Changed in the Waiting
FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT - PEACE
December 22, 2024
SCRIPTURE
LUKE 1:46-55
My soul glorifies the Lord
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has been mindful
of the humble state of his servant.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty.
—LUKE 1:-46B-48A, 52-53
LUKE 1:46-55
My soul glorifies the Lord
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has been mindful
of the humble state of his servant.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty.
—LUKE 1:-46B-48A, 52-53
We've arrived in the final week of Advent, where we are invited to explore the gift of peace. Seasons of waiting can often be tense with uncertainty, even downright tumultuous. Like joy, we expect the tranquility of peace to come only after what we're waiting for has arrived. But in Advent, we are invited to reconsider our expectations of peace—not just how it arrives but also what it is. I expect peace to bring the comfortable tranquility of a conflict-free zone. But when I encounter the words in Mary's “Magnificat,” I confess it sounds more disruptive than calming to me. Hearing the bold conviction of this young woman’s words is my first indication that God’s definition of peace is far greater than my own.
In her prophetic song, Mary echoes the prophets who spoke of righteousness (sedaqah), justice (mishpat), and peace (shalom) as truths that are inseparably woven together. Righteousness enacts God’s desire for justice, which brings holistic peace and well-being for both individuals and communities. The Hebrew word shalom is understood as the presence of wholeness and rightness, all things being as God intends them to be. God’s promise of peace is far greater than the absence of conflict—it is putting things right.
For prophets like Amos, Micah, and Isaiah, this vision of shalom had both social and economic implications. They consistently called God’s people toward loving compassion by sharing their wealth and privilege with the poorest and most vulnerable among them, rebuking those in power who only acted to benefit themselves. But they also promised that when God’s people were committed to righteousness and enacted justice, collective shalom would be the natural result.
Like the prophets before her, Mary’s words point to shalom within the injustices of her society. In Roman-occupied Palestine, justice was definitely not rolling like a river nor righteousness like a never-ending stream (see Amos 5:24). Those who sat on thrones of political and religious power used their privilege to get away with injustice and oppression. Mary knew that God’s Messiah growing in her womb would live out a righteousness that carried the twin gifts of justice and peace into this troubled reality.
Thirty some years later, Jesus preached a message of justice and peace that surprised even those who thought they knew what those words meant. He talked of loving one’s enemy, a commitment to nonviolence, and being a person of integrity no matter the cost (Matthew 5:33—48). So when Jesus said “blessed are the peacemakers,” he wasn’t encouraging people to play nice and never ruffle any feathers. He taught that true peace is made by doing the work of justice in partnership with God to bring things into the way they should be. Those who do this, Jesus said, are known as God’s children (Matthew 5:9) because they've joined the family business that was established in the garden.
What does this expanded definition of peace mean for those of us who wait? In my own waiting, I notice an internal tug-of-war between two reactionary stances. The first is a fiery zeal to make peace all by myself by taking justice into my own hands; the second is despair-induced inaction, believing I am powerless against the injustices that hinder shalom. In the first response I am tempted to wait for no one; in the second response I am tempted to sit on my hands while I wait for God to do it all in some far-off future.
Thankfully, Jesus names a third way, inviting us into humble, patient participation with the Prince of Peace. This happens as we open ourselves to God’s shalom flourishing in us and as God teaches us God’s ways of justice that extend shalom to others. In this final week of Advent, may we be open to the full breadth of the Spirit’s peace-making work in us.
In her prophetic song, Mary echoes the prophets who spoke of righteousness (sedaqah), justice (mishpat), and peace (shalom) as truths that are inseparably woven together. Righteousness enacts God’s desire for justice, which brings holistic peace and well-being for both individuals and communities. The Hebrew word shalom is understood as the presence of wholeness and rightness, all things being as God intends them to be. God’s promise of peace is far greater than the absence of conflict—it is putting things right.
For prophets like Amos, Micah, and Isaiah, this vision of shalom had both social and economic implications. They consistently called God’s people toward loving compassion by sharing their wealth and privilege with the poorest and most vulnerable among them, rebuking those in power who only acted to benefit themselves. But they also promised that when God’s people were committed to righteousness and enacted justice, collective shalom would be the natural result.
Like the prophets before her, Mary’s words point to shalom within the injustices of her society. In Roman-occupied Palestine, justice was definitely not rolling like a river nor righteousness like a never-ending stream (see Amos 5:24). Those who sat on thrones of political and religious power used their privilege to get away with injustice and oppression. Mary knew that God’s Messiah growing in her womb would live out a righteousness that carried the twin gifts of justice and peace into this troubled reality.
Thirty some years later, Jesus preached a message of justice and peace that surprised even those who thought they knew what those words meant. He talked of loving one’s enemy, a commitment to nonviolence, and being a person of integrity no matter the cost (Matthew 5:33—48). So when Jesus said “blessed are the peacemakers,” he wasn’t encouraging people to play nice and never ruffle any feathers. He taught that true peace is made by doing the work of justice in partnership with God to bring things into the way they should be. Those who do this, Jesus said, are known as God’s children (Matthew 5:9) because they've joined the family business that was established in the garden.
What does this expanded definition of peace mean for those of us who wait? In my own waiting, I notice an internal tug-of-war between two reactionary stances. The first is a fiery zeal to make peace all by myself by taking justice into my own hands; the second is despair-induced inaction, believing I am powerless against the injustices that hinder shalom. In the first response I am tempted to wait for no one; in the second response I am tempted to sit on my hands while I wait for God to do it all in some far-off future.
Thankfully, Jesus names a third way, inviting us into humble, patient participation with the Prince of Peace. This happens as we open ourselves to God’s shalom flourishing in us and as God teaches us God’s ways of justice that extend shalom to others. In this final week of Advent, may we be open to the full breadth of the Spirit’s peace-making work in us.
QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION, DISCUSSION, AND PRAYER
How does the concept of shalom as described here challenge or confirm your understanding of peace?
Where have you seen a commitment to justice bring peace to individuals and communities?
What places in your own life, relationships, or community are in need of God’s shalom right now?
How does the concept of shalom as described here challenge or confirm your understanding of peace?
Where have you seen a commitment to justice bring peace to individuals and communities?
What places in your own life, relationships, or community are in need of God’s shalom right now?