Preparing The WaySunday
6 December 2020
Advent
2: Isa 40:1-11; Ps 139, 2 Pet 3:8-15a; Mark 1:1-8
Although
some may think I’m quite “green” transport wise, having a tendency to walk,
take the bus or bike… with the hybrid car as a last resort (of sorts), there is
something about a wide, fast road that is very appealing.
Maybe it’s an innate response where my inner child loves the thought of
bulldozers, graders, bitumen trucks, yellow vested workers scurrying around in
their hard hats… all intent on making rough tracks wide and smooth, bridging
the bogs, filling the valleys and carving into the hills… all to shave off a
few minutes of travel time.
Such epic road building does not come cheaply. The Dunedin Southern Motorway
system was meant to be finished in the
1960s (with the original plan having twin tunnels from Kaikorai Valley under Lookout
Point to Caversham) but was not completed until January 2016, with the last
overbridge section at Lookout Point costing 45 million dollars. Spare a thought
for Wellingtonians and the Transmission Gully motorway from Linden, which was
meant to be finished this year at a cost of $850 million, but with the latest
figures putting it at $1.25 billion and opening in September 2021.
Isaiah 41 is
a much loved scripture in the Year B advent cycle. It speaks of human frailty versus
an incredibly strong God, who expresses this in gentle nurturing. And, that superhighway
concept is quite striking. Maybe we, too, like the idea of a God who smooths
out all the rough places and makes the road easier.
However, the
reality of such a super highway is pretty tough: this kind of road building involves
serious engineering, expense and at times a quite brutal re-shaping of the
landscape.
Commentator
Todd Weir describes a particular highway the Prophet Isaiah - and also John the
Baptist - may have had in mind:
The King’s Road, which connected Heliopolis (modern Cairo) to
Damascus, literally put Israel on the map as spices, gold, textiles and olive
oil flowed through the great caravans. Unfortunately, armies travelled
the highway as well, as Egypt, Assyria, Babylon and Rome all coveted the
strategic dominance that came with subduing Palestine. It was a perilous
and wondrous journey that traversed the Sinai desert, wound through the ravines
of Petra and across mountain ranges, fighting heat, thirst, stubborn camels and
bandits along the way
Jamieson,
Fausset and Brown when reflecting on the beginning verses of Mark’s gospel
noted that
“Eastern monarchs send heralds before them in a journey to
clear away obstacles, make causeways over valleys, and level hills. So, John's
duty was to bring back the people to obedience to the law and to remove all
self-confidence, pride in national privileges, hypocrisy, and irreligion, so
that they should be ready for His coming.”
All of this
emphasises that such roads don’t magically get built until suddenly all is
ready, the ribbon is cut and off we go on an easier journey. All of the
obstacles being removed, all of the objects that need to give way, are actually
parts of us: we are the subject of roadworks that allow Christ to come and
enter into our world again.
“Prepare ye
the way” cried John the Baptist in the wilderness, exhorting people to be ready
for what is coming, to live each day as if it might be our last, to turn-our-lives-around.
And it is all dependent on Jesus, who through the Spirit makes all this
possible.
On our side we need
to be patient while this takes place – as 2 Peter chapter three puts it:
… “we wait for new heavens and a new earth, where
righteousness is at home. (14) Therefore, beloved, while you are waiting
for these things, strive to be found by him at peace, without spot or
blemish; (15) and regard the patience of our Lord as salvation…”
So, what
of Advent 2020?
Contrary to
the manner in which it is often celebrated shopping malls - and sometimes in churches
– this second Sunday of Advent described in our scriptures begins not on a note
of joy, but of despair:
· Humankind has reached the end of its tether.
· All our schemes for self-improvement,
for extracting ourselves from the mess we have created, have come to nothing.
These
scriptures call us to realise at the deepest level of our being that we cannot
save ourselves: apart from the
intervention of God, we are totally and irretrievably lost. The Hebrew
scriptures commentator Walter Bruggeman says of the Isaiah 41 passage:
“These verses are a prayer to God by a people that is
powerless and under oppression. The prayer exhibits the two main features of
genuine Advent hope: on the one hand, a deep sense of desperation about a
situation out of control… On the other hand, a bold and confident trust in God
is voiced, addressed to a God who can intervene (if God will) to make life
peaceable and joyous”.
For any of
us who at times feel we have come to the end of our tether (and maybe over the
past year there have been a few moments like this), these scriptures hold out
an incredible hope… but only when we realise we can’t do any of this anymore and
need God’s continuing intervention in our lives.
Bruggeman goes
onto say:
The prayer for God’s coming, which began in bombast, ends on
a note of needful, pathos-filled intimacy. In the end, Advent focuses not on
God’s massive power, but on God’s family sense of solidarity, the same sort of
solidarity that causes parents to do irrational caring deeds for wayward,
beloved children.
I love the
story told about Martin Luther who, although he was generally pretty cheerful,
also suffered from terrible bouts of depression. He was at one time so low that
his friends recommended he go away for a change of air, to see if he could get any
relief. He did this, but then came home as miserable as ever. When he went into
the sitting-room, his wise wife Kate (Catherine von Bora) was sitting there,
dressed in black, and her children round about her, all in black as well.
“Oh, oh!”
said Luther, “who is dead?”
“Why,” said
she, “doctor, have not you heard… that God is dead? My husband, Martin Luther,
would never be in such a state of mind if he had a living God to trust to.”
Martin
Luther burst into laughter, and said, “Kate, you are a wise woman. I have been
acting as if God were dead, and I will do so no more. Go and take off your black...”
If any of us
come to this time of Advent feeling similar desperation – never fear. We may
need to have some roadworks carried out on our souls, obstacles removed and
priorities re-set, but this can only happen when we have come to the end of our
tether and realise how poverty stricken we are: we need this alive-God to keep
coming into our lives as a humble baby – a birth that reminds us of how we have
been brought into the whanau of God.
Advent is
about allowing ourselves to be found again by God – to be changed and knowing
that this is one of the most important things we can do. We can’t find
ourselves, only God can and does.
[You may
have heard the story about a very foolish person.
Each morning when he woke up, he had such a hard time finding his clothes that
he was almost frightened to go to bed: he was plagued with fear of all the
trouble he would have on waking.
So, one
night he got himself a pencil and pad. He then jotted down the exact location
of each item of clothing as he undressed. Next morning, he pulled out his pad
and read, “pants” – there they were. He stepped into them. “Shirt” – there it
was. He pulled it over his head. “Hat” – there it was. He slapped it on his
head. He was very pleased with this until a horrible thought struck him. “And I
– where am I?”. He had forgotten to jot that down. So, he searched and searched
but in vain. He could not find himself.]
Let’s pause
for a few moments and allow ourselves [to be wise], to be found again and know
exactly where we are and who we belong to.
In the
quietness, become aware of this God who comes to us so tenderly and wants us to
turn again towards a deep and inexplicable love:
What are
some of the things we carry right now, all that weigh us down, causes us grief,
misery and despair? What clothes of mourning may we be wearing? As we name
them, can we give them to this God who cares for us so deeply? What does it
mean for us to give them up? What is God asking us to allow to be changed by
Love?
What are the
things in our lives that are obstructive… maybe not so much things we do, but
all that we don’t do? What do we need to make a noise about: poverty, housing
inequality, vulnerable, hurting, hungry children in our communities? What do we
need to do to find ourselves again… and to be found by God?
Who else is
on our hearts – our whanau, friends, co-workers, neighbours: what does it mean
for us to lay them before this same God? What does it mean for God’s solidarity
to become ours? What are we being called to do?
Finally, a
reminder of some of the words from song-writer Bernadette Farrell, based on
Psalm 139:[i]
You know my resting and my rising.
You discern my purpose from afar,
and with love everlasting you besiege me:
In ev’ry moment of life or death, you are.
Amen
[i] O God, you search me and you
know me.
All my ways lie open to your gaze.
When I walk or lie down, you go before me:
Ever the maker and keeper of my days.
You
know my resting and my rising.
You discern my purpose from afar,
and with love everlasting you besiege me:
In ev’ry moment of life or death, you are.
[Before
a word is on my tongue, Lord,
you have known its meaning through and through.
You are with me beyond my understanding:
God of my present, my past and future too.]
Although
your Spirit is upon me,
still I search for shelter from your light.
There is nowhere on earth I can escape you:
Even the darkness is radiant in your sight.
For
you created me and shaped me,
gave me life within my mother’s womb.
For the wonder of who I am, I praise you:
Safe in your hands, all creation is made new.
Amen
(Bernadette Farrell, based on Psalm 139)
https://youtu.be/7XFodUeqGqU
