These are the days
November 29, 2009
Jeremiah 33:14-16; Luke 21:25-36
These are days you’ll remember
Never before and never since, I promise
Will the whole world be warm as this
And as you feel it,
You’ll know it’s true
That you are blessed and lucky
It’s true that you
Are touched by something
That will grow and bloom in you
These are days that you’ll remember
When May is rushing over you
With desire to be part of the miracles
You see in every hour
You’ll know it’s true
That you are blessed and lucky
It’s true that you are touched
By something that will grow and bloom in you
These are days
These are the days you might fill
With laughter until you break
These days you might feel
A shaft of light
Make its way across your face
And when you do
Then you’ll know how it was meant to be
See the signs and know their meaning
It's true
Then you’ll know how it was meant to be
Hear the signs and know they’re speaking
To you, to you
Among the problems I have with our fundamentalist sisters and brothers is their tendency to read apocalyptic literature as literal, historical prophecy. That doesn’t really help. You wind up with things like the movie 2012 – it just doesn’t get you anywhere unless you are the film maker. Apocalyptic literature, at least in the Bible, is intended to be a word of hope, and certainly those passages that we read this morning are filled with hope if we understand the promise within them.
But I find that flat-footed interpretation of such strange texts are less helpful than more artistic impressions. Now I do not pretend that Natalie Merchant and 10,000 Maniacs had Advent in mind when they wrote and recorded “These Are Days,” but the song still strikes me as an anthem appropriate to the season, for the signs and wonders the Biblical writers point toward are for you, and they are full of laughter and of light shining across your face.
Sometimes a song or a poem or a painting or a gesture or a tradition or a ritual can speak volumes more than even the best-chosen words. So, this morning, as we consider the promise implied in these ancient texts, as we light a single candle – to remind us, to prepare us, to curse the darkness – and as we gather at this table, remember: these are the days, our days, our moment to live in God’s time and to experience and receive some small part of the promise that a shaft of light will make its way across your face – that a light will and does shine still in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.
Let that let dwell in you these days of waiting and preparing, of longing and listening, of hope and wonder.
These are the days that we have been given. Let us rejoice and be glad in them. Let us do our part to make them days of justice and of peace. Let us do our part to remember the promises of God, and to live into them with faith, hope and love.
And let us begin these days in the breaking of bread.
Jeremiah 33:14-16; Luke 21:25-36
These are days you’ll remember
Never before and never since, I promise
Will the whole world be warm as this
And as you feel it,
You’ll know it’s true
That you are blessed and lucky
It’s true that you
Are touched by something
That will grow and bloom in you
These are days that you’ll remember
When May is rushing over you
With desire to be part of the miracles
You see in every hour
You’ll know it’s true
That you are blessed and lucky
It’s true that you are touched
By something that will grow and bloom in you
These are days
These are the days you might fill
With laughter until you break
These days you might feel
A shaft of light
Make its way across your face
And when you do
Then you’ll know how it was meant to be
See the signs and know their meaning
It's true
Then you’ll know how it was meant to be
Hear the signs and know they’re speaking
To you, to you
Among the problems I have with our fundamentalist sisters and brothers is their tendency to read apocalyptic literature as literal, historical prophecy. That doesn’t really help. You wind up with things like the movie 2012 – it just doesn’t get you anywhere unless you are the film maker. Apocalyptic literature, at least in the Bible, is intended to be a word of hope, and certainly those passages that we read this morning are filled with hope if we understand the promise within them.
But I find that flat-footed interpretation of such strange texts are less helpful than more artistic impressions. Now I do not pretend that Natalie Merchant and 10,000 Maniacs had Advent in mind when they wrote and recorded “These Are Days,” but the song still strikes me as an anthem appropriate to the season, for the signs and wonders the Biblical writers point toward are for you, and they are full of laughter and of light shining across your face.
Sometimes a song or a poem or a painting or a gesture or a tradition or a ritual can speak volumes more than even the best-chosen words. So, this morning, as we consider the promise implied in these ancient texts, as we light a single candle – to remind us, to prepare us, to curse the darkness – and as we gather at this table, remember: these are the days, our days, our moment to live in God’s time and to experience and receive some small part of the promise that a shaft of light will make its way across your face – that a light will and does shine still in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.
Let that let dwell in you these days of waiting and preparing, of longing and listening, of hope and wonder.
These are the days that we have been given. Let us rejoice and be glad in them. Let us do our part to make them days of justice and of peace. Let us do our part to remember the promises of God, and to live into them with faith, hope and love.
And let us begin these days in the breaking of bread.
posted by David Ensign at
8:20 AM
<< Home