As we continue our journey through Advent and towards Christmas, we have a scripture lesson this morning from the book of Baruch. Most of us know very little about the book of Baruch. I have never preached from it before. Baruch is a short book, only 5 chapters long, in what we refer to as to Apocrypha. The Apocrypha is a group of books that are placed between Old Testament times and New Testament times. The Roman Catholic Church has recognized these books as scripture, and therefore they are included in some Bibles. Protestant churches have acknowledged that these books are of historical value, and do contain valuable messages, but have not elevated them to the level of scripture.
Baruch is given credit for the authorship of the book. He is a companion of the prophet Jeremiah, and often serves as the recorder or secretary or personal assistant to Jeremiah. The first part of the book is pretty much historical narrative of the time during which Israel was in exile in Babylon and contains a confession of sins. The second part, which contains our text, is composed of two long poems dealing with comfort and restoration.
Picture the scene to which Baruch writes. You have been living in Israel, a country that you view as being a chosen land given to you as a chosen people, given to you by God. You imagine that it is implied that therefore God will protect you from whatever evil surrounds you. You picture that there are no threats to you from the nations around you. Why? Because God, who chose you and gave you this land, will protect you.
Then the Babylonians conquer your land and take you into exile. Essentially you become refugees living in a foreign land; not knowing if or when you will be able to return home. And you begin to question your faith. How did the Babylonians conquer you? Why didn’t God protect you from the Babylonians? Does that mean that God forgot about you? Or was there some great sin and the fall of your country, and your exile are punishments from God? God was with you in Israel. Is God even here in this foreign land of Babylon?
Some of your people, including you yourself, have been carried off into exile in Babylon. That was a typical method of operation for the Babylonians. When they conquered another country, they would take into exile the leaders, both religious and political, the wealthy, the business people, and anyone thought to have some form of power. They would leave the country devastated by war and without any leadership.
Yet, some of your people are still in Israel, not carried off into exile. Some are not refugees. But all those with wealth or power or education or authority were now in exile. You are promised that you will be able to return. But it is taking so long. We hear refugee stories today of the pain of refugees being separated from part of their families for a few years. Here the Jewish people were in exile for 70 years. It is taking so long to be able to go back home that they wonder if it will ever happen. Even if you are now in safety and have food and clothing and shelter, it still is so incredibly depressing that you are not home. You are still a refugee in a strange land.
In the midst of that depression, Baruch gives a message of hope. A lot of times when people are depressed, they look like it, dress like it, act like it. Baruch tells the people to take off the stuff that keeps them held down in their despair. And instead, dress in the dignity of God’s glory forever. Dressing in dignity, showing dignity, is virtually impossible when acting like one is downtrodden. It is not always possible to lift ourselves out of oppression as Baruch puts things. But he does give us some wonderful images.
I remember, as a small child, at my Grandma and Grandpa Justesen’s. On a cold and snowy day, we would go out and play in the snow. While we were out playing in the snow, Grandma would bake. When we got too cold and/or too wet we would come into the house. Grandma would have us sit right by the oven, which was hot from whatever cake or cookies she had made while we were outside. She would wrap each of us up in a quilt (we each got our own quilt because she figured my sister and I would fight over the quilt if we shared the same one) and give us each a mug of steaming hot chocolate, and some of what she had just baked. Wrapped in a quilt, the warmth felt wonderful. It was amazing. Baruch wants us to wrap the justice of God around us like a robe. Imagine that. A warmth, a comfort, a security, wrapped up in the justice of God. Not just a justice that just touches you, but one that wraps around you and you can hold tight to yourself.
Grandma made a quilt for me when I went to college. All the pieces were denim or corduroy or wool. They were pieces from work shirts and pants of Grandpa’s. The quilt weighed a ton, but sure was warm. She embroidered my name on it, at the top, right in the middle. It was one of a kind. And my name was there for all to see, for all to see that it was mine. It seems like everyone who came into our dorm room would ask about the quilt and the name embroidered on it. And I would tell them about the special quilt, the one with my name on it.
Do you like your name? Some people do. Some people don’t. Some people so dislike their name that they change it or refuse to use it. Some people have excellent reasons not to want to use their given name, like memories that are tied to the name. Or family connections with the name, connections that may be better forgotten.
In some traditions a name is given to a person after a life-changing experience. It may be a name given to someone at their baptism. It may be a name given after a vision quest of a native American tradition. It may be like a Roman Catholic tradition of giving a name to a woman when she takes vows as a nun. Here we have Baruch telling us that God will name us with a name by which we will be called forever. How special, how wonderful, that the creator of the universe took the time to give you, each of you, your own special name.
Baruch talks about a name that brings peace. A name that makes you and those around you feel peaceful and comfortable. And Baruch claims that such a peace only comes from the justice of God. And the gathering of those followers of God, rejoicing that God has remembered them.
We can buy into that idea, a justice from God that wraps us in the peace of God. Sounds wonderful. Many of the things that we do as a congregation and as individuals, are done to show God’s justice and peace to those in need in our community.
It would be nice if there were a couple magic words for us to say and that then, automatically we would see and live in that justice of God. It would be nice to just have God wave that divine hand of God and have justice and peace fill our world, fill our land, fill our very hearts.
But, unfortunately, it never seems to work that way. It seems that peace is something that we need to work for. It seems that justice is something that we need to work for. It can be hard work.
If you and I are not getting along, no matter what the cause, or no matter whose fault it is, to work for a peaceful solution and some justice and peace for each other is ideal, and difficult to achieve. When someone angers us, it is pretty easy to first think of how to retaliate, how to get revenge. Yet, when we react like that, we usually end up with revenge for our revenge and the cycle continues. We see that so often in world politics and wars. With Baruch, with Jesus, we are told and shown that the proper response to anyone, in any situation, is a response showing the love, the peace, the justice of God.
It is not always easy to do. People have been trying and failing at that for all of history. If we fail at it today, we just try again. Someday it will help. Someday, the hope and peace and justice that Baruch talks about will be ours. Maybe only for a short time. So, we keep trying live our lives showing that peace and justice, just maybe we will see it more and more often. We draw hope from that justice, from that peace. Amen.