Lenten Calendar: Releasing Captives

Today’s lectionary text from Isaiah 42 describes the Lord’s chosen servant and the gentle and faithful justice he will mete. In verse 7, God charges him:

You will give sight to the blind,
                bring prisoners out of prisons,
                    and bring those who live in darkness
                        out of dungeons. (God’s Word Translation)

Jesus preached his first sermon on the first bit of Isaiah 61, and made it clear that he was that selfsame chosen servant. This is Jesus’s “life verse:”

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me,
Because the Lord has anointed Me
To preach good tidings to the poor;
He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives,
And the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord (Isaiah 61:1-2a, NKJV)

In exegeting another text referring to this “acceptable time” of salvation, Paul makes it clear that we are also called to be the Lord’s servants, and NOW is the acceptable time (2 Corinthians 6:1-2). God’s favor is ongoing and we are to preach this same good news. And you know what?

There’s never been a better time to set some captives free.

I realize this feels like wading into the political, but the gospel does that sometimes. Sorry. I’m just a messenger.

Honestly, though, I think we might have more common ground here than we’re told we do. We all have to reconcile in our theologies the Biblical images of radical forgiveness and “eye for an eye” consequences. We might lean ideologically toward one end or the other of that spectrum, but we can generally agree that that is the spectrum. Punishments should fit the crime. We can support a correctional system, but not institutionalized cruelty. We seek peace and justice, not perpetuating cycles of violence and vengeance.

Any one of us could think of any number of crimes that could land a person in prison, but that don’t warrant the kind of Russian roulette to which mass confinement in a time of Covid-19 has now sentenced them.

Likewise, any one of us could think of detained populations that don’t deserve to be in heightened danger. Not all of them get as much air time as nursing home residents and cruise ship passengers, but they’re often in even tighter quarters, and in less control of crucial practices of basic hygeine. Political prisoners. Asylum-seekers. Hurting people caught in possession of drugs. Folks guilty of, or simply accused of, misdemeanorsPsychiatric patients committed “for their own safety” and youth remanded to juvenile detention “for their own good.” People in jail as part of “due process,” not as the result of it.

Let’s advocate for them. Demand their release. Sponsor them. Post bail for them. Write a letter on behalf of political prisoners. Request house arrest rather than solitary confinement for an inmate with a medical condition. At least make sure they have soap. Pray for them:

prisoners exercising van gogh

“Prisoners Exercising” by Vincent van Gogh

I call for you cultivation of strength in the dark.
Dark gardening
in the vertigo cold.
in the hot paralysis.
Under the wolves and coyotes of particular silences.
Where it is dry.
Where it is dry.
I call for you
cultivation of victory Over
long blows that you want to give and blows you are going to get.

Over
what wants to crumble you down, to sicken
you. I call for you
cultivation of strength to heal and enhance
in the non-cheering dark,
in the many many mornings-after;
in the chalk and choke.

 — “To Prisoners” by Gwendolyn Brooks

 

Lenten Calendar: Telling

This week’s lectionary readings play with the conceit of the rock that Moses struck to provide the newly liberated Israelites with fresh “living” water. “Strike the rock,” God says, “and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink.” Moses did so, in the sight of the elders of Israel. He called the place Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarreled and tested the LORD, saying, “Is the LORD among us or not?” (Exodus 17:6b-7)

“Is the LORD among us or not?” seems like a perfectly reasonable and non-rhetorical question. Some questions are mysteries to sit with and ponder, invitations to meditation, but this is the kind of question that demands an answer. It’s one that God answers when asked, even when the answer isn’t what the people expected. It’s one that Jesus answers even when he’s not asked. God wants us to know joy in “the rock of our salvation” (Psalm 95:1), and hope “because God’s love has been poured into our hearts” (Romans 5:5), and then to pass on this knowledge. Jesus tells the woman at the well that if she “knew the gift of God” she would have approached him asking for a drink, instead of the other way around (John 4:10). He tells her that this living water will become in those that drink it “a spring of water gushing up to eternal life” (John 4:14). Then he tells her everything she’s ever done and who he is, and she tells everyone else.

She and they and we become springs fed by the source: the rock that was struck.

In uncertain times, Gwendolyn Brooks names our desire to just be told what to do to so that everything will be okay. At first the answers given seem equally simplistic. Wear your boots [read: wash your hands!] and you won’t get sick! But then at some point — I’m not sure which point; I imagine it’s subjective by design — the simplistic answers seem to acquire a simple wisdom and move from the immediate to the important, from the actionable to the true and actual.

brooks teller

“One Wants a Teller in a Time Like This” by Gwendolyn Brooks   –  photo by Jenn Cavanaugh

[I couldn’t help but notice that not even the famous poets and poems are secure]