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Anger and courage
“Hope has two beautiful daughters,” writes Augustine of
Hippo. “Their names are Anger and Courage; anger at the
way things are, and courage to see that they do not
remain the way they are.” That’s not the way we
typically imagine hope, especially in this season of
Advent.
The period of expectant waiting that precedes Christmas
is wrapped so tightly with consumer fantasies that we
may sometimes slip into imagining that the Christ child
born to Mary is like so many other presents waiting for
us under the tree: the perfect solution to our
persistent craving for something new and entertaining;
evidence of family and friends’ love measured in terms
of price. The hope shining in the eyes of the eager
child (or adult) as she unwraps her presents on
Christmas morning is the hope that someone paid
attention, read her list, heard her wishes. It is not
the kind of hope that carries any real meaning for the
future. As soon as the wrapping paper has been collected
and recycled, this weak hope is off looking for some new
distraction.
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No, the hope Augustine is talking about transcends any
personal wish fulfillment fantasies. It is an
earth-shaking, empire-toppling hope. It is the
passionate expectation that God will do something to
heal and transform this world even, sometimes, when all
the evidence seems to indicate that the opposite is
true. Even when it seems that nothing ever changes. It
is the hope that fills Mary’s song when she sings, "He
has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and
lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good
things, and sent the rich away empty" (Luke 1:52–53).
Mary’s song
During a time of year when the culture at large seems
committed to nostalgia and sentimentality, can we allow
ourselves to hear the anger of one mother as she
prepares to bring her child into a world she knew would
not be safe for him? Can we acknowledge the courage it
must have taken to respond to news of her unplanned
pregnancy during an era of foreign occupation and
violent oppression? She responded with the words, “Here am I, the
servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your
word.”
The joy in Mary’s song, “my soul magnifies the Lord, and
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,” can only be
understood in relation to the suffering and context in
which she sang. Suffering can only be endured for so
long until we become numb and capitulate to it in
hopelessness—or until we allow our anger at the world’s
deep wounds to combine with the courage to confront the
powers and principalities with a song like Mary’s. A
song of hope.
Our children, our future
On the day after Derrion’s death dozens of neighbors and
classmates gathered near the place where he died to
grieve his passing. Within an hour they had returned to
the rhythm of their normal routine. Many are no longer
shocked by the frequency with which children in their
community are killed. But across town, at a safety
committee meeting, a group of people gathered in a
circle to share their outrage. They gathered to build up
the courage and the will to confront the powers that
make resources like education and transportation safely
available to the comfortable and the wealthy, but not
the working poor. They told stories about their work
with gang-involved youth in this same neighborhood 20
years ago:
“You stand on the street corners in the middle of a
group of children, and sometimes you feel afraid for
your life, but then you remember—these are our
children. Our sons and daughters. We have to get over
our fear and fight for them if there’s going to be any
hope for the future.”
Anger and Courage. Hope’s daughters.
The Rev.
Erik Christensen is the pastor of St. Luke's Lutheran
Church in Chicago. You can read his sermon
blog here.
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Visit the
study
page for ideas for discussion and further
reflection.
Advent begins with words from Jesus that cast a conflict between
earthly powers in cosmic terms. In the verses that precede the
reading for this first Sunday in Advent, Jesus says, “. . . you will
be brought before kings and governors because of my name. This will
give you an opportunity to testify. So make up your minds not to
prepare your defense in advance; for I will give you words and a
wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or
contradict.” (Luke 21:12b–14)
This
chapter of Luke begins with Jesus responding to a group of people
who were overly impressed with the edifice of the temple: “As for
these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone
will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.” (Luke 21:6)
Waiting on the world to change
Jesus himself was an outsider to the religious establishment. The
good religious people of his day were the very ones who sought his
death because he dared to heal and associate with the “wrong” people
at the “wrong” time. Jesus put people before policies. Our faith in
God leads us to speak with and for those people and places that the
powers of this world have left for dead. Our eyes are opened to the
outrages of human suffering. We are emboldened to act with courage
in the face of kings and governors, authorities both civil and
religious.
He has brought down the powerful from their
thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good
things, and sent the rich away empty. (Luke 1:52–53)
Advent ends with a song, from Mary’s lips to God’s ears. In the
gospel reading for the last Sunday of Advent we listen as Mary’s
song is shared with her kinswoman, Elizabeth.
Mary’s song proclaims the hope that God is bringing into the world
through her son, Jesus. It is a song filled with anger at the
consequences of humanity’s arrogance—anger at the misuse of power
by those responsible for the needs of the people and anger at the
conspicuous consumption of the wealthy in the presence of the hungry
and the poor.
At the same time, it is a courageous song. It speaks about a series
of reversals that had yet to happen as if they had already been
accomp-lished. It is a song that refuses to settle for the world as
it is, that insists on struggling for the world as it was created to
be. Full of both anger and courage, Mary’s song is a song of hope.
Longing for light
As we set up our crèches, we not only reassure ourselves that God is
coming into the world and that God is with us, but we also recognize
that there is something about the world as it is that is less than
the world as it should be. Our deep longing for light in a season
when night falls early and dawn comes late reminds us that the world
is suffering—that we are all looking for a little light, a little
hope.
Maybe this year the light our world needs is being born in you.
Maybe the fire that burns in your belly as you see homeless people
bundled up under the freeway or hungry people lining up for the food
pantry, is just the kindling of a blaze that will be fed by the
spirit of courage to do something about it. Maybe it will be your
anger and your courage that birth hope into the world in the coming
year.
The Rev. Erik Christensen is the pastor of
St. Luke's Lutheran Church in Chicago. You can read his sermon
blog here.
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