Off the coast
of Italy, there is an island called Ponza. Though one might depart from a
number of ports, the only way to get to the island is by boat – either ferry or
hydrofoil. My friend and I decided to go to the island one weekend – just for a
little adventure. We left from Anzio via hydrofoil which was a ninety minute
trip, if I remember correctly. The morning that my friend and I went to Ponza the
sea was like a sheet of glass and the cloud-dotted sky produced a very light
breeze. It was smooth sailing, making for a very pleasant beginning to our
adventure. We soaked in the sun, the breeze, and the salt air.
We had a very
pleasant visit to the island. Hiking the island form end to end, exploring
caves by the sea, and eating some wonderful local cuisine and drinking some
magnificent wine.
When we were
leaving the island three days later, however, the weather had changed. Where
there was once no wind, a blustery, hurling, frothy wind now blew. Where there
was once a sheet of glass, there were now white-capped waves. "È il
traghetto ancora in corso?” (“Is the ferry still going?") I asked the
pilot. "Si, se certo, questo è niente,” (“Oh yes, this is nothing.) he
said with a chuckle.
We held up
remarkably well, my friend and I – for about 15 minutes. But before long, the
pits of our stomachs swelled and our lips began to pray. The pilot took one
look at my friend, saw his color, and said in simple English, "Sit down, look
at the shore. Focus on it."
And so we did.
And there was, far away on the rocky shore of the mainland, one point that was
higher than all the others. It was a peak upon which stood a large white house.
More like a compound, that’s where I focused. My friend would admit that he
focused on a building closer to the marina, imagining it be a café with perhaps
a little something to settle his stomach. After a few minutes, my stomach did
begin to calm and my head cleared. "We’re going to make it," my
friend said with new assurance. And so we did!
Isaiah lived
was a choppy and chaotic world, where injustice reigned and wars ensued. Israel
was a nation tossed about the storm, threatened by the powerful Assyrians to
the north and menaced by the Egyptians to the south. The king and his advisors
were occupied with what they needed to do to protect themselves. Events were
getting out of their control. Fear was running rampant.
Human life began
to be qualified solely on the basis of wealth and material possessions. A harsh
wind was blowing and the waters were being stirred. People began to sink. The
neediest of the needy – the orphan and widow – were neglected. And many people just
didn't seem to care. "I might as well just go with the current,” they
thought. “That's just the way it is...always has been...always will be. Nothing
I can do about it."
And others
concentrated on building bigger and stronger armies to fight the might of Assyria
or to quell the flexing of Egypt.
But out of
that turmoil – out of that storm-tossed world – there was a voice that cried
out. There was a voice that stood out as a voice of God's own voice which bore
the vision of God's own vision. To the world that was warring and killing and
groping and sinking in the angry sea, the voice of Isaiah rose up. And that
voice would call out:
"Come,
let us go to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; that
he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.”
Isaiah
called out, giving Israel that place to look: Focus there. Focus your eyes upon
the mountain of the house of the Lord...that is your shore.
Now, here is
the question: Was Isaiah just being a foolhardy idealist? Was Isaiah just an
impractical, other-worldly thinker? Or, was Isaiah’s vision a vision of real
possibility and did Isaiah’s vision penetrate deeply into the reality of God?
Isaiah was no
grinning Pollyanna. He knew Israel was in the midst of a difficult time. He
knew suffering was real. He knew that walking in the sight of the mountain of
the house of the Lord would be a test of faith and practice of hope. He knew it
might be hard.
But Isaiah had
a vision. It was the same vision, if you really get into it, that God had given
Israel time and time again – with Noah, with Sarah & Abraham, with Moses,
with Deborah, with Judith, with Samuel & David. Israel should have had this
vision and maybe they did. But the thing that separated him from the others was
that he actually believed in it. Isaiah believed in the vision. Isaiah – like
the prophets of old – believed in the vision that we must “walk in the light of
the Lord.” Isaiah believed in the vision the sickness which overcomes us – the
sickness of sin that draws us toward the myriad of our violent insecurities must be stopped!
Our future has
always depended upon that remnant of people fixing their hearts, minds and
souls on an alternative vision...on a landmark established by God. We are
reminded of that vision in Nelson Mandela, who have our prayers as he lies near
death in South Africa. Mandela had a vision of a people of great and wonderful
and magnificent diversity living in equality and peace. He had a vision where
justice reigned and peace lived. Others have had that vision – Gandhi, Thic
Nhat Hanh, Martin Luther King, Jr., Mother Teresa of Calcutta.
And without
that vision, the prophet says, the people perish.
But it’s
important to remember that Isaiah wasn’t simply pointing to the future. He was envisioning the possible. But, the
possible is possible NOW. Isaiah, more than pointing to some future day, was speaking
about the present.
Did you notice
how he began this prophecy? "In days to come," reads our NRSV
translation. "In days to come..." But the literal Hebrew seems a bit
more nuanced so that we might read "in the back of the days" or
"in the midst of days." Isaiah is suggesting that it is not the
future’s promise nor the future’s place. Indeed, it is the present moment that is ripe. Or to use an
appropriate Advent term, it is the
present moment that is pregnant with God's justice and peace.
Now, I hope that
it doesn't surprise any of you who are listening but I've never been pregnant.
I remember, however, talking with a pregnant woman not too long ago about the
first time she felt movement in her womb. “It was subtle, almost
imperceptible,” she said. So subtle, in fact, that she almost missed it. So she
tried to be very still and very quiet so that she might be sensitive to the
hidden reality inside of her.
The prophet's
gift is not to see magically into the future. No, the prophet’s true gift is in
discerning the mystery of the present. And that mystery is our history and our
present. The day when people "shall beat their swords into plowshares and
spears into pruning hooks" is nearer than we can imagine!
Do you believe
that? Or is the prophet just a wild-eyed, dreamy, impractical idealist?
Jesus surely believed it. In fact, he staked his very life on it. That is the
question before us this Advent season: Can we watch, be ready, and claim this
vision? Can we move towards this vision, now, in the midst of the
present?
On this first
Sunday in Advent, the prophet Isaiah tells us of God’s beautiful vision set
before us. Along the way to living the vision, though, we have broken some
things: trust, hope, joy, unconditional love, forgiveness. Sometimes we did it
intentionally and sometimes we did not. But some of our relationships have been
broken…in our families, our churches, our communities, our nation, and our
world. And we can make it right again. It matters that we acknowledge, not only
our sin, but also that we can begin to bring healing again where brokenness
lies. This is what Advent is about: bringing healing and wholeness to a broken
world.
If we believe
the words of the prophet, then we hope for, watch for, prepare for, and work
for work for God's kingdom of justice, love and peace right in the midst of
time – our own time, now.
And we just
might make it! For it's closer than you think.
Let us
pray: O
come, O come Emmanuel. Come into our lives this Advent, a season of deep longing for what we have learned to call the
Day of our Lord – the day when you come with love and power and justice and
mercy – the day when we stand up and become all that you have created us to be.
So come to us, Emmanuel, in this season and on this day. May it be the day when
swords are beaten into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks. May it be the
day when cold hearts melt and relationships are made whole. May it be the day
when the hungry are fed, the thirsty given drink, the naked clothed, the
prisoners visited, the sick comforted, and foreigner welcomed. May it be the
day when there is peace. In the name of the Prince of Peace we pray. Amen.
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