Daniel 6:6-27 and Psalm 126
November 29, 2020
Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood
First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS
Friends, we’ve almost made it to December. 2020 has only been 5,689 days long, you know, so this feels like a bit of an accomplishment.
I’ve noticed that a lot of people have put up their Christmas lights early this year and I assume it’s because many of us are craving the warm fuzzy feelings December can bring.
The wonder of seeing a Christmas tree through a child’s eyes. The joy of telling stories about Christmases past around a table with family and friends. The deep peace we feel when the house grows quiet on Christmas Eve and we stand for a moment in front of the nativity and give thanks for the gift of Jesus.
Of course, December isn’t always warm and fuzzy.
Family relationships can be strained. The season can bring stress and grief. There are years when we sing Silent Night but don’t feel the Spirit move. This year brings additional pain as many of us won’t be gathering with our families, won’t be gathering in our churches, won’t be returning to our well-loved traditions. There will be empty chairs at many holiday gatherings this year. And so many feel weighed down by economic insecurity and anxiety about the future.
Regardless of how we feel as we head into December, God stands alongside us ready to walk alongside us as a new church year begins. Today we welcome the season of Advent. A season of waiting, watching, wondering. We know that Christ is arriving yet again and we do our best to prepare our hearts to receive the gift. For many, Advent is a contemplative time. A time for stillness and quiet. A time for introspection and making space for God’s still, small voice.
And so it seems odd to me that the scripture text this first Sunday in Advent is…..Daniel. In the lions’ den.
After all, this is decidedly NOT a quiet or contemplative text. It’s a big, roaring story full of tension and drama. The whole book of Daniel is like that, actually. Made for the big screen. Not at all peaceful or quiet. What an odd way to begin the season of Advent.
If you’ve had a chance to pick up a copy of this year’s Advent Devotional, you already know that this year’s theme is “Those Who Dream.” We are invited to dream alongside God….to make space for the Spirit to move within our hearts and inspire us to faithful action here and now. In 2020.
Daniel is a dreamer. Well, more accurately, an interpreter of dreams. The book that bears his name is a collection of stories and apocalyptic visions set in the time of the Babylonian Exile. At the beginning of the book, Israel is conquered by the Babylonian Empire and a character named Daniel is taken away from Jerusalem along with a few other young Jews. The rest of the book follows Daniel as he makes his way in a foreign land. Early on, he interprets a king’s dreams and, in this way, makes a name for himself. You might be hearing echoes of another dreamer, Joseph, who also had to learn how to survive in a foreign land and did so by interpreting dreams and serving in positions of authority in the local government.
The story also echoes the Book of Esther - another story about a faithful Jew living in a foreign land and trying to stay true to her own identity and faith while labeled as an outsider.
These are stories about how to hold on to our identity and faith when the world around us seems to be going a different direction. We can imagine all of these characters looking at their surroundings and saying, “How can I fit in here?” and wondering a bit about how the dominant culture seemed so very different from their own values. Anyone who has looked at the world around them and shaken their heads, thinking, “I just don’t understand why everyone else thinks X” or “I’m tired of feeling like the only person who believes Y” has a kindred spirit in Daniel, Joseph, and Esther.
When we feel out-of-sync with the dominant culture surrounding us, stories like Daniel’s remind us that we aren’t alone. We stand in a long line of faith ancestors who struggled to stay faithful when it would have been much easier to just go with the flow of the world around them.
How do we find the strength we need to hold tight to our faith when the going gets really, really tough? Most of us won’t find ourselves in literal lions’ dens, of course, but we all face adversity at one time or another.
The psalmist has a thing or two to teach us about this, it seems. These ancient prayers often recount the wondrous things God has done...and they also don’t shy away from being honest about how intensely difficult it can be to just be a human sometimes. Prayer after ancient prayer pours forth praise...and many of them also complain bitterly about the struggles and challenges inherent to the human condition.
Psalm 126, which we heard today is labeled as “a song of ascents.” We’re not 100% sure why some of the psalms are given this title, but it’s probably because they were meant to be prayed on the way to the temple in Jerusalem...prayed while ascending to Jerusalem to seek a connection with God there.
I like that image of ascending to Jerusalem right now, at the beginning of Advent. 2020 has been such a long and difficult year. Advent presents an opportunity for us to intentionally connect with the Holy. To pause and make space for contemplation and quiet. Perhaps this year it will be easier than usual to do that. Without the typical frenzy of parties and Black Friday shopping and houseguests, maybe, just maybe we will all be able to be fully present with Advent this year. Perhaps in 2020 we can make space to listen for God more intently and tap into the beauty of God’s dreams. Because God is the one who is always dreaming alongside creation. God dreamed the world into being, faithfully weaves new dreams alongside humanity, and promises to dream alongside us forever and ever...world without end...Amen.
The psalmist knows about this dreaming God who was present, is present, and promises to be with us always. Because Psalm 126 is about who God has been in the past and who God will be in the future. It begins with joy and celebration, praising God for all that’s already taken place:
When God restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy.
Then it was said among the nations, “God has done great things for them!”
God has done great things for us. And we rejoiced.
You can almost hear echoes of Daniel’s story, Joseph’s story, Esther’s story there can’t you? Shouts of joy because of God’s faithfulness. Laughter and celebration because God is a God of restoration. The One who is able to turn tears into rejoicing. The One who will not forsake us, even when the waters threaten to overwhelm. The One who is with us always - Emmanuel.
But the psalmist doesn’t pray this prayer from a place of ease and comfort. The psalmist proclaims God’s steadfast faithfulness during a time of challenge. Because the end of the psalm is a begging kind of prayer:
Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like the watercourses in the Negeb.
May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy.
Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing,
Shall come home with shouts of joy carrying their sheaves.
A dear friend of mine posted on Facebook earlier this week her own brief psalm. She testified about where she’s found herself this year….the challenges of balancing work, life, love, parenting all in the midst of 2020. And she gave thanks for God’s unfailing presence in it all. She said, “God partners with me. I am a partner of God. Hallelujah and Amen.”
In her words, I saw a vision of these ancient, weary travelers on the road to Jerusalem. They, too, sing of a God who has already restored...while begging for God to restore once again. Can you see them each carrying their heavy burdens as they climb the hill? Maybe the traveler up in front walks with a spring in her step, but you also notice the creases of worry in her forehead. The young person bringing up the rear is a little bowed over...you can almost see that they’re feeling the weight of the world on their shoulders.
Their worries were probably not so different than ours...or Daniel’s or Joseph’s or Esther’s. They worried about the health of loved ones. They wondered how they would pay their bills. They lost sleep over children - babies and toddlers and adults. They felt deep sorrow over griefs big and small….lost loved ones, lost opportunities, lost dreams. They carried the heavy burdens of chronic mental and physical health problems. They felt lonely, left out. They wept over the injustice and cruelty they witnessed. They looked at the work that was theirs to do and felt they weren’t up for the task. They obsessed over their failures and hardly noticed when they got things right. Some of them suffered real and true persecution…..some were survivors of unimaginable horrors, violence, abuse, trauma. They tried to figure out how to forgive those who had hurt them….and how to make amends with those they had hurt.
Can you see them now? All those many many centuries ago as they climb the hill to Jerusalem? I can’t quite make out their faces, but, oh, I can see their hearts with the eye of my own heart.
They went along singing songs of joy to Emmauel - God with us - even in their time of deep anguish and pain. They sang that ancient song that my friend was singing earlier this week, “God partners with me. I am a partner of God. Hallelujah and Amen.”
You know, we aren’t privy to what Daniel did when he was in the lion’s den overnight, but I imagine he may have had a similar song on his lips, too:
Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like the watercourses in the Negeb.
May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy.
Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing,
Shall come home with shouts of joy carrying their sheaves.
When God restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy.
Then it was said among the nations, “God has done great things for them!”
God has done great things for us. And we rejoiced.
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