Faithful Exiles

Exile is one of the big themes of Advent. You’ll remember the great Advent hymn we sang last week. "O come, o come Emmanuel and ransom captive Israel that mourns in lonely exile here." It’s hard for me to imagine what exile would really be like. None of us here has ever been forced into exile, at least not in the political sense. I’ve known of people who voluntarily left their homelands in search of opportunity, but that’s not exile. And when I was a girl I think I imagined that every resident of a communist country was being forcibly held inside. Even if that was true, and even though it is wrong, it’s not exile. The whole idea that someone could be forced away, forced into exile away from their homeland, from their heartland, is an experience that I really find very hard to internalize, to understand.

Listen to this passage from the Second Book of Kings. "At that time [ca. 598 B.C.] the servants of King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon came up to Jerusalem, and the city was besieged. King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon came to the city, while his servants were besieging it; King Jehoiachin of Judah gave himself up to the king of Babylon, himself, his mother, his servants, his officers, and his palace officials. The king of Babylon took him prisoner in the eighth year of his reign. He carried off all the treasures of the house of the Lord, and the treasures of the king’s house; he cut in pieces all the vessels of gold in the temple of the Lord, which King Solomon of Israel had made… He carried away all Jerusalem, all the officials, all the warriors, ten thousand captives, all the artisans and the smiths; no one remained, except the poorest people of the land. He carried away Jehoiachin to Babylon; the king’s mother, the king’s wives, his officials and the elite of the land, he took into captivity from Jerusalem to Babylon. The king of Babylon brought captive to Babylon all the men of valor, seven thousand, the artisans and the smiths, one thousand, all of them strong and fit…" (2Kings 24:10-16).

This was the first deportation of the Hebrew people to Babylon. Two more would follow. Not only were the Jews defeated in war; they were forced into exile. And the temple, the icon of their identity as the people of God, was plundered and destroyed. The people of God became exiles.

I will say again that it is impossible, or at least nearly impossible, for me to imagine what it would be like to be forced into exile. But I think that is exactly what we need to do during Advent. I think we need not just imagine, but actually move, into exile. Us.  We need to become exiles.

Walter Brueggemann is one of today’s leading Old Testament scholars. He provides some fascinating commentary on today’s reading from Isaiah. "The text from Isaiah 40 meets the listener in the midst of exile. These are Jews who have been deported to Babylon, forced to live under an alien regime and to accept its notions of reality. But it is not Babylonian pressure which makes all this exile. What makes the people exiles is that they refuse to assimilate, refuse to accept Babylon as home, refuse to credit Babylonian authority. Exile as a religious condition is not the result of oppression. Exile is a product of faith, deep faith which refuses to settle and which plants a yearning for homecoming."

By their refusal to assimilate to the culture around them, the people chose to become exiles. By their refusal to grant authority in their lives to the cultural reality around them, the people chose to become exiles. By their refusal to bow to the "false regimes" around them, the people chose their own exile. It is because of their faith, their deep faith, that their home is in God alone, that they became exiles in Babylon. Exile as a religious condition is not caused by oppression or military might; it is the result of faith. It is the choice of faithful people.

Isaiah’s words are spoken to people in exile. If we are not exiles, we cannot hear them. Actually, if we are not exiles, we do not need Isaiah’s words. Why would someone care whether or not a great highway will be built through the desert if she is already comfortably settled at home with no desire to go anywhere? And how would someone hear the cries of John the Baptist in the wilderness if he is already sitting in his favorite chair with his favorite drink and his favorite TV show turned up loud? Unless we become exiles this Advent, Christmas Day will mean nothing.

Becoming exiles doesn’t necessarily mean giving up TV (although I will say that I did that one Lent and was definitely the better for it). And becoming religious exiles doesn’t have anything to do with leaving American soil. The Advent journey into exile is about what Brueggemann calls our "great refusal." It is our faithful refusal to acknowledge any authority in our lives other than God. It is about "just saying no" to anything that seduces us away from God. It is about our great refusal to be assimilated by, to be controlled by, the peer pressure of the culture around us. Becoming exiles is about firmly and unashamedly claiming our faith, our identity as Christians, in the midst of a very secular society.

We do not have a great deal of historical data from the time of the Babylonian exile, but evidently life in Babylon wasn’t all that bad. The Jews were not persecuted and had considerable material opportunity. Many took advantage of that opportunity. It was easier and more comfortable to become Babylonians, to become assimilated, perhaps marry and settle there and assume Babylonian customs and religion. Why not just accept Babylon’s notions of reality and get on with life as best you can? But others faithfully chose to remain exiles, proclaiming their identity as the people of God, and clinging to their traditions and worship as best they could in that foreign land.

We face the same choice.

Every time we let someone else’s opinion of us govern our actions rather than our identity as Christians, we allow culture to assimilate us. For example: This time of year we hear and say, "Merry Christmas" all the time, and it’s nice. But what we really mean is "Have a nice day," or "Hope you have a nice vacation." If we are to become exiles, what we need to say is something like what John the Baptist says. "Prepare the way of the Lord," or "May the Savior’s birth bring you God’s blessing this Christmas." Could you write that, in your own hand, on Christmas cards to your co-workers or neighbors? Could you say it to the cashier at Shop ‘n Save? It’s such a little thing, but it's not easy, is it? Cultural peer pressure is strong. But what’s the risk really? Someone might recognize us as Christians, Christian exiles in a secular world.

Another way to look at culture’s control, culture’s authority over us, is to look through our checkbooks. To whom do you write checks? What for? Every time I write that check to Adelphia, I feel enslaved. I have not found the strength to break free of that slavery, but it bothers me. Where and how we spend our money says much about who we are, what we value, what has authority in our lives. If someone were to find your checkbook lying on the sidewalk, would they be able to tell that you are a Christian? In the culture in which we live, success and satisfaction are all wrapped up in things, in what we have. One way to become an exile this Advent might be to give something up, like cable. Or give something away. Or sell something and give the money to a Christian charity. Not something you were going to put in the next white elephant sale. Something that has more control over your life than God does.  I've just begun to think about this in my own life, but I've decided to write a check for twice my Advent cable bill and send it to Episcopal Relief and Development.  It's a start.

As Christians, what we do is much more important than what we have.  If someone were to find your calendar on the sidewalk, would they be able to tell that you are a Christian?  One way to become a Christian exile this Advent is to add something--yes, add something in the midst of this busy season--that is Christian.  Even if it's just Advent prayers around the dinner table.

It is hard to be an exile. But remember it is not just about turning away from culture’s enticements; it is about turning towards God’s blessings. It’s not just that self-sacrifice will make us better people. It’s about being who we really are—Christians. Being an exile is not just about giving things up; it is about yearning for those things that only God can give. Yearning. Yearning for our homecoming to God. Yearning. And in the midst of our yearning, a voice in the wilderness cries out, "Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low… Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good tidings; lift up your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings, lift it up, do not fear; say to the cities of Judah, ‘Here is your God! And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed."

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