Christians
have the somewhat regrettable habit of pulling readings from Isaiah out for the
lead up to and during the Christmas break. It’s similar to the way we dig the
Christmas decorations out of the shed, cellar or attic to put up a month or so
before Christmas. It appears from my
experience that we read these passages from Isaiah as if he’s a fortune teller
or a Nostradamus, making predictions about Jesus. But, maybe we should fight
that tendency. I say this because the
writers of Isaiah weren’t writing about Jesus, per se.
No, writers of
Isaiah were passing on the messages that they received from God, which were intended
to provide specific comfort to specific people during a specific crisis. These
people are in exile. The temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed. The very home
of God had been destroyed. The writers of Isaiah weren’t writing to predict the
future. They were writing to give courage to the people of Israel, so they
could endure. So that begs the question of how we hear these words from the Isaiah’s
if exile is our reality? Imagine we are little Israel and we don’t have
military might. We are now beginning to
wonder if our God has also been defeated— where is God when he’s not in the
temple?
These thoughts
are quite challenging. I invite you this week to spend some time with the book
of Isaiah. Listen to the words in their own context. Let them speak to you in
your context. What is going on in your life such that heaven being torn apart
and mountains quaking would be a sign of hope? Just imagine what is happening
around our world politically with the rumblings of the USA against North Korea
and other nations and the return rhetoric from those countries.
As Christians,
we seem to have a hard time reading the book of Isaiah without immediately
thinking of Jesus. Because while we are preparing for Jesus’ birth in four
weeks, we know what happened two thousand years ago. God did tear open the
heavens. And good, observant Jews, who had been hearing the book of Isaiah’s
writings all of their lives, recognised a connection between Jesus and the
words of the book of Isaiah. The Gospel accounts of Jesus were written down by
people who often framed their understanding of who Jesus was through the lens
of the book of Isaiah’s writing. “Oh, that you would tear open the heavens and
come down.”
And God did
come. God heard the cries of the people and changed the way we relate to the
Divine. A baby was born in Bethlehem, in a manger, away from the halls of power
and privilege. And the world was turned upside down by this man, fully human,
fully divine. Once the Divine enters the world, even the heavens themselves
will be shaken. By making reference to sun, moon, and stars, this weeks reading
from Mark 13 is cluing us in to the truth that God’s reign is a cosmic reign,
it isn’t just a change of administration like ion the political sphere of our
worldly nations. It isn’t just new people taking over. It is an entirely new
creation.
And so, we
wait in patience, knowing that not every act of God resounds like a pounding
sledgehammer. In the book of Isaiah’s metaphor, God does not always split open
the heavens. Whereas even his closest disciples longed to call down fire from
heaven and to brandish swords, Jesus compared his coming kingdom to tiny
mustard seeds and to the imperceptible but certain fermentation of yeast.
As we enter
Advent, we begin it with a revelation that a change is coming. And we are told
to wait for it. To watch for it. In the coming weeks, as we light the candles
and prepare for Christ’s return and for Christ’s birth, watch, wait, and keep
awake. Or for others, as we put up the decorations and select the gifts we are
still to watch and wait and keep awake. The Good News is at hand.
No comments:
Post a Comment