Advent 2
With apologies to my amazing cousins for preaching about their childhoods without their permission. . . no names mentioned, but they know who they are! ;-)
Sermon: Advent Two (Year B) St. Mark's Hazard,
December 7, 2007
Isaiah 40:1-11
Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13
2 Peter 3:8-15a
Mark 1:1-8
May our work in the world be a vehicle for Your Love; May it shine and light up all darkened places. Be with us, O Lord. Amen. (Adapted from Marianne Williamson's Illuminata.)
Do you have cousins or other relatives that are just a little out there? When I was growing up, my first cousins were exotic and interesting and always seemed to my spoiled eyes to get the lion's share of attention. (For example, we could only eat ONE Heath Bar, but they could have several since they never got to eat them in their regular lives!)
That was a fair reason for this double standard, even though I was pretty jealous. My uncle was a geologist working for oil companies in some of the most amazing places in the world- places like Bolivia, Turkey, Algeria, Indonesia, Morocco- (not in that order!)- and so, when they did get to travel home it was a huge occasion for celebration. These children were fascinating and unusual for several reasons. For one thing, all of my first cousins were frighteningly intelligent, and between accents that were more British than anything else, and vocabularies that were far removed from a small Midwestern town, they did not sound like anyone we knew. My whole family had a huge vocabulary (My Grandfather referred to my mother and aunt as "peripatetic sesquipedalians," for example, because they walked around and used large words, but our side of the family did not always use such a verbal range, and my cousins did it effortlessly!!) Their world view was so wide open and it gave them an appearance of sophistication and authority. I expect their rural Iowa cousins seemed so limited and terribly provincial to them! Nonetheless, they were always so kind to us—and to this day I love to talk to them because familial bonds traverse the differences between us—but I always knew they were wildly and wonderfully DIFFERENT from anyone else I would every encounter. A part of me yearned often to BE my cousins, but at the same time, I knew they would never be typical American kids. I wondered if I would ever possess that kind of courage or opportunity.
Jesus and John were cousins too, and as different (and similar!) as I was from my cousins. Although Jesus would challenge the status quo, John was visibly immune to societal conventions and expectations. John was true to who he was and determined to be God's servant. He was arguably a bit exotic and interesting, even compared to Jesus who would define his ministry by doing the unexpected. But although the approach of Jesus and John to God looked radically different from the outside, it was absolutely the same. Both men put the message and work of God at the center of their every breath.
Still, given the wilderness, the locusts and wild honey, and the unusual message, how could John know that anyone—much less Jesus himself—would come there to find him? The answer is that he knew that at least in part because of the Scripture that framed his life and ministry.
For the people of both Testaments, the wilderness was a special place. The Israelites were led into it by Moses, freed by their God, and also kept there for 40 years by that same God. They would not be ready to face the world until the relationship between God and God's people had been given dedicated time to grow and flourish. Jesus would seek the same after his Baptism.
The words that Mark cites as from Isaiah are actually a composite of words from Malachi, Exodus and Isaiah. But that matters less because the purpose is made plain: John is deliberately put by Mark into a role that exists only to point to Jesus as Savior. He is referenced as an Elijah-figure because Scripture had said it was the Prophet Elijah who was expected to come before the final day of the Lord.
By Lectionary tradition, however, we read today just the passage referenced from Isaiah= because it does connect, and because it is especially appropriate for Advent.
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. . .
Like those familiar with the tradition of a desert wilderness and its purposes, we find ourselves in such a place in Advent. Our desert is noisier, of course. It is laden with commercialism, and greed. It is marked by shoppers more interested in obtaining the best deal on a flat screen TV than in holding a human life sacred. It is also marked by fear of scarcity instead of thankfulness for abundance. People seem to have either indifference or inability to listen for God's voice across that wilderness.
But we who celebrate Advent have the special opportunity to pause and encounter the wilderness in the way that the Israelites did. With time and dedication, we have the opportunity to use this Wilderness in order to strengthen and enhance our relationship to God.
How do we go about it? I have a new appreciation for valleys and mountains after my weekend at the Domain a couple of weeks ago. Graff took us up the mountain to the place called "Wind Tunnel." For him of course it was an effortless jaunt, but for his ancient mother it was filled with physical challenge and a fair degree of both frustration and amusement. I became fast friends with every supportive tree on the journey. Not only did I struggle on the steep slopes to get up paths covered by snowy leaves, but I could only come down the hill via one method. My red coat has to go to the cleaners because it was not intended to be a toboggan! Not only that, when I was going up or coming down, I could not really focus on the beauty of the walk or the signs of the spring to come, even in the midst of winter. But when we had a rare flat place to walk, I could see the mountain outlines against a deep Autumn- blue sky. I could appreciate a bank of rhododendrons which still have leaves and will bring a glorious color to the steep mountainside in a few months. I could breathe in the fresh air and feel the sunshine on my hair. God could come to me easily because I was not distracted or working harder than I needed to. I was able to make a straight highway for God across the momentarily level ground of my heart.
I believe this is what both Jesus and John were able to do in order to meet God in the wilderness and hear what God intended for their lives. They became a sanctuary for the Holy Spirit in such a way that they could block out the mountains and valleys of being marked as typical and become wildly and wonderfully different for God. Because they had prepared the way, John could understand his ministry as not important in itself, but as a sign in the desert for the Incarnation of God's presence in the world. Jesus could find his way to the Wilderness in order to be Baptized and spend time really listening to God and working on that relationship in order to be strengthened for the mountains and valleys that would materialize in front of him. With the relationship right, the challenges become much easier to navigate.
We have all been baptized. We have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ's own forever. We have within us both the courage and the opportunity to be wildly and wonderfully different than the wilderness around us. But it takes effort. It means coming together for worship, spending time with God's word and finding ways of being quiet in order to really listen. It will mean the 'conditioning' of a right relationship with God and each other in order to get up and down the hills more easily. The Christian formation and midweek worship and outreach opportunities here at St. Mark's are a good way to start that conditioning. And when we take the time to prepare, the Glory of God can be revealed—for us, to us, and through us. Paul says, "Therefore, beloved, while you are waiting for these things, strive to be found by him at peace, without spot or blemish; and regard the patience of our Lord as salvation."
Several years ago, I took part in an Advent Musical. One of the pieces of that which has stayed in my head was a round. It went like this:
Prepare the way of the Lord!
Prepare the way of the Lord!
And all people on earth shall seek
Salvation under God!
Isaiah's vision of a Shepherd God feeding us like sheep, and gathering us like lambs into in his arms in a place without barrier mountains and valleys comes to mind. If everyone were seeking God in this way, the wilderness would transform into a wildly and wonderfully different existence for all people on earth.
Amen.
Sermon: Advent Two (Year B) St. Mark's Hazard,
December 7, 2007
Isaiah 40:1-11
Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13
2 Peter 3:8-15a
Mark 1:1-8
May our work in the world be a vehicle for Your Love; May it shine and light up all darkened places. Be with us, O Lord. Amen. (Adapted from Marianne Williamson's Illuminata.)
Do you have cousins or other relatives that are just a little out there? When I was growing up, my first cousins were exotic and interesting and always seemed to my spoiled eyes to get the lion's share of attention. (For example, we could only eat ONE Heath Bar, but they could have several since they never got to eat them in their regular lives!)
That was a fair reason for this double standard, even though I was pretty jealous. My uncle was a geologist working for oil companies in some of the most amazing places in the world- places like Bolivia, Turkey, Algeria, Indonesia, Morocco- (not in that order!)- and so, when they did get to travel home it was a huge occasion for celebration. These children were fascinating and unusual for several reasons. For one thing, all of my first cousins were frighteningly intelligent, and between accents that were more British than anything else, and vocabularies that were far removed from a small Midwestern town, they did not sound like anyone we knew. My whole family had a huge vocabulary (My Grandfather referred to my mother and aunt as "peripatetic sesquipedalians," for example, because they walked around and used large words, but our side of the family did not always use such a verbal range, and my cousins did it effortlessly!!) Their world view was so wide open and it gave them an appearance of sophistication and authority. I expect their rural Iowa cousins seemed so limited and terribly provincial to them! Nonetheless, they were always so kind to us—and to this day I love to talk to them because familial bonds traverse the differences between us—but I always knew they were wildly and wonderfully DIFFERENT from anyone else I would every encounter. A part of me yearned often to BE my cousins, but at the same time, I knew they would never be typical American kids. I wondered if I would ever possess that kind of courage or opportunity.
Jesus and John were cousins too, and as different (and similar!) as I was from my cousins. Although Jesus would challenge the status quo, John was visibly immune to societal conventions and expectations. John was true to who he was and determined to be God's servant. He was arguably a bit exotic and interesting, even compared to Jesus who would define his ministry by doing the unexpected. But although the approach of Jesus and John to God looked radically different from the outside, it was absolutely the same. Both men put the message and work of God at the center of their every breath.
Still, given the wilderness, the locusts and wild honey, and the unusual message, how could John know that anyone—much less Jesus himself—would come there to find him? The answer is that he knew that at least in part because of the Scripture that framed his life and ministry.
For the people of both Testaments, the wilderness was a special place. The Israelites were led into it by Moses, freed by their God, and also kept there for 40 years by that same God. They would not be ready to face the world until the relationship between God and God's people had been given dedicated time to grow and flourish. Jesus would seek the same after his Baptism.
The words that Mark cites as from Isaiah are actually a composite of words from Malachi, Exodus and Isaiah. But that matters less because the purpose is made plain: John is deliberately put by Mark into a role that exists only to point to Jesus as Savior. He is referenced as an Elijah-figure because Scripture had said it was the Prophet Elijah who was expected to come before the final day of the Lord.
By Lectionary tradition, however, we read today just the passage referenced from Isaiah= because it does connect, and because it is especially appropriate for Advent.
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. . .
Like those familiar with the tradition of a desert wilderness and its purposes, we find ourselves in such a place in Advent. Our desert is noisier, of course. It is laden with commercialism, and greed. It is marked by shoppers more interested in obtaining the best deal on a flat screen TV than in holding a human life sacred. It is also marked by fear of scarcity instead of thankfulness for abundance. People seem to have either indifference or inability to listen for God's voice across that wilderness.
But we who celebrate Advent have the special opportunity to pause and encounter the wilderness in the way that the Israelites did. With time and dedication, we have the opportunity to use this Wilderness in order to strengthen and enhance our relationship to God.
How do we go about it? I have a new appreciation for valleys and mountains after my weekend at the Domain a couple of weeks ago. Graff took us up the mountain to the place called "Wind Tunnel." For him of course it was an effortless jaunt, but for his ancient mother it was filled with physical challenge and a fair degree of both frustration and amusement. I became fast friends with every supportive tree on the journey. Not only did I struggle on the steep slopes to get up paths covered by snowy leaves, but I could only come down the hill via one method. My red coat has to go to the cleaners because it was not intended to be a toboggan! Not only that, when I was going up or coming down, I could not really focus on the beauty of the walk or the signs of the spring to come, even in the midst of winter. But when we had a rare flat place to walk, I could see the mountain outlines against a deep Autumn- blue sky. I could appreciate a bank of rhododendrons which still have leaves and will bring a glorious color to the steep mountainside in a few months. I could breathe in the fresh air and feel the sunshine on my hair. God could come to me easily because I was not distracted or working harder than I needed to. I was able to make a straight highway for God across the momentarily level ground of my heart.
I believe this is what both Jesus and John were able to do in order to meet God in the wilderness and hear what God intended for their lives. They became a sanctuary for the Holy Spirit in such a way that they could block out the mountains and valleys of being marked as typical and become wildly and wonderfully different for God. Because they had prepared the way, John could understand his ministry as not important in itself, but as a sign in the desert for the Incarnation of God's presence in the world. Jesus could find his way to the Wilderness in order to be Baptized and spend time really listening to God and working on that relationship in order to be strengthened for the mountains and valleys that would materialize in front of him. With the relationship right, the challenges become much easier to navigate.
We have all been baptized. We have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ's own forever. We have within us both the courage and the opportunity to be wildly and wonderfully different than the wilderness around us. But it takes effort. It means coming together for worship, spending time with God's word and finding ways of being quiet in order to really listen. It will mean the 'conditioning' of a right relationship with God and each other in order to get up and down the hills more easily. The Christian formation and midweek worship and outreach opportunities here at St. Mark's are a good way to start that conditioning. And when we take the time to prepare, the Glory of God can be revealed—for us, to us, and through us. Paul says, "Therefore, beloved, while you are waiting for these things, strive to be found by him at peace, without spot or blemish; and regard the patience of our Lord as salvation."
Several years ago, I took part in an Advent Musical. One of the pieces of that which has stayed in my head was a round. It went like this:
Prepare the way of the Lord!
Prepare the way of the Lord!
And all people on earth shall seek
Salvation under God!
Isaiah's vision of a Shepherd God feeding us like sheep, and gathering us like lambs into in his arms in a place without barrier mountains and valleys comes to mind. If everyone were seeking God in this way, the wilderness would transform into a wildly and wonderfully different existence for all people on earth.
Amen.
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