Thursday • 12/5/2024 •

Advent 1 Year 1

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 18:1–20; Isaiah 2:12–22; 1 Thessalonians 3:1–13; Luke 20:27–40 

This morning’s Canticles are: following the OT reading, Canticle 8 (“The Song of Moses,” Exodus 15, BCP, p. 85); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 19 (“The Song of the Redeemed,” Revelation 15:3–4, BCP, p. 94) 

Welcome to Daily Office Devotions, where every Monday through Friday we consider some aspect of that day’s Scripture readings, as given in the Book of Common Prayer. I’m Reggie Kidd, and I’m grateful to be with you this Thursday of the first week of Advent, as we begin a new year (Year 1) of the Daily Office Lectionary.  

Against the deadliest of the deadly sins: pride. For the Lord of hosts has a day against all that is proud and lofty, against all that is lifted up and high … The haughtiness of people shall be humbled, and the pride of everyone shall be brought low; and the Lord alone will be exalted on that day. — Isaiah 2:12,17.  

Pride, say the ancient saints, is the deadliest of the deadly sins. If so, its chief manifestation is idolatry. The atheistic philosopher Ludwig Feuerbach contends that the idea of God is just a projection of the human ego. We worship “Him,” Feuerbach implies, in order to worship ourselves. Idolatry (humanity’s kingdom of self) creates surrogate deities: the sun, the moon, the planets, possessions, magical objects, lovers: all expressions of our exaltation of ourselves. Idolatry says to God, “No thanks. I’ll do it my way.”  

Isaiah says that all this folly will come to a dramatic end. On the day of Yahweh Sabaoth, people will “fling to moles and bats the idols of silver and the idols of gold” that they made for worship (Isaiah 2:20 Jerusalem Bible). 

Today’s passage is not Isaiah’s first volley against idolatry, nor will it be his last. As we work our way reading through Isaiah from Advent through Epiphany, we will find the prophet returning to the theme over and over again.  

Isaiah’s fundamental attack is against what lies at the base of all idolatry: our own tendency to be impressed with ourselves—as though we were like lofty trees, majestic mountains, soaring hills, high towers, or expensive baubles (Isaiah 2:13–16). The commentator John Goldingay notes the wordplay that contrasts people’s pretense to prideful majesty (ge’eh) with Yahweh’s actual majesty (ga’on—Isaiah 2:12,19). What Isaiah wants us to do is reevaluate and repent of that which is in us that leads us to worship ourselves: “Turn away from mortals, who have only breath in their nostrils, for of what account are they?” (Isaiah 2:22).  

Against the second deadliest of the deadly sins: sloth. At the opposite end of the spectrum from the pride that leads to idolatry is the sloth that shrugs off the implications of being made in the image and likeness of “the God not of the dead, but of the living” (Luke 20:38). We were made to bear, says the apostle Paul, “an eternal weight of glory” (2 Corinthians 4:17). We are not, by implication, merely to be returned to the dust, nor reduced to ashes, when we die. The Sadducees did not believe life continues after physical death. Jesus expects them, and us, to infer the amazing truth of resurrection from the fact that the God of Israel’s patriarchs continues to be their Lord after their passing from this earthly sphere.  

If it is our eternal destiny to be returned to our bodies, and to outlive even the planets (as resurrection implies), it’s not difficult to see why some might wish to believe otherwise. For them it would be far easier to live this life as though physical death was final, the end of it all. And there would seem to be a certain courageousness, a certain honesty, about such a posture—not to mention, a certain consolation. When it’s over, it’s over, as Peggy Lee sang back in the 60’s:  

Oh, no, not me. I’m in no hurry for that final disappointment, 
for I know just as well as I’m standing here talking to you, 
when that final moment comes and I’m breathing my last breath,  
I’ll be saying to myself, 

“Is that all there is, is that all there is? 
If that’s all there is my friends, then let’s keep dancing. 
Let’s break out the booze and have a ball 
If that’s all there is…” 

As the ancient epitaph put it: “I was not. I was. I am not. I will not be. It matters not.” Now as well at then, whether you play it out narcissistically or altruistically, whether dissolutely or chastely … it just doesn’t matter.  

Scripture’s verdict, however, is to the contrary! Scripture’s judgment is that God made us and fashioned us in bodily form so that, in bodily form, we may dwell with him and know him forever. That means, by implication, each and every one of us will literally outlive this earth, in one form or another. As C. S. Lewis put it towards the end of his “Weight of Glory” sermon: “You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilization—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendours.” A Sadducean refusal of what is offered in that eternal destiny is damnably slothful. Scripture’s promise is infinitely, eternally, wonderfully more ennobling.    

This Advent, I pray that we will bask in a fresh realization of all that is promised in Jesus’s incarnation. He comes to humble us and convict us of every tendency to prideful self-worship. He comes, as well, to restore us to our true, fully human selves, and to usher us into an eternity of joyful fellowship with himself and with all the redeemed in a new earth and new heaven.  

Be blessed this day,  

Reggie Kidd+