More thoughts from ground level

Isaiah 25:6-10 and Matthew 1:18-25

This is our fourth week climbing mountains in Isaiah. From three previous mountains in this Advent season we have seen amazing views of the Christmas landscape ahead. For the past three weeks, the words from Isaiah have announced that God wills to act for the creation, not against it, and not with ambivalence, but for it and in love.

The purpose of our Advent preparation is to help us hear that claim in a way that makes the news of Christ’s birth all the sweeter. In a way that stirs us to do something more than just pause here for a few days in December before we go back to business as usual.

I began this series with the idea that we have to climb the mountain if we want to see the view from the top. Thank you for traveling with me through this season and climbing mounting together. On this final Sunday of Advent, we have the clearest view yet. Did you hear the mountain in this poetry from Isaiah?

Listen to part of that poetry again. On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines. God will destroy on this mountain the shroud that is cast over all the people, and will swallow up death forever. And then this poetry captures in a single sentence the whole of our Advent days: Lo, Isaiah writes, this is the one for whom we have waited; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation. I’ve enjoyed the poetry from these mountains in Isaiah.

These words from Isaiah are often read on Easter Day, not during Advent. They are part of our celebration of the empty tomb. Death is swallowed up. Tears are wiped away. Do you hear how these are words of Easter triumph over Good Friday sadness? I like that we are on this mountain today hearing these words. They remind us where all of this heading. We celebrate Jesus’ birth and all that flows from the manger, knowing what lies ahead. On this fourth Sunday of Advent we stand on a mountain and gaze out over the entire landscape of God’s work of salvation.

In a few months, we will return to this mountain as part of our Easter celebration. At that point we’ll be looking backwards at what God has accomplished in Jesus Christ. What a view we have, if only for a moment, to watch again how it all began with two people, Mary and Joseph, long ago. And that leads us to the Matthew reading.

Matthew is telling of the birth of Jesus, and scholars date his birth to around 4BC. This sounds a little strange since BC stands for “before Christ,” but perhaps one way of looking at it is that he always was a person ahead of his time.

If Time magazine were around in 4BC whom do you think they would name as person of the year? Can you imagine the editorial board meeting to come up with a short list of candidates? For sure, the short list would have included Caesar Augustus. He was the supreme ruler of a 500 year old empire, which controlled lands reaching thousands of miles. No one was more powerful than Caesar. He had statues everywhere in the empire to remind people of his authority and coins minted with his face on them.

That short list for person of the year in 4BC could also have included Herod the Great. Great, that is, in the sense of powerful, great in the way Katrina was a great hurricane. Mostly he was known for being brutal to his subject and for building palaces. He also expanded the Temple in Jerusalem. He convinced the Roman Senate to elect him King of the Jews. In 4BC he controlled the politics, religious activities, and commerce of the Roman province of Judea.

There was a poet that year in Rome named Ovid. He might have made the list. The Romans enjoyed reading and discussing his works. That year he had published another collection of his poems and letters.

There was also the commander of the Roman legions. This commander was north of Rome in Germania fighting the invading various tribes who were attacking the northern territories. Roman forts had been built in Germania against this threat. The security of Rome depended on keeping these barbarians under control. Their strategy was to fight them in their land so we don’t have to fight them in Rome.

There are probably other people who might have been in the running that year, but I think in these verses from Matthew, Matthew himself is giving us his choice for person of the year in 4BC. It’s a carpenter from Nazareth named Joseph.

Joseph is the first “live” person we meet in Matthew’s gospel. The gospel begins with a genealogy from Abraham to Joseph, a long listing of “begats.” This list shows how the story about to be told is connected with what has come before.

After that list a narrative begins about the birth of Jesus. It’s from Joseph’s perspective. The other gospel that tells of the birth of Jesus is Luke, and that version is from Mary’s perspective. We’ll read that tomorrow night. So in Matthew, Joseph learns that Mary, his fiancée is pregnant. This is a serious offense in that ancient and very socially conservative culture. Joseph was unwilling to do what the holy book permitted in such cases: stoning the offender. He did something different. Matthew writes that Joseph was unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, so he planned to dismiss her quietly. This was before he learned in a dream the nature of Mary’s pregnancy.

Matthew is telling us something very important about Joseph. He chooses to do something different than is written in the holy book. The first person we meet in the New Testament is changing the long-established ways of doing things. Something new is taking place, something that will challenge established traditions to their core.

Matthew’s pick for the person who influenced the world more than any other that year is Joseph. He did not dismiss Mary. He did not pick up the first stone to throw at her. He did not step back and let other do the violence for him. He chose to be merciful to Mary and the unborn baby.

Fred Craddock wrote that Joseph knew how to read the Bible. He read it through the lens of grace and goodness and the love of God. If you read the Bible, Craddock writes, and you find justification for humiliating or harming another, especially if it makes you feel better about yourself, you are not reading it correctly.

The view from this fourth mountain of Advent is that God wills to be gracious toward creation. The people through whom God chooses to bring that goodness our way are not the powerful people of their day or the articulate or the famous or the ruthless. They are the faithful. In 4BC, two faithful people: Joseph, an honorable, merciful man, and Mary, a girl with a servant-heart were married, and they were the first to welcome Emmanuel, God with us, into the world.

There is a pattern set here in the opening pages of Matthew’s gospel, a pattern that will be woven through Jesus’ public ministry. The least will become greatest.

Blessed are the pure in heart, Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount, for they will see God. Amen.

Isaiah 52:7-10 and Psalm 98

Advent leads us toward Christmas in a way that makes me want to savor these days—they go by so quickly. I also want to invite others to join with us and hear the good news of this season. This year I am suggesting that during these Advent days we are walking an uphill path toward Christmas. Uphill in the sense that the farther we get into Advent, the better view we have of Christmas Day. Like Mary and Joseph who on their way to Judea had an uphill climb the closer they came to Bethlehem, we too are climbing a mountains in this season. From the tops of these mountains we’ve already had some great views.

Last week you may remember the geography of Isaiah 40. That poetry took us up a mountain to hear a herald announce that God is making a way through the desert to return to Jerusalem and to gather the people together with words of comfort and tenderness. The view from this mountain pointed us toward Christmas day and the news that God has come near in Jesus to show us what that comfort and tenderness looks like. The first views we have of that divine comfort and tenderness is of a mother holding a baby in a manger.

The week before that, the first Sunday of Advent, the geography of Isaiah 2 took us up the Lord’s mountain. The poetry of Isaiah 2 offered an image of the end of time. From the highest of all mountains, God will establish a lasting peace for all creation. Nation shall not lift up sword against nation. Swords become plowshares and no one will study war anymore. The view from that mountain pointed us toward Christmas day and the arrival of the prince of peace on earth, the arrival of the one who will show us what divine peace looks like.

What a view we’ve had together from mountain tops so far. So did you hear the mountain in this text from Isaiah 52? The geography of Isaiah 52 takes us up a mountian this week to listen to a messener. The messenger has brought news from a far away place. Isaiah calls the feet of the messenger beautiful because feet have carried to us the news of peace and salvation and of the reign of God.

In this poetry Isaiah announces that heaven has touched down to earth and the Lord will return to Jerusalem and all people shall see the salvation of our God. The view from this mountain points us toward Christmas day, the moment when heaven met earth: angels leave the choir of Heaven to bring a message to humble shepherds in the fields; a star shines its light out of the heavens on the way for Magi to travel across a desert to find the baby; and John writes that the Word, that was with God and was God, takes on flesh to become one of us on earth.

On the mountain of Isaiah 52, the messenger tells us heaven has touched earth. How beautiful are the feet of the messenger who brings such news.

Has this news made a difference? I ask that because the world seems so content to live in the valleys and miss the messenger on the mountain. The world is still so full of war, and greed seems to win. So many people around the world live in desperate poverty, and neighbors still argue with neighbors. Isn’t it fair to ask what has changed because heaven has touched down to earth? Here’s what I see from that mountain. We have a pathway out of the ways of war, violence, fear, power, and greed and that pathway is full of people with beautiful feet.

I heard someone say recently that it’s not that we don’t know how God wants us to change, or what we could do better with our own time and energy, it’s that we’re mostly comfortable where we are, or we don’t want to do what we know the gospel would require of us. Why walk a different path now? Why let go of what I’ve worked to hard for? Why should I forgive that person? Let me offer two comments on this uphill pathway forward.

First, none of us is a finished product or finished growing in faith. Have any of you reached the point where you’ve got it all figure out? The news of heaven coming to earth means there’s more for me, for you, to become.

Second, we should risk walking a different path because the world is watching. What difference does it make that any of us is here if we don’t live differently out there? The news of that messenger on the mountain, the news that God is coming near, demands some response from us more than simply a pause and then a return to busyness as usual, or conflict as usual, or resentment as usual. If the world sees no change in us because of that news why would they care to hear any news from any messenger on any mountain? That messenger bring news that calls us to risk stepping forward into a new way of living, a new way of coming together as community.

Susanne and I saw a movie recently that lifts up this theme of risking a step forward. I would recommend this movie to anyone. It’s called Akeela and the Bee. A middle school student from central Los Angeles is encouraged by her principal to enter a school spelling bee. She wins it and enters the next level of competition. Part of the movie is about her sense of comfort with the life she always thought she would have and how she has to leave that behind as she climbs from one spelling bee to the next. Spelling brings her family and community closer together. It’s a good movie to watch. Akeela, her coach, her mom, and the people around her all risk something and find something. And there’s something beautiful in watching that happen.

I’ve seen something beautiful this morning: feet, like the messenger on the mountain. I’ve seen the feet of people walking across the gravel of the church driveway to get to the sanctuary. They were announcing a new way forward: the way of peace and community. In this great enterprise called humanity, we travel a new way forward together.

We are the messengers of joyous news. Where will your own feet carry you in the days ahead? What kind of messenger will you be? What will you announce? Here’s one idea: share with the people you meet this week the view from this mountain. Heaven has touched earth and a baby lies in a manger. Listen for the cry of this baby. It’s a call away from the comfortable, familiar ruts of life to a path that gives hope and new beginnings and peace. Et Gloria in excelsis Deo. Amen.

Isaiah 40:1-11 and Matthew 3:1-6

Advent is that uphill climb toward Christmas Day. Last week I shared that in Advent I will be preaching around the theme you’ve got to climb the mountain if you want to see the view. So each week I plan to ask the question where’s the mountain in the text? And how are we going to ascend that mountain as we make our way toward Christmas.

Last week, you may remember the geography of Isaiah 2, took us up the Lord’s mountain from which at the end of time, God will establish a lasting peace for all creation, and as the song goes, no one will study war anymore. What a great view we had together from that mountain top.

The mountain in today’s texts is stark and rocky but the view from its summit is spectacular. Did you hear the mountain in the Isaiah reading? Listen to verse 9 again: Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good tiding. Isaiah writes about a bearer of news calling out from a mountain into all the land. Do you know what that news is? God is making a way through the desert to return to Jerusalem and to gather the people together? These are words of restoration and reconciliation.

One historical note is helpful here. Isaiah 40 speaks about one of the most powerful moments in the Old Testament. With the rise of the Persian Empire, and the decline of the Babylonians in 540BC, Isaiah interprets the will of God at work in this shift of powers. In this transition of power from one empire to another, God calls exiles home from Babylon to Judea with a word of comfort and tenderness, and God returns with them on a highway through the desert. In Isaiah’s poetry, a herald climbs a mountain to announce the good news with comfort and tenderness: that God will again reign in Jerusalem, like a shepherd who gathers the flock together.

Who needs to hear this good news? Can you think of someone who longs for a place of safety? What about someone who longs for a place where they are accepted and welcomed? Can you think of someone who longs to be at peace? I can think of people who long for such things.

I imagine people in Omaha long for a place of peace right now. Somewhere this day a family waits for some break in the search for a family member. A family grieves over the loss of a young person who had so much life ahead of him. A soldier tells his family they have to wait a little longer. A mother searches for some way to communicate to her teenager.

To all these people Isaiah announces good news: come and find what you’re searching for—safety, acceptance, peace, a home. Find these things with God’s help and in a community of God’s people.

I reread something that E.B. White wrote that makes this Advent climb toward Christmas just a little more challenging for me. E.B. White was a great American writer who wrote in the last century for the New Yorker. He also wrote children’s books (Charlotte’s Web and Stuart Little). He reminded me that what we have together as a community of faith is really good. He wrote, I rise each day torn between the desire to savor the world and a desire to save the world. This makes is had to plan the day.

What we have together is so valuable and part of me wants to savor this sense of our community together as we observe Advent, enjoy the music, anticipate all the events leading us toward Christmas. There is a part of me that want to savor all of that and focus on that. There is also a part of me that feels a burden to share this with people who are hurting and searching for some hope in life. Do you know what I mean to feel torn about this season?

We actually get to do both as a community: to savor the season and to share with others the news of a God who cares enough about the creation to come close, dwell with us, and save us. So I am glad to make this trip up Isaiah’s mountain today and hear again this call to announce that God is coming near, for this changes everything.

John the Baptist heard this message in Isaiah 40. It changed everything for him. He even started climbing mountains to announce good news from their summits. He did this in the wilderness of Judea, where the view is fantastic. From some of the mountains you can look down and see the Dead Sea, the Kingdom of Jordan, Jerusalem and on a clear day you can just glimpse the Mediterranean Sea in the far distance. John climbed those Judean mountains and told people to wait for the who was on the way. And they listened to him.

The crowd that followed John found a new way forward in repentance and baptism. They heard John speak the poetry of Isaiah and they heard John tell them he was preparing the way for God to come near.

In the season of Advent we are reminded by Isaiah and John that God has come near, in a way that is new and different. God has come near in the birth of Jesus. By this humble arrival, God reframes what divine power looks like, what complete dependence on another looks like, how we all begin life the same way, how the least among us really can be the greatest.

In the days ahead we will announce to the world with much celebration that long ago a baby arrived with a cry, and that cry was an invitation to come near, to come home. Everyone who comes near discovers a great surprise of the Kingdom of Heaven: God is the one who has come near to us to show us the way.Walter Bruggeman wrote that Advent is a time to imagine a homecoming, and to recognize that, because God has come near, the old ways of fear, anxiety, power, war, violence are not our true home. The way forward through Advent leads us to our true home. Savor this way and invite of others to join us. And thanks be to God. Amen.