Second Sunday of Christmas 2021

 Second Sunday of Christmas 2021

Lectionary readings: Jeremiah 31:7-14 and Ephesians 1:3-14 and John 1:10-18

One of the ways that I find it helpful to approach scripture is through lectio divina, or ‘divine reading’. This way of reading comes from the western monastic tradition:

we begin by stilling ourselves and reading through the passage slowly (lectio), perhaps more than once, open to whatever God’s Holy Spirit might want to bring to the attention of our spirit;

then we take time to reflect on any phrase that captures our attention (meditatio), asking the Holy Spirit to lead us into an understanding of this word for us today—a process that might involve others through a corporate sharing;

we then turn what we have heard from God back to God in prayer (oratio), in repentance or praise;

and finally we end in spending time with God in companionable silence (contemplatio), resisting rushing away.

As I sat with the passages set for today, my attention was drawn to these words from the Old Testament reading:

‘…their life shall become like a watered garden, and they shall never languish again.’ Jeremiah 31:12c

Their life shall become like a watered garden. Whose life? That of the remnant community, those who had been scattered by God and would be gathered—brought home—by God. It will help us to reflect on the context. Jeremiah was a prophet who spoke for God to the people of Judah during the reigns of Josiah, Jehoiakim, and Zedekiah until the captivity of Jerusalem. We read of his call to this task, God saying, “See, today I appoint you over nations and kingdoms, to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant” (Jeremiah 1:10). The book that bears his name is a collection of speeches that point out to the people of Judah that, like Israel to the north, they have been unfaithful in their covenant relationship with God; that their corporate actions will result in judgement and exile, unless they repent, and, eventually, unavoidably; but that God’s faithfulness will be seen in and through their exile, and in their eventual return from exile.

Now, some time before Jeremiah, the northern kingdom of Israel essentially disappears from history, during the reign of the Assyrian king Sennacherib (704-681 BCE). To the south, the king in Jerusalem rebelled, withholding tribute to Sennacherib, who besieged them, and, despite divine intervention to protect Jerusalem from destruction, reimposed even greater tribute payment. I mention this because Sennacherib had a world-famous garden constructed in his capital, Nineveh.

To return to Jeremiah, by now Assyria has been swallowed-up by Babylon, and Nebuchadnezzar II (605-562 BCE) [the book of Jeremiah refers to him as Nebuchadrezzar] turns his attention to Jerusalem. He defeats Jehoiakim, carrying him and his officials off to Babylon, and making Zedekiah king in Jerusalem in his place. But when Zedekiah rebels, Jerusalem is besieged once more, and destroyed; Zedekiah’s sons are killed in from of him, and then his eyes are put out. Another wave of exile to Babylon follows, and also a wider dispersal, including down to Egypt.

It is on the far side of this exile that Jeremiah foresees that ‘their life shall become like a watered garden.’

And this is where it gets interesting. You see, according to five writers of classical antiquity, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon were one of the wonders of the world. They were, according to all, a wonder of engineering, a series of tiers, to recreate the sense of being in the mountains despite actually being on the plain. They were, according to one source, constructed by Nebuchadnezzar II; according to another, they were irrigated from the Euphrates by means of Archimedes’ screw. And the thing is, we don’t know whether the Hanging Gardens of Babylon actually existed (there is no archaeological evidence, and no Babylonian record), or whether they were a poetic construction—a way of boasting about the grandeur of the capital of the greatest empire on earth—or, perhaps, if they were a misattribution of Sennacherib’s (well-attested) gardens in Nineveh. But we do know that they were a powerful symbol, with a life of its own. Whether the gardens literally towered over the exiles in Babylon, or only over the imagination of those left behind in a ruined Jerusalem (whose Temple—another wonder of the world—would be destroyed), the image of God constructing a well-watered garden in and for his own capital city was also a powerful one. Here is an image of hope, of a reversal of fortune. Unlike Babylon, Jerusalem had no river from which to draw water. But perhaps Ezekiel, carried off into exile and building on Jeremiah, adds another tier with his vision of a river flowing from the (rebuilt) Temple (Ezekiel 47)—the River of Life.

In our Gospel reading we hear that in Jesus, the invisible God has been made known. Not simply a poetic construction, nor a misidentification, but a manifestation of grace and truth. We are not called to be a people who make empty power-claims, nor bask in glories from another age, another place. We are those being gathered into Jesus, to know the God who is grace and truth, who calls us to live lives that are generous and authentic.

And here we are, at the start of a new year, hoping to move beyond the disaster that Covid-19 has wrought over the past year, needing to build an uncertain future now that we have finally left the EU. Knowing that it will take time, but looking to the future. Is our hope in our national exceptionalism, or in God’s lavish goodness? Will our future be one of levelling-up our communities through pioneering infrastructure, or white elephants for the pleasure of the super-rich?

And so, we turn to God in prayer. We give thanks for the hope that You have put in our hearts, a hope of communities—of our community—restored and renewed, made fruitful. Lord, help us to embrace that hope, when we are tempted to despair. Lord, help us to hold on to that hope of a watered garden, in the depths of winter when the water is frozen-over and the ground is hard, and the plants have been cut back and allowed to rest. Soften our hearts where they have grown cold and hard. Lord, may we rest in You; and, in Your time, may we experience new growth, and bear fruit, fruit that will last, as Your Spirit flows with life and power. Lord, would you rebuild Your Church in this land, that we might be mighty trees in whose branches there is shelter for all. Lord, may our roots go deeper this year, deeper into Your faithful loving-kindness. This past year has been hard for us, in so many ways. We thank you that You are with us in our exiles, working for our good even when we find ourselves far from home; and we thank you that, in time You lead us back, you gather us together. Lord, we look forward to the day when we will be able to sing for joy again, and hug and shake hands and sit and eat together when we come together in your presence. May other people be brought into that place. Bless the city where you have placed us, in the plans to regenerate the riverside, with new housing and places of work, bridges across the Wear, public gardens along the river. Bless our families, the young and the old, and those who care for them. And bless this word to us in 2021: ‘…their life shall become like a watered garden, and they shall never languish again.’ To the glory of Your name, amen.

And, having prayed, we sit in silence with God, enjoying one another’s company, not rushing on with our service…