Sunday, December 7, 2014

Waiting For Peace (Advent 2, Isaiah 40:1-11)


Waiting For Peace from Joseph Taber on Vimeo.


Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13
1LORD, you were favorable to your land; you restored the fortunes of Jacob.
2You forgave the iniquity of your people; you pardoned all their sin. Selah

8Let me hear what God the LORD will speak, for he will speak peace to his people, to his faithful, to those who turn to him in their hearts.
9Surely his salvation is at hand for those who fear him, that his glory may dwell in our land.
10Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet; righteousness and peace will kiss each other.
11Faithfulness will spring up from the ground, and righteousness  will look down from the sky.
12The LORD will give what is good, and our land will yield its increase.
13Righteousness will go before him, and will make a path for his steps.

This is the Word of the LORD
Thanks be to God

Isaiah 40:1-11
1Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. 2Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the LORD’s hand double for all her sins.

3A voice cries out:”In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. 4Every valley shall be lifted up and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. 5Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.”

6A voice says, “Cry out!” And I said, “What shall I cry?” All people are like grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field. 7The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the LORD blows upon it; surely the people are grass. 8The grass withers and the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever. 9Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good tidings, lift up your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings, lift it up, do not fear; say to the cities of Judah, “here is your God!” 10See, the LORD GOD comes with might, and his arm rules for him; his reward is with him, and his recompense before him. 11He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.

This is the Word of the LORD
Thanks be to God.

Grampa, my Mom’s Dad, was a musician. He had beautiful high tenor voice, and he used it to the glory of God every chance he got. Perhaps that’s why I cannot read this passage without hearing Handle’s Messiah ringing in my ears. “Comfort Ye, Comfort ye my people…” There’s a comfort in these words that, for me, is literally familiar. It’s the warmth of a crowded, messy house full of laughter and music and noise and wrapping paper that is either rent and scattered or carefully folded and saved for next year. It’s the comfort of tradition and gathered family, the assurance of that one tradition that makes Christmas feel like Christmas. It’s the release of chronic anxiety that we didn’t even know was holding us down until we felt it melt away into the overstuffed furniture of the family living room.

We need Isaiah’s words of peace, “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the LORD’s hand double for all her sins.” Even in Advent, there are plenty of reasons for worry. We have the promise of God-with-us; we are expectant. Our deliverer is on the way, but the peace and justice that accompanies our Lord is yet unborn. “Comfort, O comfort my people…”

But we do not all need comfort from the same thing. I don’t need comfort from invading armies that could at any moment burst into my home and drag my family off to who-knows where. The Judah to whom Israel preached lived in exile in Babylon, and were oppressed by their captors. Many people in the Middle East still have to fear an invading army kicking in their door, where the so-called Islamic State inflicts violence without reason. Elsewhere in the Middle East, Palestinian Christians have to get permission from another country to travel from one town to another, even if they just want to visit the town where Christ was born. But that is not the comfort I need.

I need comfort from the nagging question, “Am I walking into a trap?” Inexperienced as I am, I sometimes expect a scolding when I walk into a meeting, just because I’ve gotten a few of them over my years of ministry. Sometimes I have deserved it, and I’m sure I will deserve it again. Those are not as hard, because I can kind of see them coming. Other times, though, I’ve walked in and been blindsided by what felt to me like undeserved and un-constructive criticism. I need comfort when I’m vulnerable, because I’ve been hurt by folks who matter to me. But that’s not the comfort everybody needs.

“Comfort, O comfort my people…”

I don’t need comfort from the specter of cancer, or other terrifying diagnoses. Others whom I love, though, face that battle daily, wondering if this treatment or that one will help them, or if fighting will only lengthen their suffering. Their need for comfort is very real, but it is not the same as mine.

I need comfort from questions of trust and security. This is the first chapter in Leah’s and my marriage where we are both employed and able to live together. But my anxiety revolves around are we stable enough that we can plan for the future, is her career secure? Is mine? But that’s not the same fear as others have.

“Comfort, O comfort my people…”

I don’t need comfort from “will my parents still love me if I bring home bad grades?” For many students, the end of the fall semester is looming, and the consistent emphasis on achievement can fill youth and young adults with fear that failing, or even just not achieving quite high enough, will be grounds for rejection, either from college or, worse, from their families. I remember when I needed that comfort, and many folks still live with it, but that’s not my need at this point.

I need comfort when I struggle to be faithful to God, and to what God has called me to do. A month or so ago, I opened myself up for the youth to ask me anything, and they asked if I ever had doubts or struggle with my faith. I do, and often. I know God loves me, but I just wished I could respond to God’s love a little better. But not everybody needs to be comforted in this way.

“Comfort, O comfort my people…”

I don’t need comfort from doubting my expertise, or am I qualified enough to function. There are lots of people in this world who have been told they are worthless so often that they believe it. They’ve been told that they can’t do something, and so they don’t even try. Or on the other hand, they’ve been trusted so quickly that they can’t move for fear of breaking something, everyone will notice, and then they’ll lose it all. That’s a huge fear in our communities, and can tear a person apart. But that is not the comfort I need.

I need comfort when I wonder if I can trust my congregation with myself. I sometimes tend to hide behind my knowledge, to use an intellectual connection rather than risk an emotional one. I know I’m absolutely called to share those powerful connections with y’all, to have the faith to be vulnerable and connected, but boy is it intimidating. I need the comfort to risk myself, not everyone needs that brand of comfort though.

“Comfort, O comfort my people…”

The list could go on and on, some anxieties belong to us, some do not.  Even as we list our personal worries and fears, the prophetic voice turns us from fear to faith. These words are not about the particularity of anxieties, they’re about the universality of God’s presence. No amount of kind words can resolve these fears and anxieties. Only the assurance in God’s presence can provide the comfort we need. God is free, and freely loves us and wants to be with us. “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the LORD’s hand double for all her sins.”

In the midst of exile, surrounded by our chronic anxiety and exhausting fears, Isaiah promises us that God is returning to the people, and is returning us to justice and peace. Grace is at hand, and we need not fear, because God is with us. “God’s judgment always serves the more encompassing purpose of God’s forgiveness and redemption of the sinful community.” At Advent, we wait for God, straining against our sinful nature so that we can glimpse the promise: God’s presence brings justice and peace. 

The verbs “Comfort” are plural, The KJV’s translation, “Comfort ye,” captures the communal weight of the comforting command. “Ye’ is 16th century English for “Y’all.” The command is not just to the particular prophet. All of God’s people are charged with sharing the story of God’s continuous love, even in the midst of exile. So it’s no surprise that Isaiah continues, but in different voices:

A voice cries out: “In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.”

One voice cries out to prepare a path in the wilderness, because God’s presence is an oncoming freight train, and we’ve got to lay the track so that the people know God is coming. Peace is on its way, and the change is not going to stop at our hearts or minds, the entire landscape will be different in the wake of God’s redeeming and righteous love. “Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.” The difference God’s presence makes is obvious to everyone, all people, regardless of what they need comfort from, will come together to see, and be comforted by, the glory of the Lord.

Another voice speaks: “A voice says, ‘Cry out!’ And I said, ‘What shall I cry?’ All people are like grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the LORD blows upon it; surely the people are grass. The grass withers and the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.” Not only is God on the way, as the first voice proclaims, but God is eternal and dependable.

While we may hear the comparison of humanity to grass as judgment and dismissive of our struggle, to those in exile, this is a word of comfort. Our oppression is human, our redemption is divine. The human hands that hold us down are like grass, and wither. God’s hand, mightily reaching out to gather us in, shall stand forever. “Though everything else fails, God’s word endures forever, and that God comes to lead them home.” The oppressed have comfort, have hope, in the promise that the current state of affairs will pass away like it were nothing. We hear the same comfort in the knowledge that so many of our anxieties are of our own invention, and in the presence of God, we are filled with the peace of God’s justice and love. While we are waiting for peace, the prophetic words give us hope in God’s presence among us.

So we are called, from the midst of our exile, to proclaim with as many voices as we can muster that the LORD is our redeemer. “Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good tidings, lift up your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings, lift it up, do not fear; say to the cities of Judah, “here is your God!” See, the LORD GOD comes with might, and his arm rules for him; his reward is with him, and his recompense before him. He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.”

One of the folks at lunch bunch pointed out that there’s a general ease starting to take over in the consciousness of this congregation. People are more willing to accept hope, she said. While I’d love to take credit for that, I think we all recognize that the peace, the capacity to trust the hope we’ve always had, the Comfort, O Comfort my people, points to God’s presence among us. As Isaiah puts it in verse ten, “See, the LORD GOD comes with might!”

God’s might “…is not the strength of a bloody avenger, a violent brute, or a demanding judge. No, this God’s strength appears in the barely thinkable power of gentleness, in tender and caring presence, in intimacy such as a shepherd expresses when gathering the wounded, scattered flock.”


So we are gathered in, as a flock. We have different kinds of need for comfort, but the comfort is with all of us. We are waiting for peace, which accompanies God’s righteous and mighty love. That love is coming, as we take comfort in God’s presence already working among us.

No comments:

Post a Comment