Not Today, Jackal

Advent 3, Year C (Isaiah 35:10; James 5:7-10; Matthew 11:2-11)

I’ve spent the week thinking about jackals. Jackals, a member of the canine family, are found in south-eastern Europe, across parts of southern Asia, and throughout Africa.  These small dogs look like a cross between a fox and a coyote. They’re fairly lightweight but are still known as fiercely protective of their territory and opportunistic eaters of anything available. The black-backed jackal of Africa has developed alongside the big cats of that continent, as well as wild dogs and hyenas, so it has fairly earned a tough reputation. 

 

When the Bible mentions jackals, it is not a favorable description. Jackals were particularly associated with lurking around burial caves or at the edges of battlefields. They were one of the first animals to move into abandoned regions, to make use of shelters for hiding, and to hunt for leftover scraps. 

 

Job says, “I go about in sunless gloom; I stand up in the assembly and cry for help. I am a brother of jackals and a companion of ostriches. My skin turns black and falls from me, and my bones burn with heat.” (30:28-30) Here the long-suffering man is noting that he lives among ruins, the scraps of his former life. Jackals and ostriches are associated with desolated places, untended after destruction. 

 

In Jeremiah, we read these words of the Lord, “I will make Jerusalem a heap of ruins, a lair of jackals, and I will make the towns of Judah a desolation, without inhabitant.” (9:11) These are part of the prophet’s warnings to the people of Judah, the southern kingdom, about what will happen in response to their unfaithfulness, a foretelling of the Babylonian captivity. 

 

While Jeremiah understands the jackals to be expected in response to poor behavior, the psalmist cries out, “Our heart has not turned back, nor have our steps departed from your way, yet you have broken us in the haunt of jackals and covered us with deep darkness. If we had forgotten the name of our God or spread out our hands to a strange god, would not God discover this?” (44:18-21a)

 

The references go on- in Ezekiel, in Lamentations, in Malachi, in other parts of Isaiah in addition to today’s verses from chapter 35. A comparison to jackals is never flattering. It is always either in lament (like Job), in condemnation (as in Lamentations), or observation of covenant breaking on the part of God’s people, which results in the desolation of beloved and holy places (Jeremiah, Isaiah, Malachi). 

 

Why am I thinking about jackals in the heart of the Advent season? In the middle of “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” and “Let there be peace on Earth” and “Fa-la-la-la-la-la”, I cannot stop thinking about lurking scavengers, waiting to move into abandoned territory, to pick through the scraps, and yip and howl at any who come close. 

 

In today’s reading from Isaiah (35:1-10), the jackals are both literal and metaphorical. The literal jackals are imagined as having taken over the ruins of Jerusalem after the people were carried away into Babylon. Even though not every single person was carried away in the exile, there was enough destruction and desolation for those who were to imagine the city being picked over by scavengers, gardens growing untamed, and pairs of jackals choosing territory among the crumbled walls of the first Temple and some of their homes. 

 

The metaphorical jackals were the ones that waited to prey upon their hopes of return. These thoughts and fears crept into minds and hearts and sought to make permanent homes in places of grief and loss. Jackals of doubt about God’s providence and mercy howled in the night, disrupting sleep and seeking the hearts of the faithful against the God who had always delivered them. 

 

These same metaphorical jackals prowl in James (5:7-10). The people of the Way of Christ have been waiting for Jesus to return. They want to continue to wait faithfully and yet, they can hear the howls in the distance of those who say their waiting is in vain. They sense the prowling pressure to yield to cultural demands- to worship the gods of Rome (it would be better for business) and to yield to gossiping and in-fighting with one another (making a desolation of the community). These jackals are fierce and cunning. They may not attack a robust community, but a weakened and dying one could be easy prey. James warns those who hear his words to be vigilant and strong in their trust in Christ’s promises. 

 

The jackal who was Herod Antipas had imprisoned John and the prophet sent messages through his disciples to Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” John the Baptizer has been strong in faith and still is. If Jesus isn’t the one, John isn’t telling his disciples to give up trusting in God. John’s message has been one of strength and courage in the face of powers and principalities. Even in prison and knowing he is likely to die, he does not make room for scavengers seeking scraps of power. 

 

Jesus tells John’s disciples to carry this message: Tell John all that is happening. The jackals are not moving in; things have not fallen to ruin. There is new life, there is flourishing. Healing and wholeness are being restored. This is not the night of the jackal; it is the day of the Lord.

 

This is not the night of the jackal; it is the day of the Lord. So said Isaiah to those in exile. 

 

This is not the night of the jackal; it is the day of the Lord. So said James to those waiting in the early church. 

 

This is not the night of the jackal; it is the day of the Lord. So say I to you. 

 

Yes, I know the economy is struggling. Yes, I know that we are divided politically into difficult and damaging ways. Yes, I know that wars seem endless and that leaders across the world seek to oppress, rather than to bring freedom. Yes, I know that cancer is real, that contagious illnesses are rampant, and that there are more people enslaved now across the globe than ever before in history. 

 

I know these things, but I am not resigned to them. I will not make space for the jackals of doubt about the presence of God and the ongoing real work of Divine Love. 

 

Yesterday, I picked up medicines for my daughter, medicines that help her live a perfectly normal life in the aftermath of a brain tumor. Yesterday, I went to an ordination- a blessing and commissioning of a new pastor in God’s own church in this present day and age. Yesterday, I did a hospital visit to someone who was receiving vital medication to save a major organ and I watched nurses and doctors take care to stop bleeding, bring healing, and restore hope. (Yes, I did all those things yesterday.) 

 

This is not the night of the jackal; it is the day of the Lord.

 

Our Advent hope is not a false hope; it is a blessed assurance anchored in the truth that the God who kept promises to Abraham and Sarah, to David, to the people to whom Isaiah spoke, to Mary and Joseph, to our own ancestors… a blessed assurance that the same God will keep promises to us. 

 

Our Advent joy is that we are not a desolation. We are not an abandoned people. We have the faithfulness and real presence of Christ, not only at the altar and the baptismal font, but in our daily lives in ways that are comprehensible in this life and in ways that we will not fully know until the next. 

 

Our Advent peace is the truth that God is still speaking, still working, still healing, still reforming, and still working the truth of resurrection, through the Holy Spirit, in this day and this place, and across all times and spaces. Our trust in God means that we are called and equipped to live each day, leaning on this promise, and refusing to give ground to opportunistic forces that seek to undermine the only Love and Life worthy of our full allegiance. 

 

In a time of shadows, there is light. There is hope. There is peace. There is joy. There is love. 

 

This is not the night of the jackal; it is the day of the Lord.

 

Amen.