the Second Friday of Advent
Scripture Reading for Today:
Isaiah 12:2-6
2 Look, God is my deliverer! I will trust in him and not fear. For the Lord gives me strength and protects me; he has become my deliverer.” 3 Joyfully you will draw water from the springs of deliverance. 4 At that time you will say: “Praise the Lord! Ask him for help! Publicize his mighty acts among the nations. Make it known that he is unique. 5 Sing to the Lord, for he has done magnificent things; let this be known throughout the earth. 6 Cry out and shout for joy, O citizens of Zion, for the Holy One of Israel acts mightily among you!”
Amos 8:4-12
4 Hear this, you who trample the needy and do away with the poor of the land, 5 saying, “When will the New Moon be over that we may sell grain, and the Sabbath be ended that we may market wheat?”— skimping on the measure, boosting the price and cheating with dishonest scales, 6 buying the poor with silver and the needy for a pair of sandals, selling even the sweepings with the wheat. 7 The Lord has sworn by himself, the Pride of Jacob: “I will never forget anything they have done. 8 “Will not the land tremble for this, and all who live in it mourn? The whole land will rise like the Nile; it will be stirred up and then sink like the river of Egypt. 9 “In that day,” declares the Sovereign Lord, “I will make the sun go down at noon and darken the earth in broad daylight. 10 I will turn your religious festivals into mourning and all your singing into weeping. I will make all of you wear sackcloth and shave your heads. I will make that time like mourning for an only son and the end of it like a bitter day. 11 “The days are coming,” declares the Sovereign Lord, “when I will send a famine through the land— not a famine of food or a thirst for water, but a famine of hearing the words of the Lord. 12 People will stagger from sea to sea and wander from north to east, searching for the word of the Lord, but they will not find it.
2 Corinthians 9:1-15
1 There is no need for me to write to you about this service to the Lord’s people. 2 For I know your eagerness to help, and I have been boasting about it to the Macedonians, telling them that since last year you in Achaia were ready to give; and your enthusiasm has stirred most of them to action. 3 But I am sending the brothers in order that our boasting about you in this matter should not prove hollow, but that you may be ready, as I said you would be. 4 For if any Macedonians come with me and find you unprepared, we—not to say anything about you—would be ashamed of having been so confident. 5 So I thought it necessary to urge the brothers to visit you in advance and finish the arrangements for the generous gift you had promised. Then it will be ready as a generous gift, not as one grudgingly given. 6 Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously. 7 Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. 8 And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work. 9 As it is written: “They have freely scattered their gifts to the poor; their righteousness endures forever.” 10 Now he who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the harvest of your righteousness. 11 You will be enriched in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God. 12 This service that you perform is not only supplying the needs of the Lord’s people but is also overflowing in many expressions of thanks to God. 13 Because of the service by which you have proved yourselves, others will praise God for the obedience that accompanies your confession of the gospel of Christ, and for your generosity in sharing with them and with everyone else. 14 And in their prayers for you their hearts will go out to you, because of the surpassing grace God has given you. 15 Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!
NIV
Who invited Amos to the Christmas party??
Krista-Dawn Kimsey is incredibly grateful that her husband Joel and two teenage children put up with her hair-brained ideas on most days. Together, they live in one of the oldest homes still standing in Japantown, a historic neighbourhood of the Downtown Eastside on the unceded and occupied traditional land of the Musqueam, Tsleil-Waututh and Squamish people. She is fueled by coffee, creative pursuits, collaboration with friends, and a desire to experience more shalom in her life and her community. Along with her husband, she is an executive director of Servant Partners Canada, a non-profit that pursues holistic transformation of urban poor communities alongside their neighbours. Want to explore what that means in your city? Check out their Community Transformation Certificate next year.
“If you aren’t angry, you aren’t paying attention.” That’s been my favorite bumper sticker, and I just found it on a t-shirt for sale this Christmas. There’s a lot in this world and in myself to be outraged about this year; anger has been a great fuel to get out there, right some wrongs and feel a little more self-righteous along the way. We could easily create a seasonal Advent version of the t-shirt: “If you aren’t in tension, you aren’t paying attention.” For most of my adult life, I have experienced unbearable tensions as the details of God’s incarnation story are juxtaposed with the white North American and church cultural celebrations of Advent and Christmas.
Eleven years ago, my family and I moved to the Downtown Eastside (DTES) neighbourhood on the unceded and traditional lands of the Musqueam, the Squamish and the Tsleil-Waututh nations, also known as Vancouver. We made that move after I realized that my heart was quite far from God’s heart of justice for those experiencing poverty, those in crisis without a back-up plan, the refugees, the displaced, the meek, the ones who can be found in the alcoves and overhangs because there’s no room for them inside. In various roles in my non-profit work, I’ve studied the book of Amos almost yearly--yet I continue to cringe at my own complicity in Amos’ indictment of economic systems of affluence, political systems of oppression, and religious legitimation of the whole handbasket. I imagine if Amos was alive today, he might buy my Advent shirt and we could be twinsies. It’s rough being a prophet, delivering searing words that will make someone’s eyes water faster than a December wind chill in Saskatchewan. Personally, I’d think twice before inviting Amos to my Christmas party. He’d ask about the labour practices of the company that made my tablecloth.
The passage from Amos in today’s lectionary readings includes an oft-repeated theme of God's clear judgement on our propensity to separate our religious practices from our practices of daily life. Verse ten (“I will turn your religious festivals into mourning and all your singing into weeping”) is connected to God’s earlier statements: “I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them....Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream.” (Amos 5:21-24) God really doesn’t adopt the Canadian propensity to hedge our opinions in public on matters of injustice!
God’s beef with the Israelites at this time (pun intended, Albertans) was their greed and resultant unjust treatment of the poor. God’s festivals were cutting into profits, and Israel was the only people group who would stop trade and close markets for religious ceremonies. Lost opportunity! Israel’s economy was booming due to political stability, a new strategy of cash crops implemented, and the creation of a peasant class that was easily exploited to serve the nobility and merchant classes. The Israelites incorrectly interpreted prosperity and luxury as God’s favor and blessing. While they offered religious thanks to God according to the law, they did not connect their practice of worship to their practices of business and life. During the religious festivals and Sabbath days, the Israelites were throwing side glances at the clock and scheming how to make a little more profit. God’s laws were meant to maintain justice for all: legal impartiality, provision for gleaning, and extension of interest-free loans, plus the tenth commandment’s warning against coveting. But the Israelites were throwing in the husks of the wheat that they sold to the poor, in order to make more profit. They were enslaving people who could not pay unjust debts.
We can extrapolate to our own situation. What if God cares as much about who made the clothes we are wearing this Christmas, and how those workers were compensated, as he does about what we do in a worship service? While cooking our Christmas pot roast, we don’t want to be thinking about the labour practices that spread COVID among meat-packing employees.
It is sobering to think that God might reject our passionate chorus of “Joy to the World” and our sacrificial volunteer hours at church events, because of our unjust stewardship of the land on which our food was grown, or of how those labourers--whom we’ve never seen--were treated. How can we be joyful in the midst of Amos’ indictments? Whose idea was it to include this scripture in the lectionary right when Christians are kicking it into high gear to honour the birth of the Saviour with literal harps?
Perhaps a brief reflection on today’s other two lectionary passages can turn the tension knob down a notch after Amos turned it to eleven (yes, that’s a reference to “This is Spinal Tap.” I’m giving away my age.) Isaiah 12 is a song of praise to God. As we pursue justice, how can we find joy and courage by drawing from the well of God’s saving activity (Isaiah 12:3), rather than drawing from our own well of good intentions, or perceived “wokeness”? Isaiah offers praise based on God’s character and past evidence of God’s unconditional love. How might we adopt this posture as we pursue racial equity rather than getting our peace of mind from keeping a checklist (e.g., “Whew, I’ve done x,y and z to promote racial equity today.”)?
In 2 Corinthians 9, Paul applauds and encourages generosity. Where could his exhortation to “freely scatter (our) gifts to the poor” be a litmus test for our motivations (2 Cor. 9:9)? How could we go about doing justice this Advent season with a generous heart, rather than out of obligation, guilt or appeasement? What might we need to remember to enact mercy and justice from a confident assurance of God’s abundance for us all? How might grace invite more freedom for us this season?
For me, answers to these questions change dramatically from year to year. However, each year I feel the tension between stretching to do something really, really uncomfortable, and accepting that I am a limited human being rather than a saviour of the world. Reading Amos was a catalyst for moving into the DTES all those years ago, to live alongside, listen to, and learn from those who suffer under the oppression of many forms of poverty. Living here is not as much of an uncomfortable risk as it was eleven years ago. But today, on my block alone, eight of my neighbours live in their cars. This year, living generously and justly during Advent will mean extending my home and laundry room, and inviting still-strange neighbours to become my friends around the dinner table with my kids. It will require taking time to learn how my city is addressing the issue of a rising number of unaccounted-for homeless. Then I will need to decide how to advocate for safe housing for those who want it. I see so many people come to this neighbourhood in December with well meaning--and often necessary--charity, but the tension of unjust housing policies doesn’t get relieved by a new pair of socks. More just housing policies will take sustained efforts by many passionate people to effect the systemic change that is needed.
To reflect well on the tension of living justly during Advent, I need both quiet and time, which has meant that I don’t celebrate in all the ways I otherwise might. This year, the flooding in BC will shape how I spend my money, my time, my prayers, and my habits to address climate change. When shopping for gifts, I will keep in mind who makes the items, who profits from my purchases, and how the production and shipping of those items impact the planet. The tension I feel never goes away, but I’m grateful for Amos’ words that remind me of God’s passionate heart for justice and his desire for us, his people, to live our whole life (not just in Advent and not just in our worship) in surrender to our righteous and just Lord. If Amos were to join us for Christmas dinner, I imagine he would be the one to raise the toast we have become familiar with in recent years, which echoes Jesus’ words: “The truth shall set you free [John 8:32]--but first it will piss you off!”
Thank you for reading the New Leaf Advent Reader, a collection of reflections from writers across Canada. If you are enjoying the reader, sign up to receive the readings in your inbox each day here: SIGN UP
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Read previous Advent Reader posts:
As the scene opens, in Luke 2, there are no indications that tonight would be unlike any other night. The ones keeping watch are not an elite military unit or a secretive spy agency. Just an ordinary group of shepherds pulling another night shift.
I cannot remember a time in my life where I have heard the word peace more often than I have in the last few years. It seems everyone everywhere is longing and calling for peace.
Maybe you've heard it in the cries of Canadian protestors who took to the streets over police brutality, racism, and the uncovering of the unmarked graves of Indigenous children. "No justice, no peace"…
As I write this Advent devotional, my heart is heavy. Heavy with the weight and tension of 2021. Heavy with pandemic tensions, the tensions of racial unrest, family tensions, health concerns. This year, my roads have been barricaded, my finances eroded, my relationships damaged, and my children hurt…
Christmas 1914—it was only five months into the First World War. Cultural memory remembers this war as senseless and wasteful, ending an era of stability for the West. I was taught in school that this was the war that disabused the West of their own civility in war—with the introduction of chemical warfare, machine guns, and far more powerful artillery than the world had seen up to this point…
I am not sure when I first became aware of the way my subconscious converses with my conscious self through song. But in the same way you begin to see the same car you just purchased, around every corner, I notice it happening all the time now…
We live in a world that can easily consume us with its catastrophes, commercials and cacophonies. These come at us from our larger world, or our smaller worlds; there is noise from every side vying for our attention, trying to prop up some image of what an ideal world or life should be…
“Mary was a total bada**!” she blurted out, and then almost immediately covered her mouth. This spontaneous (and hilarious) outburst happened one Sunday morning while our community was walking through Mary’s Song, the Magnificat (Luke 1:46-53)…
Growing up, Christmas was a relatively quiet experience. My mom often worked through the holidays, and living on a hobby farm meant we weren’t going far if we were to go anyway. The one day I’d look forward to was the one day my aunt, uncle and cousin would come to visit…
The past few months have been a particular season of stillness and readiness in Advent for my wife Bonnie and I. This has been one of the hardest years I can remember, encompassing family losses, pandemic social collapse and isolation, health failures, and surgery…
I have found that seasons of waiting tend to come and go in intensity and I’m coming out of one of the tougher ones for me right now. During this past June and July, the time from Monday to Friday seemed to take extra long…
A little over a year ago, I sat in a park, bundled up with a small group of people trying to safely do church in the midst of a global pandemic. Beside me sat a man about my age, whom I hadn’t seen since well before the start of the pandemic…
Today’s text from Isaiah brings to mind the many tree stumps dotting the perimeter of our home. When we moved here our single acre of land was ringed with overgrown box elder, or Manitoba maple. These trees grow like weeds but have a short lifespan. Wind storms have felled a number of them; the stumps are what remain after we clean up the fallen trees…
I’m gonna just say this flat out: I felt a leetle bit of excitement when I read the first reading from Numbers today.
I know that doesn’t make me look good. I know that this is one of those stories that we are supposed to struggle with in Scripture, and I promise that I do…
I grew up singing and have always loved to sing. We sang together as a family during evening devotions. My first memories of singing are from when I was 4 years old and my sister was 3….
“If you aren’t angry, you aren’t paying attention.” That’s been my favorite bumper sticker, and I just found it on a t-shirt for sale this Christmas.There’s a lot in this world and in myself to be outraged about this year; anger has been a great fuel to get out there, right some wrongs and feel a little more self-righteous along the way…
I went to bible school way back in the 1990s. This was before the fancy technology of today. My computer was a word processer with a 4-inch screen. We made calls on the communal dorm payphone shared by thirty students. Cellphones were not around quite yet, so people communicated by writing notes to each other instead of texting…
In mid-September, I started a 100-Day Dress Challenge, which means I have worn the very same dress every day for two and a half months. Sounds a little crazy, doesn’t it? Maybe it is, but it has also been freeing; decision fatigue is a real thing, and I experience less of it when I have fewer decisions in the morning related to what I wear…
For most (all?) of us, the past year and a half has shifted our understanding and experiences of time. I can no longer remember whether the pandemic started in 2020 or 2019. If you ask me when I last went to a sports game or a concert, it simultaneously feels like six months and six years ago…
For what do you most deeply long?
For the people to whom Isaiah spoke,
the people who were in exile,
their longing was clear:
a safe way through the wilderness,
and a path home again.
Here’s the Infinitum Christmas Plan take on the old discipline of ‘divine reading’.
First Movement: Peruse. Peruse means ‘read (something), typically in a thorough or careful way. Before you start, ask the Lord to open the eyes of your heart for this exercise and then read slowly, curiously, and aggressively…
Some things in life cannot be rushed.
Hasn’t our experience with COVID and all its associated uncertainties taught us that? We’ve been tentatively trudging our way out of isolations, shut-downs, and cancellations for a while now, and we still don’t know if COVID is over.
Because some things in life cannot be rushed…
When I first saw this painting, I was struck by the contrast between the image’s cold setting and its warm colour tones. I could feel heat radiating from the crowd on the left and the chilled air being breathed in by the workers in the field and by children at play…
“An evil generation demands a sign,” Jesus says.
I’m always looking for signs. A running transcript of my prayers might read something like this:
God, please show me what to do.
God, should I speak up? Should I stay quiet?
Is it time to start something new? Is it time to call it quits? To press pause?
Should I give that person a call, God? A text maybe? Or let them have some space?
Is now the time? Or, God, are you saying to wait?
God, please just show me what to do…
Growing up, my sisters and I built gingerbread houses and decorated them so thoroughly that the powdered sugar dust lingered in the curtains for weeks. We built palaces of icing and cookie sheets. But then the horrible reality set in almost immediately as we recalled The Great Law of Advent…
Advent is a season of expectation. We look back to the birth of Jesus and contemplate all that this event means for our lives. However, is it possible to gain a similar perspective from an event that has not yet occurred…
Thank you for joining us for the 2021 New Leaf Advent Reader. I am excited to share this collection of reflections from writers across Canada during the Advent Season. The authors are pastors and poets; historians and theologians; laypeople and church leaders. And they all come together to wrestle with the tensions of the Advent season…
Explore last year’s Advent Reader:
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.