Second Saturday of Advent
Scripture Reading for Today:
Psalm 126
A song of ascents.When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dreamed. 2 Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy. Then it was said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.” 3 The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy. 4 Restore our fortunes, Lord, like streams in the Negev. 5 Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy. 6 Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.
Habakkuk 3:13-19
13 You came out to deliver your people, to save your anointed one. You crushed the leader of the land of wickedness, you stripped him from head to foot. 14 With his own spear you pierced his head when his warriors stormed out to scatter us, gloating as though about to devour the wretched who were in hiding. 15 You trampled the sea with your horses, churning the great waters. 16 I heard and my heart pounded, my lips quivered at the sound; decay crept into my bones, and my legs trembled. Yet I will wait patiently for the day of calamity to come on the nation invading us. 17 Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, 18 yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. 19 The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to tread on the heights. For the director of music. On my stringed instruments.
Matthew 21:28-32
The Parable of the Two Sons28 “What do you think? There was a man who had two sons. He went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work today in the vineyard.’ 29 “‘I will not,’ he answered, but later he changed his mind and went. 30 “Then the father went to the other son and said the same thing. He answered, ‘I will, sir,’ but he did not go. 31 “Which of the two did what his father wanted?” “The first,” they answered. Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you. 32 For John came to you to show you the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes did. And even after you saw this, you did not repent and believe him.
Joy is Resistance
by Pablo Kim Sun
"Joy" is a word that saturates the Christmas season. It echoes through carols, decorates cards and T-shirts, yet at times, amid the tumultuous backdrop of climate crises, global conflicts, and pervasive injustice, it can seem superficial. How can we find joy when the world around us seems devoid of it? It's reminiscent of a lavish party aboard the Titanic, ignorant of the impending disaster.
Finding joy detached from reality might seem like escapism, a means of turning away from the heartbreaking truths in front of us. However, when joy is deeply rooted in our current reality, woven into our communities and lived experiences, it becomes a powerful force fueling our journey of faith.
In my study and advocacy for social justice, I encounter stories of profound injustice, oppression, and systemic evils. I listen to stories of individuals facing racism, sexism, ableism, and various other forms of oppression. Yet, remarkably, these same marginalized voices also speak of joy. Some Black theologians discuss "Black joy," while some feminist theologians emphasize the significance of joy and pleasure. These scholars shed light on systemic evils while also sharing stories of joy and pleasure, illustrating the interconnectedness between suffering and joy—a wisdom reminiscent of my Korean ancestors.
For those familiar with the writings of Korean theologians, "han” (한 - Korean; 恨 - Chinese) is a recurring theme. It embodies a sense of unresolved resentment towards injustice, a feeling of helplessness in the face of overwhelming odds, and acute pain and sorrow from various forms of oppression. It's a visceral experience tied to political oppression, economic exploitation, social exclusion, and poverty.
However, alongside han exists "heung” (흥 - Korean; 興 - Chinese), translated as joy, pleasure, and merriment. In the midst of han-filled circumstances, our ancestors deliberately chose heung, seeing it as a resistance—an embodiment of hope in challenging times. In the face of adversity, they collectively chose celebration as a means to defy hopelessness. Actively seeking reasons to rejoice, they recognized that even within the bleakest situations, beauty and moments of wonder persist, promoting them to intentionally celebrate and find joy.
Reflecting on Romans 5:3, where Apostle Paul urges rejoicing in suffering, I initially struggled to grasp its meaning. It seemed almost masochistic, an encouragement to blindly rejoice in harsh conditions. But viewed through the cultural lens of my Korean heritage and the perspectives of some feminist and Black theologians, Paul's message now resonates. Joy, I realize, is an act of resistance—a way of embodying hope in the present.
I am acutely aware of the widespread suffering in the world. Some, privileged, can choose to ignore it. However, I lack that privilege. Still, I choose joy because I genuinely believe in the resilience of humanity and the divine amidst the struggle. While my individual efforts may seem insignificant, I trust in the collective power of small actions rippling into meaningful change. Rather than succumbing to the enormity of evil, I dedicate myself to contributing my utmost to the collective endeavour of forging a better world. Simultaneously, I revel in the beauty and wonder that surrounds us daily, finding solace in the belief that, mysteriously, there will be a full restoration - relying on the humble beginnings of the story of redemption with the arrival of baby Jesus.
And if you happen to see me listening and dancing to “Gangnam Style,” consider it a moment of pure heung.
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Explore the year’s Advent Reader posts:
There is a small forest near my home that I love to walk in at dusk. The trail is well-worn. My feet know the way by heart. Why do I choose this trail time and again? There are certainly ones that are more peaceful and full. Maybe it's because God and I have done a lot of business there together. I've looked for His divine presence in the soft pine needles on the earthen floor on more than one occasion. I've added a lot of tearful prayers to the sounds of gently swaying trees as night falls…
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Welcome to the sixth annual New Leaf Advent Reader. I am so excited to share this collection of reflections with you! In 2018, when we put out our first set of daily reflections, I felt like I was leveraging the whole network to find people willing to write a reflection for this unknown project…
Explore last year’s Advent Reader:
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This year's Advent Reader theme is Known and Unknown: Dwelling in the Mystery of Advent.
The lectionary reading for today includes Psalm 42, which, in my opinion, contains a lot of unknowns. Ah, good ol' Psalm 42. If you're older (like me), then the first line is bound to bring to mind the 1984 worship song titled "As the Deer." If you know this popular Christian chorus, I bet you're humming the tune as you read…
Ah! The third week of Advent. The week of Joy! We light the rose candle on Sunday, signifying the joyous anticipation of the Lord’s coming. The rose candle is sometimes called the Shepherds’ Candle to remind us that the good news of great joy was first announced to common people. Common people! Not the rich, not the elite, not the royal, not the fittest and greatest among us, but people that don’t usually draw attention…
Rich in majesty and mystery Mary’s Magnificat is written like a poetic doxology. A hymn of praise, it begins individually and ends communally as it spotlights God’s mercy and might, God’s holiness, and saving help. Singing it reminds us of who God is. Reminds us that God sees us. Helps us to see each other…
Richard Wagamese, in his novel A Quality of Light, has a white father say to his adopted Indigenous son, “You’ve got all the chapters and verses. The only thing you don’t understand is the begats. And believe me, son, no one ever reads the begats.” But that’s not true. Wagamese’s story reveals that the son did need to understand his “begats.” He needed to know the stories and details about where he came from…
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At the mid-way point in the pandemic unveiling (or nightmare, if you prefer), I had nearly convinced myself that the Christian faith was no longer for me. You remember this time, I’m sure. We had all stopped cheering for healthcare workers, and winter was setting in, so we didn’t even have daylight after work anymore to remind us that life might still be worth the effort…
There is a four-letter word I am not particularly fond of at the moment. I suppose it makes sense in some situations. In other circumstances, I can hear it without getting annoyed. But where I am right now, in this season of life, with growing disillusionment, mounting frustration, transitions looming, and uncertainty around the corner, I am admittedly just not in a place to hear it…
I don’t want to dwell in the mystery of Advent. I don’t want to dwell in the mystery of anything. I am tired of the uncertainty. I am very aware of my likeness to withering grass and fading flowers (Isa. 40:6-7), and I am very, very tired. What I want is assurance. I just want those green pastures and still waters of Psalm 23.
I’m not a natural waiter.
I don’t mean the waiter that tends restaurant tables. I’ve spent plenty of time working those jobs to be proficient. I’m not great as someone waiting for their longings to be answered…
I was spending too much time on Twitter the other day. I should have known better.
Sure enough, in my scrolling I came across a clip of a Christian at a political rally in a southern state in the United States praying, "Lord I pray, in the name of Jesus, that you would allow conservatives to win ... I pray that Christians turn out all over *the State* and that we vote for the person most like you, Lord. And I believe that is *name* of the politician." The prayer concluded with applause…
What image does the word “mystery” conjure up for you? For me, it ranges from a wonderful novel that draws me into the unknown to the breathtaking night skies I experienced when camping in the summer to the terrifying moments I had in the hospital. The element of mystery is an odd mix of fun and dread…
This week marks the start of the Advent season, to which I say, “Bring on the Christmas carols, cards, and gifts; twinkle lights, sugar cookies, and peppermint hot chocolate; put on your fuzzy pyjamas; play festive movies; and put up your Christmas tree with me!” To some, this might not seem like a sincere, faithful response anticipating Christ’s birth…
One of the enduring mysteries, not only of Advent but of the entire premise that God is intimately invested in the wellbeing of the cosmos, is the blurring of lines between creator and creation, between sovereignty and submission, between strength and weakness, between inception and completion…
I have been learning that in life, there are many uncertain roads to walk. Uncertainty seems to be more prevalent now, as many of us face global pandemic uncertainties alongside all the other existing ones…