O Come, O Come Emmanuel 2

Each week, I take some time to reflect on one of the lectionary passages for the upcoming Sunday. Yesterday, March 25 was the Annunciation of the Lord (9 months from Christmas), so I'll be reflecting on the Old Testament passage, Isaiah 7:10-14, and the gospel passage, Luke 1:26-38.

We are in the homestretch of Lent. And yet this week, we have the Annunciation of the Lord which remind us of Christmas; or, rather, Advent. How odd. Advent in March. I am used to the inverse happening. Around Christmastime, many are quick to take the baby Jesus and get him up on the cross as quickly as possible. But Gabriel appearing to Mary and promises of God with us in the spring? Imagine if your church threw up the tree and busted out some "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" this week. It would be jarring.

Jarring, but maybe necessary. Advent and Lent, Christmas and Easter still need some room to breathe (there is something to be said for the fact that Advent is sometimes called Winter Lent). I think there is something important to the uniqueness of these seasons. But maybe we need small moments like this week's passages to remember the bigger picture. I once led a retreat at a church one weekend in which we looked at the life of Jesus. We sang Christmas carols on Friday night, looked at Jesus' teachings and miracles on Saturday morning, observed communion and went through the Stations of the Cross on Saturday night, and celebrated Easter on Sunday morning. I loved it. There is something about remembering the larger story.

The Isaiah and Luke passages take us back to the promises that preceded this story. Isaiah tells Ahaz that there will be a sign from on high: Immanuel, God with us. Gabriel tells Mary that she will give birth to the Son of the Most High and that his kingdom will never end. The message from the prophet and the angel is clear: help is on the way.

Help is on the way. The message is timely. Lent is a time in which we come to grips with our own shortcomings, frailty, and failings. It is time when we are reminded that we need help. Palm Sunday, for all of its pageantry and palm branches and shouts of Hosanna is only a temporary relief. It's a fake out. When Jesus enters Jerusalem as its peaceful king, you think it's the dawn of the new day. But it is a prelude to the world plunging into even greater darkness.

Yet it is not just timely for Lent. It's timely for our world. One of the songs that I have been listening to a lot these last couple of years (but especially during Lent) is "Dear God 2.0" by The Roots. 

Technology turning the planet into zombies
Everybody all in everybody's dirty laundry
Acid rain, earthquakes, hurricane, tsunamis
Terrorists, crime sprees, assaults, and robberies
Cops yellin', "stop, freeze, " shoot him before he try to leave
Air quality so foul, I gotta try to breathe
Endangered species and we runnin' out of trees
If I could hold the world in the palm of these
Hands, I would probably do away with these anomalies
Everybody checkin' for the new award nominee
Wars and atrocities; look at all the poverty
Ignoring the prophecies, more beef than broccoli
Corporate monopoly, weak world economy
Stock market topplin'
Mad marijuana, Oxycontin, and Klonopin
Everybody out of it?

We always need to hear that help is on the way.

Perhaps what the lectionary is giving us is one final rope to grasp until Easter. It reminds us that God is with us because this world and the crucifixion tries its darnedest to scream that God is not with us. How could God be such a loser to be executed like criminal? How could God allow all the atrocities rattled off in that song? Yet if we listen closely to the faint echo of these promises on Good Friday then we will hear, "No, this is exactly what 'God with us' means. God is with us in everything." This Jesus on the cross, seemingly defeated, is still the Jesus of these great promises. He is ushering in God's reign and that kingdom will have no end.

So in that darkness, in the darkness that we face in this world every day, Isaiah and Gabriel compel us to sing "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" in defiance. In spite of a world of hatred, prejudice, greed, injustice, religious hypocrisy, hurt, and fear. In spite of a world that would murder the true, good, and perfect One who came here in love, sing "O Come, O Come Emmanuel." Remember the promises. Hold tightly to them. And in spite of the nightmarish odds, rejoice. God with us shall come and save.

Correction note: This blog originally stated that these passages were for the sixth Sunday of Lent and that Palm Sunday did not take place until the Sunday after the next. Basically, I became completely unmoored in time and forgot to look at a calendar.