Sermon for 2nd Sunday of Advent: 7 December 2014
Sermon for 2nd Sunday of
Advent
7 December 2014
The Rev. Carrie Smith
Grace and
peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
“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.”
It’s been a
quiet week in Jerusalem. For most of us gathered here today, this has been a
week of fewer security alerts and less disruption of daily life. Our Muslim
neighbors have enjoyed several weeks now of unrestricted access to Al Aqsa,
which has meant quieter Fridays and calmer evenings in general. Also, it’s Advent,
and Christmastime activities are in full swing, and therefore it’s tempting to
hear these opening verses of Isaiah 40 as a pronouncement that the storm has
passed, the struggle is finished, and peace has come at last. Comfort, O Comfort
my people, says your God. You’ve served your term, Jerusalem—you’ve paid more
than you ever owed for your sins. Everything is fine. Nothing to see here.
But then, we
know the truth. We know the anger and fear underlying the violence of the past
months have not just disappeared. We know the surface calm of the past week can
barely hide the under-the-table, backdoor, and sometimes very open efforts to
further separate people from their homes, from their land, and the peoples of
Jerusalem from each other. Any comfort we enjoy from the quiet and calm is
certain to be fleeting, a salve on an infected wound, a false front and fresh
coat of paint on a house teetering on collapse.
If I sound a
little dark and gloomy this morning, it’s because my heart has been stirred up
this week, not only by the ongoing conflict here in Jerusalem, but also by the storm
brewing in my home country, the United States. It’s been interesting to observe
from afar the news of angry protests across the US after the deaths of the
unarmed Eric, Michael, and Tamir (only 12 years old) at the hands of police. “Hands
up, don’t shoot!” and “I can’t breathe!” are common rallying cries for the
growing protests. I watch the uprising across the ocean, and I think of my Palestinian
sisters and brothers here, who have been singing the same melody for years: “Don’t
shoot! I can’t cross the checkpoint. I can’t get to work. I can’t get to the
doctor. I can’t get to my holy sites to pray. I can’t see past this wall. I can’t
imagine my future. I can’t breathe.”
And then
this morning, “Comfort, O comfort, my people, says your God.”
The confusing
thing about Advent is that while we are busy making our homes warm and comfortable,
cooking traditional comforting foods, and singing familiar comforting songs,
the message of Scripture for the church season has nothing to do with comfort
at all. This is a time of discomfort.
Advent is a time for reflection, confession, and preparation. The discomfort
comes from acknowledging, together, that although God has already come among us
as Emmanuel, God with us, the kingdom has not been realized in full. The birth
of Jesus in Bethlehem 2,015 years ago means peace has been born between God and
God’s people. But we don’t have to look far to recognize that peace has yet to
be born among the people of Jerusalem, or Ferguson, or New York. It’s still
Advent. The baby has yet to be born. We are still in the wilderness. There’s
still work to do.
There’s a highway to be built.
Isaiah 40,
verse 3: 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.
Biblical
commentaries all tell us that this entire dialogue at the beginning of Isaiah
40 is a conversation taking place in the heavens. This is a script meant for
God and the heavenly choir of angels, and we are overhearing the divine voices at
the center of creation, discussing the preparations necessary for the coming of
the Lord.
While this
is most certainly the correct interpretation of this passage, I’m having a hard
time leaving this text in the heavenly realm. When I read of a voice crying out
“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord!” – and then when I look around
at the wilderness we’re living in today – I wonder if we might be included in
this conversation. God may be speaking to us through this Scripture. We just
might be the heavenly choir, God’s messengers, who have some work to do to prepare
the way of the Lord.
Valleys need
lifting. Mountains need lowering. Uneven ground needs leveling. Rough patches need
smoothing.
Black men
and boys in my home country need even ground to travel through middle school, high
school, and college. They need a level playing field for employment, and buying
a home, and, frankly, just living to adulthood.
Palestinians
in this country need checkpoints opened, villages and families reunited,
documents processed, and walls taken down. They need a clear path to the
future.
While some
of us have been traveling well-lit, smoothly-paved, 4-lane highways, so many of
our neighbors are just looking for safe passage through the wilderness of life.
It can be
tempting to survey the situation our neighbors face and determine, “I guess
this is the way it will always be. Jesus is the only one who can fix this. Come
quickly, Lord Jesus!” It’s especially easy to do this when you’re an outsider
or newcomer, as most of us are. After all, we can still get through the
checkpoints, with the right passport. And we can always go home.
In a similar
way, white America views the urgency and desperation of the “I can’t breathe”
demonstrations and they are saying, “But I don’t understand! The air is fine!”
But as we
heard in today’s Gospel lesson, when John the Baptizer came announcing the
coming of the Lord, he preached a message of repentance and confession of sins.
“And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem
were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing
their sins.” This, my sisters and brothers, is what we, the powerful and
privileged, are being called to this Advent season. We have heard the voice in the
wilderness, crying out “Prepare the way of the Lord! Make his paths straight!” We
have heard the voices of our neighbors, crying “I can’t breathe” and “Tear down
this wall.” And now, it’s time to repent, to receive forgiveness—and to get to
work—because Jesus, the one we’ve been waiting for, is on his way. Jesus, prince
of peace, friend of the poor, liberator and reconciler, is coming soon. Preparing
the way for his coming, and the coming of his kingdom, means preparing safe
passage for every beloved child of God’s creation.
Here in
Jerusalem, we are often greeted in Arabic with the phrase “Ahlan wa Sahlan”, which means, in essence, “welcome!” But literally translated, this phrase means
something like “family” (ahlan) and “a level place, suitable for farming”
(sahlan). In other words, when someone greets us with “Ahlan wa Sahlan”, they
are saying “You are now family, and this level ground I enjoy is for you to
enjoy, too.”
You are family,
and this level ground is for you, too. My sisters and brothers, our Christian
witness is that the birth of Jesus, the one we call Emmanuel, God with us, made
us all part of God’s family. When God became flesh and dwelt among us, the
mountains were made low and the valleys were raised, creating a straight and
level pathway between God and God’s people. “You are now family, and this level
ground is for you, too.” In Christ, God has said “Ahlan wa sahlan” to the whole
world. This is the Good News of Jesus Christ. This is our Advent hope and our
Christmas joy.
And this is what our neighbors on the other
side of the wall—and on the other side of the ocean—need to hear from us today:
You are family, and this level ground is yours, too. My privilege, my power, my
fertile soil, my ease of access, are yours, too. I will not leave you in the
wilderness.
“Then the
glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for
the mouth of the LORD has spoken.”
Prepare the
royal highway, the king of kings is near! Love is on its way. Jesus, Emmanuel,
is coming to us in the wilderness of Jerusalem, and at the checkpoints of the
West Bank, and on the streets of Cleveland and New York and Chicago. In every
place where the cry for justice, peace, and reconciliation is met with the Good
News that God’s kingdom is for all people, we see the glory of the Lord
revealed. Come, Lord Jesus. Ahlan wa
sahlan. Amen.
Let us pray:
Creator God, We praise you for your love in coming to us, unworthy though we
are. Give us grace to accept the Christ who comes in your name, and the courage
to be Christ for others. Amen.
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