Ken Sehested
In Memory of Rosa Parks’ refusal to relinquish her bus seat, leading to her arrest,
1 December 1955, Montgomery, Alabama, a small act of defiance which
prompted the modern Civil Rights movement.
Processional (this is how Advent begins). “I see the bad moon a-rising / I see trouble on the way / I see earthquakes and lightning / I see bad times today / I hear hurricanes a-blowing / I know the end is coming soon / I fear rivers overflowing / I hear the voice of rage and ruin.” —Credence Clearwater Revival, “Bad Moon Rising”
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First Sunday
Do not bow in the face of fear, O Little Flock of Jesus. Though
be vigilant, for there is reason to quake. Before Jesus was so
described in the Gospels, it was Roman Emperor Caesar Augustus
who was proclaimed as “savior” and “redeemer” who brought
“salvation” to the world, and citizens were to have “faith” in their
“lord.” Scripture’s nativity stories have grown sentimental in our
telling, but not so for the original accounts. Then and there, a
head-to-head conflict was narrated as to whose peace was more
reliable, whose promise more trustworthy, whose Word would
endure beyond the heavens’ rending and the mountains’
trembling. Regardless the stumble, do not slumber. Despite
history’s grimaces, do not shield your eyes nor stop your ears, lest
you miss an angel’s announcement of hope’s incursion. Stay
awake!
§ § §
Hymn of yearning. “We are waiting” (for that Gloria in Excelsis Deo). —The Many
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Second Sunday
Be clear about this, O Little Flock of Jesus: Fear is a liar and a
cheat. It will bargain its bag of trinkets and baubles and plastic
shiny objects for the world-blessing power with which you have
been vested. When fear comes knocking, open the door and say,
“Come in; stay as long as you like, but you’ll get no bed or board
here.” Do not trouble yourself over fear’s sneers. Though tossed
on the waves of dread and cast onto the shoals of distress, take
heart. Though the wilderness be your portion, remember that the
Light of Life has been promised specifically to those who dwell
there. Though that great gettin-up-morning tarries, the day will
come when righteousness and peace will kiss. Fear not, stand still:
for such is the war-cry of the nonviolent people of God.
§ § §
Hymn of adoration. “Rejoice, O virgin mother of God, / Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee: / blessed art thou among women, / and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, / for thou hast borne the saviour of our souls.” —English translation of “Bogoroditse Devo,” Sergei Rachmaninoff, performed by Chicago Chorale
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Third Sunday
Fear the Lord, O Little Flock of Jesus, for only such holy fear has
the power to displace the sway of every mortal life’s dread and
dismay. Indeed, the fear of God liberates the fretful, whimpering
self that demands its privilege and exemption from covenant
ties—the very things that ruin life’s verdant provision. The One
who claims you thereby frees you to be the oil of gladness, an oak
of righteousness, repairer of ruined cities. This claim does not
maim but authorizes you to declare good news to the oppressed,
bind up the brokenhearted, proclaim liberty to the enslaved and
exoneration to the incarcerated. Fear’s murmuring shrivels the
soul and desiccates the heart. Though weeping o’ertake, sow your
tears trusting in the day when shouts of joy shall break out.
§ § §
Hymn of petition. “Before the ending of the day, / Creator of the world, we pray / That with Thy wonted favour Thou / Wouldst be our guard and keeper now.” —English translation of first verse of “Te Lucis Ante Terminum,” Advent, Compline, performed by St. Martin’s Chamber Choir
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Fourth Sunday
Practice fear displacement, O Little Flock of Jesus. Resist any who
proclaim the politics of panic. Live in the blessed assurance that
the world—despite much evidence to the contrary—is in God’s
hands and is promised to the meek who know their true source of
security is the One who fashioned the earth in an act of sheer
delight. “Fear not!” was the angel’s greeting to Mother Mary. And
her response to this incredulous announcement? “Let it be. Let it
be with me according to your Word.” Let it be with thee as well,
barren pilgrim, every settler who will not settle for less than the
coming new heaven and new earth, every weary traveler who
awaits Christ’s disclosure in the breaking of bread. Trod on, you
traveler to Beulah’s fecund fields, to Zion’s streams of mercy and
vineyards brimmed with gladness, where Love Incarnate soothes
every furrowed brow, disentangles every knotted fear, restores the
blinded eye and deafened ear, and caters a feast for the ages.
§ § §
Benediction. “Lord, Help Me to Hold Out,” —Detroit Mass Choir
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