his power games and ascends in a flame of the fire.
Manoah figures they are going to die, but it is his wife who interprets correctly. “The woman bore a son, and named him Samson. The boy grew, and the Lord blessed him.” When Samson’s vow goes off the rails it is after he is out from his mother’s care. She keeps her end of the covenant and is a sign of the healing power of God. In a patriarchal setting, where infertility makes her vulnerable to scorn and starvation, divine dignity has been afforded to this woman whom history only remembers as Samson’s mom. Mary picks up her baton in this regard, but there’s a blossom of social healing in the fact that we know her name and recite her song.
This advent I am thinking about how Jesus fulfils human faithfulness for us, but also about how his parents serve as examples as well. Joseph is no slouch here either. He is actually reminiscent of Manoah who, for all his comic blunders, did give support to his family’s vow.
We do not see much of Joseph in Jesus’ story, but there’s good reason to let him widen our perspective on what it might take to follow suit. There’s a reflection on this in Natalie Carnes’ Motherhood: A Confession – a wonderful book released this year. In it, she reflects on the time Jesus’ parents lost track of him and, once they found him in the Temple, he said: didn’t you know I’d be in my Father’s house? Carnes writes:
Did that reply sting Joseph?… He provides for a holy family from which he is, in some sense, estranged; he has not the flesh-and-blood connection to the God-child his wife does.… His own proximity to divinity is not so intimate as his wife’s; his claim to the family is more open to question. Mary’s yes … is often celebrated as a moment of supreme obedience, but what of Joseph’s silent assent... what of Joseph’s humbler, quotidian sacrifice? I think Joseph must have been a man who knew how to open up his desires toward God’s call into the unknown. In submitting to the superiority of Mary’s calling, by taking her as his wife, Joseph is revered as a saint.[1]
This is biblical humanhood: in all strength and in our weakness to follow Christ in the obedience of God. In Samson’s birth narrative we see a foreshadowing of Christ’s, and from these parents, there is much to learn.
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Read previous Advent Reader posts:
Joy to the world!
It might be a cold and broken hallelujah, but it's a hallelujah nonetheless.
We made it.
Despite the backdrop of injustice, the broken, decay, unlikely and at times discouraging spaces the people find themselves in, the prophets echo the sentiment of Isaiah 9 more often than we may recall: “The people who walk in darkness will see a great light. For those who live in a land of deep darkness a light will shine.”
A pandemic is an interesting time to have health care workers in your life, as I do. In normal times, I expect to hear stories of sick people and families struggling with loved ones’ illnesses. But what I did not expect during this time are the constant stories of stress and anxiety. Working in health care is always stressful. But this year’s pandemic has accentuated many of these stresses..
Sometimes the most profound truths come to us from humble teachers. A few years ago, after a particularly difficult day at work, I bought myself a small potted plant as a pick-me-up (I know, I know - emotional spending, but never mind that now)..
Two thousand years of patriarchy have undoubtedly diminished the powerful words of the two women in our readings. Today we will centre one, a voice that comes to us in the form of a song…
When I hear the word home, I find myself flooded with memory and meaning. I see the familiarity of shoes scattered over mats in the garage of my childhood, smell buns baking on busy Saturday mornings, feel the pulls and aches of being misunderstood and simultaneously cherished…
When people talk about “biblical manhood” I think of Samson, the manly man. There he is, rolling out from under a Camaro, wrench in his teeth, sweat on his brow, oil stain on his bicep and, of course, glistens of divine approval on his mullet of biblical proportions. He is awesome…
For the past few months, I’ve had the privilege of being a part of the New Leaf Network Design Shop, the online edition. While moving the event online had some limitations, it did allow us to have English-to-French translation provided in realtime for our Francophone participants. It was a sight to behold watching our skilled translators work so hard to keep up, and by all accounts, they did an excellent job…
Advent. Waiting for God to come close. Our passages today remind us that our God is an intimate God. He likes close proximity to us…
Three hundred hand-folded origami butterflies, tenderly wrapped in torn sheet cocoons, threaded onto fishing line and hung across our sanctuary. An art installation to kick off lent, a reminder that in the darkness, in our proverbial piles of goo, in the waiting, God cocoons us in his hands, transforming us with her grace. The big reveal was to come Easter Sunday morning. Our church family would enter the sanctuary and be met with the bright colourfulness of 300 butterflies soaring above them. The waiting over, the tattered cocoons lying at their feet, the transformation complete. But that day has yet to come.
“Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD. Lord hear my voice…”
The psalmist pens a cry universal to our experience. Perhaps, the deep longing strikes a more poignant and universal chord during this year of pandemic disruption and, often unwelcome, change…
I am a neighbourhood pastor. Some days I am not sure what that means. Pastors who see their pulpit as their home base have a focus for their week. They know what to get on about. Other pastors who see their programs and leadership as their passion have their work before them…
When the news of the national security bill had indeed been passed in Hong Kong, my stomach dropped through the floor. The last few months had already had me on tenterhooks, a low thrum of tension and scraped nerves—through the protests and the violence and the thought of home in such utter crisis…
Not long ago, I was asked to do a devotional for a group of young people just coming off a year-long intensive mission program. What to say? I remember that kind of transition in my own life as a student, and how hard it was to switch from mission life to “normal” life. And my mind went to a conversation I once had with my wife about Lord of the Rings…
“YHWH, do something!” Habakkuk does not mince his words when he presents his complaints before God. As he watches Judah implode from injustice and immorality, he cries out to God with urgency and desperation…
I was standing in a church basement on a cold winter day in Edmonton when I received one of the most honest compliments of my life. “Overall, you’re not an a**hole." I mean, does it get any better than that?
The subtle invitation of the readings for this second Tuesday of Advent is to “listen.” But, to listen on a Tuesday? Tuesday is a day of the week that finds us in full activity. It is not Monday when we start the week and plan for the days to come. It is not a Wednesday or Thursday when we are in the middle of the week to see how we are doing. Finally, it is not a Saturday or a Sunday where we evaluate the week, we give thanks, and we recover. It is simply a Tuesday. In any event, today's readings invite us to “listen.”
Over the summer, my wife and I decided to have our kitchen renovated. The old kitchen had been around for over 3 decades (which actually meant it was older than my wife!) and it was in huge need of a makeover…
Twice a year, spring and fall, in most parts of our country, we change our clocks one hour either ahead or back depending on the time of year. Sometimes regardless of the reminders from friends, the media, we forget. Several years ago, when I had just moved to Fort Frances I was on the schedule to lead the early worship service at 9:00 am…
In the Advent season, we remember that Jesus came from Heaven to live on earth, and we anticipate his imminent return. But what we should also do is reflect on what Jesus’ coming has to do with our lives today. Do we know who Jesus is and what He is doing among us? How can we faithfully participate in His work on earth?
When the news of the national security bill had indeed been passed in Hong Kong, my stomach dropped through the floor. The last few months had already had me on tenterhooks, a low thrum of tension and scraped nerves—through the protests and the violence and the thought of home in such utter crisis…
As I write this we have a big appointment for someone in my house tomorrow. It’s a medical appointment that we’ve been waiting on for more than a year and a half. There’s a lot riding on it, and there’s no way to know whether it will be helpful or unhelpful….
Last year I burned out. Before the world hit a pandemic pause, my own world halted. Looking back, I can see now that disruption was a gift to me. But at the time I only felt exhausted.
I’ve always been a little afraid of the second coming of Christ. There’s a lot of good things in the world and there were so many things I wanted to experience before we were all “whisked away to that spirit in the sky.”
As I approach Christmas this year it is with a certain resignation. I want to plan. I want to be scrolling through advent liturgies for the kids to read Sunday mornings as our tiny church family joins to light the candles on the advent wreath.
Isaiah's very powerful and poignant plea to God to split the sky, shake the earth, and settle the score is such an earthy and familiar request.
I’ve been there. Often.
Welcome to the third annual New Leaf Advent Reader. We are so glad you are here with us to journey through Advent while reflecting on change and disruption.
Explore last year’s Advent Reader:
Dear Advent readers,
Thank you so much for going on this Advent journey through scripture and reflections with us…..
I lost hope this Christmas season.
I didn’t mean to, in fact, I’m not even sure where exactly I lost it.
But lo and behold, somewhere between the eggnog and the garland, I slowed down enough to realize my trusty sense of “all manner of things shall be well” had gone missing. Had I misplaced it? Did it disappear forever?…
At the conclusion of this Advent season, I wonder how many times you have thought of Christmas as the opportunity to live free from idols?…
Our second son was born mid-January, and the December before he arrived was a Christmas season like no other. I grew up familiar with the contours of the Christmas Story: the stable, angels, shepherds and wisemen. I’ve heard (and preached) many sermons about the miracle and wonder of it all, God-with-us!
But that Christmas was something special.
My children are heavy in my lap, three and six years old, cozy on our couch watching televised British people bake. These children snuggle into me. Their heads smell of shampoo and the faint sweaty sweetness of outdoor play in toques….
The strong was made vulnerable, made helpless, made refugee, and made all with the authority and the backing of the God of the universe. The King is coming, and sometimes the hope of the coming King catches my breath and all time around me stops….
Christmas was perhaps one of the more magical times of year when I was young. It was particularly special for my mom. Every year she would decorate the house inside & out like she was from the Griswold family….
In the early morning hours post-election of the now famed, Donald Trump, I held my then 8-month-old in distress. What kind of world had I brought a child into?…
Have you ever had something you needed to say, but your body refused to say it?
When I think about silence and speech in the Christmas story, I remember the priest Zechariah, whose ability to speak was removed by the angel Gabriel until after his son, John the Baptist, was born. How ironic,…
Today’s reflection is based on Jude, that tiny one-chapter letter in the New Testament we mostly skip over to get to the metaphorical circus of Revelation. This is fitting, however, because Jude was a Holy Fool.…
If you grew up in pretty much any part of the church in the 1980s or after, you probably have memories of the almost-acceptably-cheesy praise song “As The Deer” which is based on one of our readings for today – Psalm 42..…
Today, as I read Isaiah 35, I thought of a few things. I found myself remembering the actions of an old Sunday School song we used to sing using the words of these verses – miming putting a crown on our heads, making motions of sweeping as we talked about sadness and joy fleeing away, and giggling as we would sweep our hands towards the friends around us, turning the song into a game...…
In the past, when Advent approached, it was a mix of Christmas songs, carols, Santa Claus parades, Christmas card exchanges, workplace dinners, and gift exchanges. Along with volunteering with The Salvation Army, Christmas light drives at night, church musical outreaches, and children’s school holiday concerts. I’m already tired just thinking about it.
It’s always the fire, isn’t it? As a young lad, I would spend an hour every week stuck in a church pew without a kids program or snack bag to comfort me. Perhaps it was here that I first heard…
The Christmas Eve candlelight service is about to begin. After a day of unsuccessfully trying to avoid meltdowns from over-excited kids, running to the store for one last bag of milk, and racking your brain to remember where on earth you stashed those gifts you bought back in August, you sink wearily into the pew.
Reading Scripture can be tricky. I think we often fall into a trap when we read about the lives of our spiritual fore-parents. We sit in our comfortable armchairs with our leather-bound book filled with crisp, white pages and wonder to ourselves how “they” could be so foolish and unfaithful. Of course, if we could put ourselves in their places we would know how gritty and difficult their faith journeys actually were.
When we scroll through social media for the 18th time, or listen to the latest news events, it’s often draining. The world sounds like a mess with no end in sight and we–WE–are a part of it. The messy part.
When we scroll through social media for the 18th time, or listen to the latest news events, it’s often draining. The world sounds like a mess with no end in sight and we–WE–are a part of it. The messy part.
I grew up in a congregation with a deep love of choral music. For many years, I joined the men’s choir to sing at the Christmas Eve Candlelight service because I always looked forward to singing Es ist ein Ros’ entsprugen (Lo, How a Rose e’er Blooming) in four-part male harmony.
The first theologian who introduced me to the concept of Advent being something other than an effervescent, sparkling, anticipation-filled countdown to Christmas, was the Rev. Fleming Rutledge. As I watched a recording of her declaring ”The significance of the birth of Jesus Christ will forever elude us if we are unable to take an inventory of the gravity of the human condition”, something in me said a quiet yes.
I hadn’t been home for Christmas in five years.
It was December 23, 2008, and I vibrated with excitement as we exited our car in the Orlando Airport parking garage. My husband was wrestling luggage from the trunk as I unstrapped our toddler from his car seat. In just a few short hours, this little guy would be spending Christmas with his grandparents for the very first time.
The liturgical season of Advent is a space where the mixed emotions of longing and grief are given space to sit in tension. In contrast to the “Christmas season” filled with Christmas parties, one more gift exchange to buy a gift for, hunting for the most desired gift on a child’s wishlist and preparing far more food than is good for many of us. Creating space for the tension between what we long for and the struggles that are immediately before us is a delicate task.
In the Christian tradition, Advent is a season of great hope and possibility. God has come to dwell among human beings, setting in motion something new and mysterious – the kingdom of heaven emerging in our earthly dimension.
“I don’t know, but they did it. They’ve done it before and they did it tonight and they’ll do it again and when they do it—seems that only children weep,” I hear these words spoken from the backstage, where I stand, waiting in the wings for my next cue. I watch Marie, who is playing Scout Finch lean her head against Atticus, and I see the shine of tears in the eyes of the audience in the first row. Tonight, as with each previous performance, we all weep. The story doesn’t end as we expect; it’s all gone terribly wrong.
In the sparkly season of Christmas, I often feel out of sync when life is stressful or dark or just full of emotions. I know that Christmas can be full of happiness for many people, but sometimes I just feel the pressure to do Christmas “right” when I can’t muster up the requisite joy on my own.
Today’s reading in Isaiah is such a clear picture of a world I want to be a part of. Isaiah invites us to imagine a future in which God’s reign is at the centre of our world. A future where God’s judgment, true and just, begins to settle the disputes of many peoples.
Tomorrow is the beginning of Advent. Here on the New Leaf Blog, we are going to be journeying through Advent together with writers from across Canada. The New Leaf Network is a Canadian network spread across this northern country.