"Already...but Not Yet" – Isaiah 2:1-5

Isaiah 2:1-5

The word that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem. In days to come the mountain of the Lord's house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it. Many peoples shall come and say, "Come, let us go up 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." For out of Zion shall go forth instruction, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!

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Today marks the beginning of Advent – the time of expectation, anticipation, preparation and longing for Christ (both his birth and his second-coming).  

The world in which we live is in a time of anticipation.  It is incomplete.  A world in which 1 billion people live on less than $1 a day, where religion is used to justify violence, where every day 1,500 children worldwide (the vast majority of them newborns) become infected with HIV, where soldiers return to their countries in coffins – this world is not complete.  

If we believe in a God whose creation is good; a God whose goal for the world is to usher in a new kingdom of peace – A kingdom where the lion lies next to the lamb, where weapons of death are remolded into instruments which will bring forth food from the earth.  Then we are right to expect something more; to wonders aloud “there has got to be more to life than this.”  

Today’s scripture reading from Isaiah speaks about anticipation.  Isaiah is given a prophecy concerning Jerusalem.  At this time in history Jerusalem was not the formidable city on a hill with secure walls, attracting pilgrims from all over the world.  Instead, Jerusalem and Mount Zion (which was a mere hill on the outskirts of Jerusalem) were physically unimpressive; the very symbol of international insignificance.  Yet, God designates this insignificant place to be “established as the highest of the mountains” and to become the epicenter of God’s instruction which would bring about peace on earth.

The power of Isaiah’s prophecy is that he reveals God to be “for us.”  God is on our side.  God is committed to bringing peace.  God is willing and able to use seemingly insignificant and unimpressive things to correct the course of the world.  Nothing embodies this message more than the incarnation – God coming to earth in the form of a fully-human infant, born in a barn in an insignificant town, living a life of service to others, and ultimately giving his life on our behalf and at our hands.

It is true that this is a time of anticipation.  But it is also a time or participation.  We must allow our lives to be shaped by God’s teaching.  What exactly does a life shaped by God’s teaching look like?  Well, we just read how the apostle Paul would answer that question.  He gives us a list of don’ts: don’t get drunk, don’t be sexually immoral, don’t argue, don’t be jealous, etc.  

On one level Paul’s words are hard to argue with.  I mean, can anyone dispute that the world would be a better place if we all stopped sinning?  No.  But what are we to make of the fact that we just can’t stop sinning?  After all, you can tell me hundreds of times not to do something but I can’t promise you that I won’t end up doing it.  What is important to understand about Paul is that he is not saying that we have to rely on ourselves to find the power and energy to faithfully live out God’s commands every minute of our lives.  We can only love God when we realize that God loves us – that God loved us while we were still sinners gives us the freedom to love God through our thoughts, words and actions

Let’s look back at Isaiah 2:5:
“Come, house of Jacob, let us walk in the light of the lord”

To walk in the light is not a command, it’s a promise.  Throughout the Old Testament, “light” refers to God’s provision and deliverance.  God promised to provide something which would allow us to live in the peace of a world ordered around God’s word.  And this is what we wait for in Advent.  

God’s promise of deliverance occurs in two stages.  The first occurred when God became incarnate 2000 years ago in the person of Jesus.  He brought the kingdom of God to earth through his teaching, miracles, reaction against earthly power structures, and his victory over death through his death and resurrection.  In this sense, the kingdom is described as being an “already.”  It is already here.  

Jesus also spoke about coming again, to finalize the kingdom of God on earth.  In this sense the kingdom is a “not yet.”  We are still waiting for the day when the lion and lamb will lay together in peace, where there will be no poverty, no death, no sorrow, where the insignificant things of this world will become the very instruments of God’s peace.  In Advent we remember the anticipation of Christ’s first coming, as well as his promised return.  This is not a passive anticipation, but an active participation.  We are actively participating in the kingdom of God which is already here but not yet complete.

Once while I worked as a hospital chaplain, I visited a patient on the intensive care unit.  Her chart indicated that she was in a “persistent vegetative state.”  I entered the room, walked around her bed to sit down by her side and I noticed that her eyes were following me.  I introduced myself and she grunted in response.  I asked her if she would like me to pray with her and again she grunted.  I folded my hands, bowed my head, and prayed.  I prayed that she would not be in pain.  I prayed for protection, for peace as she continued on her journey toward death.  I prayed even when the words left me and I had no idea what to pray for any longer.  

When I said “amen” she began to move.  She picked up her right arm and reached out for my hand.  When our hands clasped together she spoke, “your hands are so cold!”  As I was holding her hand I was amazed at the level of consciousness this woman was displaying.  It was here where I realized exactly what it is like to live in an “in-between time” an “already but not yet.”  She was a person who people had given up on.  A person terrorized by a great injustice of life – a person who was dying, a person who by all accounts had nothing to be thankful for.  She was utterly powerless and insignificant.  Yet, in the midst of prayer, this woman reached out.  She reached out for a hand to hold, to comfort her.  Though it was a cold hand that embraced hers, I would like to think it was comforting nonetheless.

We are all trapped inside bodies which cannot fully respond to God’s grace and love – bodies which will ultimately fail us.  Yet, we do have the ability to reach out to God.  No matter how insignificant the world tells us we are, God has promised to take our hand and hold it.  This is the same God who has promised to ultimately recreate the world into a place of peace.  As we live in this “in-between time” and anticipate Christ’s birth and return, we are encouraged to use the freedom from sins which Christ has earned for us and faithfully obey God’s command by serving our neighbors and participating in the peace which has already begun on earth.

Amen.

"Death (a.k.a. Moldy, Pea Green Shag Carpet)" – Matthew 5:1-12

Death has been on my mind quite a bit over the last month. Not in an unhealthy way; but rather in a “wow, there are a lot of things going on in my life that somehow touch on the concept of death” kind of way. Perhaps you feel, or have felt, the same way.

I’d like to share a few of the recent circumstances that death has crossed my mind because they are the illustrations that help set the stage for a new understanding of Jesus’ teaching about blessedness.

Seasonal death
Every autumn our eyes are drawn to the vibrant yellow, orange, and brown leaves. Soon the leaves will be completely severed from their source of nourishment, at which point they will fall gracefully to the ground and decompose, offering their entire bodies as nourishment to the soil. This example of death is the one we find most palatable because it is death that is predictable and doesn’t feel final. We knew the leaves would change colors and die; in the same way that we know in just a few months new leaves will emerge along branches that have grown bigger and stronger. Any sadness that accompanies seasonal death is little more than a touch of nostalgia (or fear of a harsh winter!).

Ironic death
This time of year also heralds the coming of zombies, mummies, vampires, goblins, and ghosts as we celebrate Halloween. Halloween is our socially-acceptable attempt to make death into a caricature–to depict it as something thrilling, amusing, and even humorous in order to mask our fear. This is death that is not real, which allows us to play with the concept in ways that are otherwise inappropriate the other 51 weeks out of the year.

Death through the eyes of a child
My youngest son, Kyle, has experienced two seizures in the last month. He has no history of seizures so we were shocked when he had his first one sitting on the sidelines of a soccer game. Both occasions were hellish 60 seconds of full-body convulsions, groaning, and not breathing. Turns out that the seizures are not medically serious and he might never have one again; however, the two experiences were terrifying. Nolan, my oldest, was oblivious to the first episode (he was busy playing soccer); but he witnessed the second episode. As he was riding with family to the hospital where Kyle was being rushed in an ambulance, he turned to a relative and described what he saw, saying, “Kyle died but came back to life.” Labeling the experience as a “death” shows a recognition that death is something that is frightening, traumatic, and mysterious; but not final.

Death - the end of an actual human life
I was completely shocked to hear recently that the father of one of my friends had died unexpectedly in the middle of the night. When we hear of unexpected death our impulse is to think back to the last time we were with that person, often saying, “But I just saw him last week and s/he looked fine!”

And there’s my wife’s grandfather; our last living grandfather. For several months now he’s been receiving hospice care and we’ve been bracing for his impending death. Each time we’ve seen him he seems more and more weak and withdrawn.

In the first case death was unexpected and seems unfair. In the other, death will be partially understood as relief from suffering. Both are difficult to accept; both make us feel sad.

What Jesus says about death in a scripture passage that seems to have nothing to do with death
Today we join with Christian churches across the globe in observing All Saints Sunday – a day of remembrance and celebration of people who have died. Given this context, it seems odd that the Gospel text selected for today has, on the surface, little to do with death.

There is an all-too-common misunderstanding of today’s Gospel from Matthew (often referred to as “The Beatitudes”) that the list of promised blessings to those who feel anything but blessed are promises of a future reality. Or, more concisely, these are the blessings that await us when we die and walk through the pearly gates of heaven. This misunderstanding is likely rooted in Jesus’ words: “Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven.”

But Jesus’ idea of heaven is much different that the one our culture has adopted.

For Jesus, the kingdom of heaven (a topic that is addressed quite often throughout scripture) is a present reality that is only partially visible to (or, more often, completely hidden from) us. The kingdom of heaven is, paradoxically, both an “already” and a “not yet” – it is the source of life, peace, hope, and love that God uses to sustain the world. And it is available to us right now; we don’t have to wait until we die.

It’s a difficult concept to wrap our minds around, so I’ll rely on an overly simplistic image to help make sense of what I’m trying to say: Some friends bought an old home. The home needed a ton of work as it was in disrepair and woefully outdated. They decided the upstairs carpet (a pea green shag) needed to be completely replaced, as no amount of effort would clean up the stains, dirt, and mold (or bring pea green shag back in style). When they tore back the carpet they were shocked to find it was lain over a beautiful hardwood floor.

So often what we see in our world, what we take to be true (such as wars, obscene personal weath, political power, social media “friendships,” scam artists, insecurity, disease, prostitution, winning at all costs, polka music, and so on), is nothing but moldy pea green shag carpet covering up the real truth of our world – a beautiful hardwood of life, peace, hope, and love.

Jesus makes this clear when he says “Blessed are the poor…those who mourn…the meek…the hungry…the merciful…the pure…the peacemakers…the persecuted.” In the Greek text, the verb “blessed” is written in the indicative mood and the present tense. It’s the way to say “This is the way things are, now.”

On the one hand this is a warning: Those who oppress, fail to forgive, persecute, make war, allow others to go hungry, and lord power over others, are going against the way, the truth, and the life that sustains our world. They constitute the moldy, pea green shag carpet covering up the beauty of life.

On the other hand, this is a promise. Those who are oppressed, unforgiven, persecuted, victimized, hungry, and meek, the life, peace, hope, and love of Jesus will surround us. The kingdom of heaven is available to be experienced here and now and it looks nothing like what we’ve come to expect. “When we learn to recognize such people as blessed – to call them saints – we pledge our allegiance to that new world even as we participate in its realization.”

Which brings us back to death. To me, death looks a lot like a moldy, pea green shag carpet. Death is real, yes; in the same way as war, disease, and polka music are real. But death is not the whole story. There is something beautiful beyond death – a truth that so pervasive and beautiful that death simply cannot overshadow – the truth that life is what we were created for and what we are promised.

Death is terrifying; I’ll be the first to admit it. The times when death crosses my mind I feel myself getting unnerved. But I return to the promises of scripture, the promise that death is not the end, the promise that life is more powerful than death, the promise that God created us to live and love and nothing will prevent us from doing that, no matter if we’re on this side of death or the other.

Today we come together to commemorate the dead. We acknowledge the pain in our hearts as we remember their faces and voices but know we will not touch them again. We accept their death as a loss in our lives. And yet at the same time we give thanks that they are experiencing a world free from moldy pea green shag carpet; a world where they are free to experience blessedness without any of the barriers that our sin so often throw up.

And so, I wonder if my son has it right after all. I wonder if the way he thinks about death, as something that is frightening, traumatic, and mysterious, but perhaps not final, is actually the best way to understand death.

And so, I wonder if, by understanding death in this way, that will help me experience the blessedness that Jesus promises. That is certainly my hope and prayer; my trust and my faith.

Amen.