Danielle Shroyer

Happy third week of Advent! This morning’s Moltmann Monday quote comes from Sun of Righteousness, Arise!. This is a great book for people new to Moltmann, and it’s written in a more conversational style than some of his other more theological works. The quote below comes at the beginning of a section on the Shekinah of God, which is one of Moltmann’s favorite concepts:

I should like to talk about both these things: about the Merciful One who shares our suffering, and about the Holy One who goes ahead of us and leads us to the eternal home of identity. But the presupposition for both these experiences of God is the descent and self-lowering of the Eternal One into our earthly and transitory world–the immanence of the transcendent God. Or in the words of the prophet Isaiah (57:15): ‘I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a humble and contrite spirit.’ It is not just for us that it is important to experience the nearness of God in what happens to us. It is important for God, too, for God wants to live among us and on this earth for ever and ever.”

Here’s something I love about Professor Moltmann- he doesn’t forget about God. That may sound strange to say, but I get the sense that many theologians get to talking so much about God-the-concept or God-the-idea or, heaven forbid, me-the-smart-theologian-talking-about-the-complexity-of-God-the-idea, that GOD actually gets lost in the shuffle. Moltmann has made great contributions to theology because he doesn’t forget to ask the question, “What does this mean for GOD?”

In Advent, we spend most of our time talking about what it means for us that God became human and lived among us. And that is right and good, because it is mind-boggling and beautiful and the biggest and strangest gift we could imagine. As we enter these last two weeks of Advent, I wonder if we could also remember to consider what this means for God. I like to think that God becoming immanent even in God’s transcendence is something God has anticipated eagerly because it brings to fruition something intrinsic about who God IS. And at Christmas, this immanence of God becomes known to us in a way that it wasn’t before. That’s good news for us–but let’s not forget it’s good news for God, too.

Hope all of you had a good Thanksgiving! Moltmann Monday is back with an excerpt from a Theology Today article on children, childhood and hope. Here’s a snippet:

The child, whose birth and whose future reign of peace devoid of violence and war Isaiah announced (chapters 9,11), is the “Son of David.” He is a descendant of David, endowed with the dignity of the chosen King David. Just as David conquered Jerusalem, making it the capital of Israel, the future “Son of David” will redeem Israel (from the Babylonian exile) and will rebuild Jerusalem. Most important, the coming “Son of David” will fulfill the prophet Nathan’s ancient promise to David: “I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come forth from your body, and I will establish his kingdom forever.” (2 Sam 7:12-13)  The promised “Son of David” is the messianic king for which Israel is hoping.

The hopes placed upon him do, however, explode all (historical) limits: “he will raise up the poor of the land,” he will “bring justice to the peoples,” and he will sow peace between humans and animals: “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fading together, and a little child shall lead them” (Isa 11:1-11). While this messianic hope exceeded all of life’s experiential limits, it was conceived during the time of the Babylonian exile, at Israel’s “ground zero.” From the very beginning, it was part of Israel’s traditions of hope.  [Abraham and Sarah's] promise brought into history an orientation towards the future, replacing the eternal return of the same in nature religions. Children were no longer merely included in the powers of origin through the veneration of the ancestors, but the generations were now aligned towards children as the carriers of hope and as signs of the steadfastness of the God of promise.

The hopes placed on the messianic child explode all limits. I love the imagery that conjures in my head, like an electric wire exploding from too much energy and making a fireworks show that lights up the night. I also appreciate that these hopes are beyond rational, really. They are not something most people walk around and assume. To have Advent hopes means to be willing to explode our limits of what is possible. Through this one promise, this one vulnerable human child, the whole world carries a new kind of hope for the future.

From a Moltmann sermon on Isaiah 9:

All the images the prophet uses to paint the possible future point to one fact: the birth of the divine child. The burning of the weapons, the jubilation and the great light are all caught up in the birth of God’s peace-bringer. They are all to be found in him. Now the prophet stops talking in intoxicating images and thrilling comaprisons, and comes to the heart of the matter: the person of the divine liberator. ‘To us a child is born. To us a son is given.’…

The kingdom of peace comes through a child, and liberation is bestowed on the people who become as children: disarmingly defenseless, disarming through their defenselessness, and making others defenseless because they themselves are so disarming.  After the prophet’s mighty visions of the destruction of all power and the forceful annihilation of all coercion, we are now suddenly face to face with this inconspicuous child.

-The Power of the Powerless, page 33.

You guys, this is one of my absolute favorite phrases: the disarming child.  As with many other Moltmannian phrases, it feels like there is a UNIVERSE of meaning in there.  I could just wander around in there forever, like the world’s biggest and most wonderful nature preserve.  The child who has been born to us is, perhaps more than anything else, if using just one word to sum the whole thing up, disarming.  Isn’t every story about Jesus like that?!  This baby born in a stable in some know-nothing town, this toddler who is visited by astrologers from a different country, this child who baffles all the experts at the Temple with his wisdom, the man who tells us parables that make us scratch our heads and squirm and feel hopeful and inspired sometimes all at the same time, this person who goes into Jerusalem when everyone thinks he’s going to take over the throne and he submits himself to die instead.

In the midst of  a world of strife and aggression, we find ourselves face to face with this inconspicuous child.  And we find ourselves completely disarmed- emotionally, mentally, rationally, literally.  We drop our weapons and take up shovels because we just can’t imagine doing anything else after seeing the face of this child.

If I had to say in one simple sentence why it is that I follow Jesus, despite all the evidence to the contrary, despite all the very understandable arguments, despite all my doubts, it is this:  I follow him because he is the most disarming person I have ever encountered.  Disarming because he puts me off kilter just enough for me to feel a deep need for transformation; because he makes me question the finality of the reality and see and begin to wonder about the reality that could be possible; disarming because even at my most defensive, I find myself in a posture that is properly receptive, or at the very worst, that will be eventually receptive.  I am won over by this deep disarming love.  I am bowled over and blown away by it.  And it’s Advent, so I feel it’s less awkward for me to say that with a little more gusto than usual.  Unto us this disarming child is born, and the world will never be the same.

Happy Advent, everyone!  And what better to kick off this first Monday of Advent than a little Moltmann messianic theology?

The messiah will come when it is possible because the way has been prepared for him.  This is the advice of the prophets (Isaiah 40).  Prepare the way for the Lord! Repent! Arise, shine! Lift up your heads! The messiah does not come unheralded.  He lets the gospel, through which he announces himself, go ahead of his coming…This does not mean that good deeds bring the messianic redemption any closer; still less does it mean that good deeds are themselves the messianic redemption. But it does mean that hope for the coming of the messiah will already be messianically active here and now.

To prepare the way for the messiah means living in the light of Advent and, together with this world, becoming open for his coming.  It means anticipating his coming in knowing and doing.  It means ‘now already’ putting forth all our powers, in order, if we can, to let something become visible of the redemption of all things, which the messiah will perfect in his days.

-The Way of Jesus Christ, page 25

As I have said before, and as I said last night at Journey, Advent is a time of joyful anticipation.  This is why I’m an advocate of blue Advent rather than purple Advent.  Advent is not Lent, people.  We will do all that sorrow and suffering bit up right starting on Ash Wednesday.  For Advent, we will instead hang lights and greenery everywhere and light candles and sing songs of hope.  It is our sole responsibility this season to prepare the way, to put forth all our powers to let the light of Christ become visible.  There is no doubt that this is a difficult job.  Life is hard, the holidays are hard, the world is complicated.  (I confront this head-on over at The Hardest Question.)  But it is our job to hope.  And it is our job to put forth all our powers to make the light of Christ visible in this dark world.  As Walter Benjamin said, “Every second can be the little door through which the messiah can enter.”  We have a lot of seconds between now and Christmas.  How can we use them to prepare the way?