Advent 3: Mixed Messages for Those on the Margins

Today is Gaudate Sunday, the day we light the pink candle on the Advent wreath. This signals a slight lift in the penitential mood during our time of anticipation and preparation. Notwithstanding the running jokes about pink vestments or the lack thereof, this sort of acts as a deep breath before the frenzy of the holiday itself and offers a time for envisioning our hopes for the coming kindom.

Since we are beginning year A we read Isaiah 35: 1-10 today, a passage that is usually seen as an expression of pure joy and hope. It opens with an image of the wilderness being transformed into a lush homeland and envisions a mighty God coming to similarly transform the weak and feeble. It ends with the promise of a joyful community untouchable by sorrow or suffering. Generally, this is read as an image of God triumphant, championing the downtrodden. What’s not to love?

And yet, this image leaves me unsatisfied. I understand the intent of the author, offering hope to those in exile or bondage, and I do my best to enter into the spirit of this message, but there is still something that leaves me unsettled about this reading. I am initially made uneasy by the use of the word “unclean” to identify those who will not be allowed access to the holy road to paradise. The use of this term sets up a contrast between those who are worthy of redemption and those who are not, pointing to cleanness or purity as the defining factor in God’s judgment. The problem is that purity codes have long been used as weapons within the various traditions to exclude the undesirable while maintaining the moral superiority of those who fit in, i.e. “God’s people”.

It would be easy to gloss over this term and dismiss it as being limited to ancient Judaism or as being a relic of the specific context during which this scripture was written, and I could consider such an intellectual exercise to have a great deal of validity, but I also trust my own instincts. My visceral reaction to this reading is to feel that it is fraudulent for me to claim these promises for myself because I am gay, and as such, not included in the ranks of “God’s people”. It is sad that, even though I have the intellectual tools to combat such hateful thinking and the will to do so, I am still so haunted by the voices of my Baptist past that I cannot easily embrace the hope offered by the prophet.

Purity codes are not dead. They are alive and well and causing lots of problems in the modern world at this very moment. I am sensitized to how purity ideals and language are used to perpetuate the marginalization of the LGBTQ population. I am also witness to how this kind of thinking is still so entrenched that many would rather destroy their own denominations than embrace “unclean” queer folk as children of God. Just look at the ongoing conflict within the global Anglican Communion and the unfolding saga of the United Methodist Church.

There is one other problem with reading this passage as a message of hope for the marginalized. Following the standard trope of much redemption imagery, there is a long list of how things will be reversed for the marginalized and they will be given what they lack. The blind will be given sight. The weak will be given strength. Even the dry ground will be given water. On the surface this appears to offer a basis for hope, but does it?

In seminary I had a classmate who is profoundly deaf. He was, and remains, quite eloquent about how this aspect of his life has affected him. He does not see his deafness as a disability, nor does he consider himself to be lacking anything. He does not need to be able to hear to be a complete and healthy person, and as such he is not in need of healing in the traditional sense. His journey has led him to embrace his deafness as a gift from God, and his ministry is to help other folks who are deaf or hearing impaired to find a similar peace.

Getting to know him and learning his perspective gave me a greater awareness of how the imagery in this reading can actually rob the marginalized of hope. The reversal trope defines the marginalized by what makes them different. The need for a reversal of that difference before they can be included as part of “God’s people” who will be allowed on the holy highway reinforces that difference as bad. So, while the image is meant to offer hope for change it also defines the marginalized as incomplete and unworthy while their “lack” remains. It also limits their possibility for hope to hope for a miracle from God in some vague and distant future. Nowhere are they offered the hope of acceptance as they are in the here and now, hope for dignity, hope for empowerment. The hope in this passage is based solely in a rejection of the current situation. The reversals that are used to offer hope do not offer a vision of a better world, rather they just undo the perceived evil of what makes someone different while maintaining that difference as evil. Instead of envisioning a world where the deaf can hear how might we envision a world where the deaf can embrace the gift of deafness and are honored for the unique perspective this difference gives them?

I began this meditation by wondering, as I listened to the reading this morning in church, if I could rewrite the beautiful poetry of this passage in a way that it did not exclude people because of difference. I recognize that this passage is an artistic creation and that the use of contrast is an effective way of highlighting certain things as being important. Would we recognize the shine of brilliance without the contrast of shadows? Is it possible to claim favor from God or sanctify wholeness without identifying others as being condemned or incomplete? This is a real challenge for a creative person like me and I have no answer. All I have is a recognition that this seemingly simple and uplifting passage has a darker side as well.