Baruch & Dylan

Bob Dylan’s “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” adds a haunting depth to the tension between judgment and redemption in Baruch and the readings for the second Sunday of Advent. With its vivid and apocalyptic imagery, Dylan's song echoes the themes of prophetic judgment while also suggesting the possibility of renewal and transformation.

Baruch, John the Baptist in Luke’s Gospel, and Dylan confront us with the reality of a broken world in desperate need of change. Dylan’s cascading verses—“I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’,” “I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow,” and “I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken”—paint a tapestry of human suffering, violence, and moral decay. These images resonate with the people of Israel in Baruch’s time, mourning in exile, burdened by the consequences of injustice. They mirror John the Baptist’s call to repentance, urging us to recognize our part in the world’s brokenness.


The refrain, “A hard rain’s a-gonna fall,” can be seen as a metaphor for judgment. Written during the early 1960s, amid the Cold War and fears of nuclear annihilation, Dylan’s song speaks to any form of reckoning—natural, political, or spiritual. In the context of Baruch and Advent, it resonates with the biblical language of judgment. The “high mountains and everlasting hills” that must be made low symbolize the leveling power of God’s justice. The valleys filled with crooked paths made straight represent the upheaval required to prepare for God’s coming. The song and the scriptures remind us that judgment is inevitable—not as punishment, but as a precursor to redemption.


Yet, amid the bleak and disturbing imagery, there are glimmers of hope. The young girl who gives the narrator a rainbow, his commitment to tell and reflect on what he has seen—the song’s relentless drive forward suggests that even in despair, renewal is possible. This aligns with the redemptive vision in Baruch, where mourning is replaced with joy, and exile transforms into homecoming. The promise of redemption is cosmic: mountains are brought low, and the “light of God’s glory” guides the people back to peace. John’s fiery preaching in Luke leads to the ultimate promise that “all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”


In Dylan’s song, as in Baruch and Luke, the tension between judgment and redemption is palpable. Judgment names the truth. Dylan’s relentless catalog of suffering forces us to confront the reality of sin, injustice, and destruction. Advent calls us to repentance, acknowledging the brokenness in our hearts and the world. Redemption offers a vision of hope. The glimpses of beauty and resilience amid despair in Dylan’s song mirror the scriptures’ assurance that redemption is always possible. It’s not automatic or easy, but it’s there.


There’s an ethical challenge here. We’re reminded to “live God’s future today.” Dylan’s narrator, committed to sharing his vision and speaking the truth, exemplifies this challenge. Redemption isn’t just something we wait for; we actively participate in it by preparing the way for God’s kingdom.


Dylan's song “Hard Rain” is a cleansing flood—a purging that prepares the world for renewal. This echoes John the Baptist’s ministry, calling people to repentance and transformation. Dylan's and Advent's texts challenge us to ask: What in our world and lives must be swept away by this “hard rain”? How do we prepare ourselves and our communities for the coming of God’s justice and mercy?


Baruch and the readings for Advent remind us that judgment isn’t the end of the story. The rain is hard, but it brings renewal. The mountains are brought low, but the paths are made straight. Mourning gives way to joy, and exile is replaced by homecoming. These truths sustain us in the tension of Advent as we wait for God’s redemption.


In “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall,” Dylan’s narrator refuses to ignore the suffering he’s witnessed. He pledges to “tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,” taking up the prophetic mantle. Similarly, Advent challenges us to live prophetically:

• To name the world’s brokenness without flinching.

• To trust in God’s promise of redemption.

• To prepare the way for God’s justice and mercy in our hearts and the world.


Advent invites us to walk through the hard rain—not as passive spectators but as active participants in God’s redemptive work. Like Dylan’s narrator, we’re called to engage fully, living in the hope of God’s future even amid the storms.

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