“The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.”
-Isaiah 11:7

To be honest, I chose this verse because nobody else had selected it and it is raising my hackles as someone involved with conservation and animal rights.

The first part of the verse regarding the bear and the cow grazing reminds me of the 4 ½ years I spent living in Montana and hearing about grizzly bears being relocated for threatening a rancher’s livestock, especially in the Flathead Valley where my great-aunt lives. If it was a black bear, the rancher might shoot it, but grizzly bears are a protected species. Montana Fish & Wildlife had humane traps that are about the size of a U-Haul trailer, and they bait the traps so that the bears just go in there and have the door close behind them. The bear can then be relocated to an area where they will not cause harm to livestock.

The second part is probably what raises my hackles the most. I am involved with the Wildcat Sanctuary, a sanctuary that takes in large and small wildcats and hybrid cats from bad situations. Private situations can be some of the most damaging because the cats are usually not fed an appropriate diet, and it causes problems. One of the most common situations involves people illegally owning an African savanna cat called a serval. These cats, who look like Dr. Suess’s interpretation of a leopard, need a diet high in calcium during their formative years, and many of the servals at the sanctuary have fractures caused by metabolic bone disease as a result of not getting the proper diet. These private owners fed their cats the nutritional equivalent of straw instead of the raw meat diet that they needed. (If you would like more information on the Wildcat Sanctuary and their work, please click here.)

The image Isaiah is putting forth is one where the predator and its prey are coexisting peacefully next to each other, rather than one harming the other. We as humans are a significant contributor to the predator/prey issue as we build onto wildlands and displace wild animals as a result. Bears usually go after cattle because they are hungry, and the rancher has likely cleared the forestland that the bear would normally inhabit. People’s desire to “collect” wildlife contributes to the captive wildlife crisis that the Wildcat Sanctuary exists to remedy. One thing we can think about this Advent is where each of us fits into this situation.

Thank you, Lord, for groups like the Wildcat Sanctuary that seek to help creatures in bad situations. Amen.
-Jen McCabe

“The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.”
-Isaiah 11:6

Any time I think about the kingdom of God on Earth, the painting of “The Peaceable Kingdom” by the artist Edward Hicks comes to mind. To my slightly jaded eyes, there is almost something campy about that particular representation — not quite on par with “Dogs Playing Poker,” but in a similar hackneyed spirit.

And by the way, although we always give the lion top billing in that biblical reference, it is in fact a leopard that will lie down with a goat. The lion gets the calf and the yearling. Some misinterpretations wind up with greater credence than the truths they supplant. There’s a lot of that going around these days. Which is a shame, because the “peaceable kingdom” should be our rightful inheritance as Christians. Isaiah’s prophecy implies that it is incumbent upon us, whether we identify as wolves or sheep, lions or lambs, to embrace those who would seem completely inimitable to our wellbeing. It took the appearance of Jesus, the sacrificial lamb, to show us the way.

Lord, teach us loving-kindness that embraces those we would demonize, and help us to see that fear is a yoke that binds us in service to our worst instincts, while the love of Christ is what frees us to prepare for the kingdom of God on Earth. Amen.
-Michael Boss

“Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist, and faithfulness the belt around his loins.” -Isaiah 11:5

It seems my entire life has been devoted to losing weight. I started the year with a goal; I wanted to return to my college weight (and confess I’ve over half-way there). I have reached the final notch in my belt and will need to either cut a new notch sometime in the next few weeks or pray Santa will bring me a belt with a new set of notches I can begin playing with.

I used to wear both suspenders and belts (suspenders to keep the pants up and belt upon which to hang my cell phone holster), but a friend made fun of me. He said, “There is the sign of a man with absolutely no faith – wearing a belt and with suspenders!” So now I mostly wear just a belt. Yes, I was shamed into it (I ashamedly admit). Besides, I got tired of the suspender grips constantly coming unsnapped. I guess I just wasn’t built for suspenders – or they weren’t engineered to handle the stresses I put upon them. Either way, I buckled down, lost weight, and notched it as a victory in the end (or wherever).

It seems strange for Isaiah to mention belts, for the men of the middle east wear robes, and robes don’t require cinctures. On the other hand, they did need a place for tucking in their money bag or hanging their knife. This allowed them to keep their hands free for working the land, or testing merchandise being sold in the bazaars, or defending the flock from predators. Their belts enabled them to be safe and secure and to do right by friend and neighbor.

Advent, it seems, invites us to learn to let go and let God. It may be a season in which we live in suspense, but we are free to belt out those wondrous tunes that guide us toward the season of light and joy.

God, help me relax. Help me to know that you’ve got me covered. Help free up my hands that I may use them to Your glory, and to Your honor, and to the praise of Your Name. Amen.
-The Rev. Keith Axberg

“The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.”
-Isaiah 11:2

The story of Guadalupe features an Indian man 10 years after the Spanish conquest of southern Mexico, who encounters the Virgin. She sends him to the Spanish bishop to ask for a church to be built where she stands. As an Indian, he hardly has the social capital to talk to the bishop like that, and the bishop initially resists, but in the end, a miracle is wrought and the church is built. Over 500 years later the stone building still attracts thousands of pilgrims daily. It is not large or impressively decorated. It seems to gather up in its stones the memories of an encounter that stands society on its head.

The above passage refers to God’s chosen messenger who will establish just rule in Israel once more. In our day, perhaps we can see that messenger as the Indian man who obeyed the command of the Lady and forever colored the Hispanic experience of the faith. Battling against unjust social structures in the church, he nevertheless delivers the message and the church is built. The story still inspires people of indigenous and mixed-blood in Latin America. “If God talks to us through the divine mother and brings justice, we have hope.”

It remains to the powerful to surrender to the work of God and follow along. I am a white, male, American citizen. I am powerful. Like the bishop’s initial reaction, I can pull what I have to my bosom, fending off any who would chip away at it, or I can bend the power I have to serve what God is doing among powerless people. The story of Guadalupe places hope before the powerless and a challenge before the powerful.

Be present with your people, O God of liberation, and give us the strength to follow Juan Diego’s vision of Our Lady of Guadalupe to bend earthly power to the service of your Kingdom, through him who liberates us, your Son, our Lord who with you and the Holy Spirit, live and reign in glory everlasting. Amen.
-The Rev. Paul Moore

“A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.”
-Isaiah 11:1

It is perilous to be a young tree on Big Lake. The beaver makes regular rounds.

Years ago, I planted a Gravenstein apple tree. The beaver chewed it to a stump. New shoots grew. I put wire around the tree to protect it from the beaver’s teeth. The tree grew back, producing huge, juicy apples. Last winter the beaver climbed up the wire and pruned it again to a bare stump. This spring the injured stump sprouted a leaf. By the end of summer, it had several healthy new branches surrounded by a wide wire cage.

Out of an injured stump, new life springs.

Over and over again, the people of God were crushed. And new life sprang up.

Over and over again our lives, our hopes, our dreams get crushed to lifeless stumps.

I wonder: What happens in an injured tree root before new life springs forth?

What healing happens in us that allows new life to spring forth in us? What happens between grieving loss and the healing that allows new life to surprise us? What goes on in the between time?

What has been crushed in you that you are grieving? What helps you to heal? When have you been surprised by new life? Where is God in your grieving, healing and resting, waiting and watching? Advent asks us to be quiet, to rest, to watch, to wait. We do that in the promise that we are never alone; never without hope.

Gracious One, in whom we live and move and have our being, You see crushed stumps with love and hope. Hold us in our grieving, our resting, our healing. May we wait and watch with the assurance of your presence and in the hope of new life springing forth in the most surprising ways. Help us to become even more a healing, restoring, life-giving community to a world that needs your love. Amen.
-The Rev. Vicki Wesen