A reading from the prophet
Isaiah. 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. 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
shall be made low. The uneven
ground shall become level, and
the rough places a plain. Then
the glory of the Lord shall be
revealed, and all people shall
see it together, for the mouth
of the Lord has spoken. A voice
says, cry out, and I said, what
shall I cry? All people are
grass, their constancy is like
the flower of the field. The
grass withers, the flower fades,
when the breath of the Lord
blows upon it. Surely the people
are grass, the grass withers,
the flower fades, but the word
of our God will stand forever.
Get you up to a high mountain, O
Zion, herald of good tidings.
Lift up your voice with
strength, O Jerusalem, herald of
good tidings. Lift it up, do not
fear. Say to the cities of
Judah, here is your God. See,
the Lord God comes with might,
and his arm rules for him. His
reward is with him, and his
recompense before him. He will
feed his flock like a shepherd.
He will gather the lambs in his
arms, and carry them in his
bosom, and gently lead the
mother sheep. A reading
from Mark.
The beginning of the good news
of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
As it is written in the prophet
Isaiah, See, I am sending my
messenger ahead of you. Who will
prepare your way? The voice of
one crying out in the
wilderness. Prepare the way of
the Lord, make his path
straight.
John the baptizer appeared in
the wilderness, proclaiming a
baptism of repentance for the
forgiveness 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. Now John was clothed
with camel's hair, with a
leather belt around his waist,
and he ate locusts and wild
honey. He proclaimed, the one
who is more powerful than I is
coming after me. I am not worthy
to stoop down and untie the
thong of his sandals. I have
baptized you with water, but he
will baptize you with the Holy
Spirit.
Before I read the epistle, grant
me a personal word of gratitude
that you extended to me second
opportunity to be here. We live
only 11 miles from this
building, but it took me a year
to get here. And I am grateful
to those four who filled in last
year when I became ill. Brooks
Holifield and Tom Frank, Barbara
Brown Taylor, Walter Brueggeman.
When I was in the hospital, when
anyone is in the hospital, you
have very few pleasant thoughts,
but the nurse once in a while
would come by and see me smiling
and say, it's good to see you
smiling. What are you smiling
about? I never would tell her,
but I was entertaining a wicked
thought
that when I fell ill, it took
four people to replace me.
I am grateful to them and to
this church and to John Simmons
or the pulpit. This is the
epistle for the second Sunday of
Advent of this year.
Here is something, dear friends,
which you must not forget. In
the Lord's sight, one day is
like a thousand years and a
thousand years like one day. It
is not that the Lord is slow in
keeping his promise, as some
suppose, but that he's patient
with you. It's not his will that
any should be lost, but that all
should come to repentance. But
the day of the Lord will come
like a thief. On that day, the
heavens will disappear with a
great rushing sound. The
elements will be dissolved in
flames and the earth with all
that is in it will be disclosed.
Since the whole universe is to
be dissolved in this way, think
what sort of people you ought to
be, what devout and dedicated
lives you should live. Look
forward to the coming of the day
of God and work to hasten it on.
That day will set the heavens
ablaze until they fall apart and
will melt the elements in
flames. Relying on his promise,
we look forward to new heavens
and a new earth in which justice
will be at home. In expectation
of all this, my friends, do your
utmost to be found at peace with
him unblemished and above
reproach. Bear in mind that our
Lord's patience is an
opportunity for salvation.
This text is a cutting from a
very thorny bush.
Some people don't even want to
touch it, understandably so.
They argue, after all, it's a
small book tucked away near the
close of the New Testament.
Under the eve of the great
revelation,
hardly seen it all against the
splendor, the terrible splendor
of that book. It's late in
writing, perhaps the latest in
the New Testament. Not all of it
is original, copied a great deal
from the book of Jude. Very
difficult to read, 55 words in
it, used nowhere else in the New
Testament.
And it's very argumentative.
Very argumentative. And we don't
much like arguments in church.
But when you remove the nettles,
when you remove the thorns, what
we have is a debate, an
argument. The issue, the
subject, is advent. The coming
of the Lord. It is a subject
about which the writer, the
author of this book, feels very
keenly. It is a very, very
important subject to the writer.
In fact, in the course of the
book, he goes on a rhetorical
rampage using all the devices
available. At one point, he goes
into a valedictory, a sort of
deathbed speech.
Our time is near. The Lord said,
I was going to die. Now I'm
going to die. And he gathers the
church around the foot of the
bed. That's very impressive, the
last words of the old writer. At
other times, he gets up on his
hind legs and just screams bad
names at the opposition. A lot
of name calling. What has him so
exercised? It's advent.
He insists. He is talking about
the apostolic tradition, true,
unadulterated, straight from
God. This is the tradition. Like
a thief in the night, the Lord
is coming. And with his coming,
there will be a cosmic holocaust
burning flames and melting down.
And the truth about every living
thing will be disclosed. And
then, there is the vision of the
new heaven and the new earth.
And in that time and place, the
justice of God will be at home.
That, he says, is the truth.
That's what we preach. Now I
know, I know, I know. Our
forebears in the faith, those
first generation Christians
believed it was going to come in
their lifetime. And it didn't
come. And it didn't come. And it
didn't come in our parents. And
it hasn't come in ours. And some
time has passed. I know that.
They believed some standing here
will not taste of death till it
comes. The time is short. The
fashion of the world is passing
away. I know they believed that.
But what you don't understand,
friends, is you've
miscalculated. A day is like a
thousand years. A thousand years
is like a day. How can you count
God's time? You're way off base
in this. And even if Christ is
being delayed, even if he's
being delayed, it's simply
another case of the patience of
God. Not wanting any to perish,
but that all repent.
He says, that's the truth. Now
the other team, the opposition,
those who scoff at this, find
the advent a very, very
important topic. In fact, I say
you've been preaching that for
75 years. We've been standing
around waiting for the Lord to
come and the Lord to come and
some sold their property. And
we've been going up on every
hillside waiting. And this is
it. Now's the time. Nothing has
happened. Oh, a lot of people
believed it when you put Crayola
markings on a piece of cardboard
and said, the Lord is coming
soon. But now when you put up a
son of concrete reinforced with
steel, most of us don't believe
it anymore. Your words have
lived way past the conviction.
Now some of us, he says, some of
us have already deleted from the
Apostles Creed that stuff about
descended into hell. Now we want
to take out another element
that's just a little old
fashioned from whence he shall
come to judge the quick and the
dead. For the truth of the
matter is this. There is not a
single documented gaze of God
intervening or God acting in the
life of any people or any person
anywhere at any time. Has God
ever started something or
stopped anything or modified
anything or helped anything or
hindered anything or healed
anything? No, everything has
continued from the beginning of
time the same, the same, the
same deadly same. Now that's the
truth. Now preacher, if you want
to go on entertaining yourself
with those quaint notions about
the presence of God and answers
to prayer and visions of a new
world where justice is at home,
if you want to engage in that
sort of activity you go ahead,
but not in public and not from
the pulpit. It's embarrassing to
the rest of us. The fact of the
matter is the truth of the
matter is this. This world, your
life, my life is going nowhere.
Life is not a line with a rise
or a slope, ending somewhere
good or ill. Life is a cycle,
just a cycle. The rain falls
into the rivers and the rivers
go into the sea and the sun
pulls up the water and the rain
goes into the rivers. And the
rivers go into the sea and the
sun draws it up and it rains
into the rivers and that's just
the way it is. And you give me
one case, otherwise.
Now some of us, of course, are
not fully persuaded by the
writer's arguments about the
coming of the Lord. But I would
like to say a couple of things
to those who scoff at it then
and now. First of all, when you
insist that there be a clear
public proof, a clear
demonstration, unmediated,
unadulterated, unambiguous proof
of the Word and the presence and
the power and activity of God,
you don't really want that, do
you? I don't think so, Tim. I
don't think so. You couldn't
stand it. The people of God have
been claiming that all along.
They screamed at Moses. Where is
God? We're hungry. We're
thirsty. Where is God? You
promised this. I don't see. God
is not here. We need a God.
There's no God here. And finally
Moses came to the mountain and
said, this is it. Get ready for
the Lord is near and there's
rumbling in the distance. And
the committee came to Moses and
said, Moses, you go up the
mountain and when you come back,
tell us what he said.
And when Moses came down from
that mountain with a blistered
face, they cried. They didn't
want it, not face to face. When
the high priest once a year goes
in through the holy place and
into behind the curtain, into
the Holy of Holies, into the
very presence of God to sprinkle
the blood on the altar for the
year, the day of atonement, the
people wait outside breathless.
He'll not come out alive. He'll
not come out alive in the very
presence of God. I wonder what's
going on in there. I don't think
he'll come out alive. And then
when the priests come out, what
did God say? What was in there?
What did you hear? What did you
see? Give us the blessing all we
can't stand it ourselves. I used
to say lots of times I've said,
when I was a parish minister, I
said it a lot. God do something
widescreen technicolor to shake
these people up. Preaching is
like a hypodermic in a
tombstone. I'm not getting
anywhere. Give us a big one some
Sunday morning and they'll say,
I believe, I believe, that's
really it. I go around saying,
and God has heard our prayers
and they wink at each other and
say, well, you know, he's paid
to say that. Answer one of my
prayers in a real loud voice.
You know, I said to them, I was
called to the minister and they
grinned and said, yeah, if God
had only called me in a voice
loud enough for my family and
the whole church to hear, I
wanted God to do something that
was not mediated and through
other channels, but just
straight and pure. But I didn't,
I didn't. Oh, it would have
scared me to death. I heard a
minister in Portland, Oregon say
some years ago, he said, I call
on the sick in my parish. I go
to the hospital. I call on the
sick. I pray with the sick. I
went in the hospital. One of my
parishioners was in there before
I could have prayer. She said,
would you pray for me, pastor?
And he said, I did. And I prayed
for her. And when I said amen,
she sat up in bed. She put her
feet down on the side of the
bed. She stood up. She put on
her robe, put her feet in her
scuffs and said, I'm well. I'm
well. And she danced around and
she grabbed the minister and
hugged him around the neck. Oh,
thank you, thank you.
I stopped to have a little
prayer and he said, don't ever
do that to me again.
When you ask, when you ask for a
good, clear, strong, documented
case of the plain, unmediated
presence and power and voice and
act of God. Really?
But more importantly, to these
who laughed at the preacher, may
I say that the problem is not
theological. The problem is not
a problem of calculation of the
second coming. The problem is
one of character. For I want you
to notice that those who
attacked the preacher of these
words are scoffers. They're
condescending. They're arrogant.
They feel superior. They know
better. They put the preacher
down. They belittle the
preacher. That, my friends, is
not a theological matter. It is
not a matter of exegesis of
scripture. It is not a matter of
interpreting the text. It's a
matter of human sin. For there
is no place, no place in the
human community for one person
to feel superior to another.
Where would I be placed? Where
would I be placed? So that I
could justifiably feel superior
to those around me, among
children, among
the sick, among the dying. Among
the poor, among the illiterate,
among the unskilled, among the
disabled. In what company, in
what company would any one of us
have a right to say, now, in
this group, I am superior?
On what grounds?
On what grounds? May I say this
to you just straight out? If
there is in you, if there is in
any one of you, any pretended
claim to feel superior to any
other human being, let your
prayer be that Christ will
snatch that from your soul.
Throw it into hell and let it
burn to a crisp, for if there is
anything totally inappropriate
and unbecoming among the people
of God, it is arrogance,
especially in matters of faith.
It is criminal sometimes in
academic communities the way
some of us talk about God as
though we knew what we were
talking about.
I sometimes find myself in our
hear others talking as though we
had walked all the way around
God and taken pictures with our
Polaroid. No, no. A few years
ago at Princeton, some of us
preacher types had gathered and
were being addressed by an
internationally famous
physicist, a man of science of
great acclaim. He permitted a
question-answer session, someone
asked, what is it that ministers
could learn from scientists? And
without hesitation, this man
said, humility. Oh, that's a
surprising answer. I thought all
scientists were rather arrogant
in all that they know. He said,
oh no, no. He said, oh, you may
have met one here and there, but
the great scientists are all
very humble people because they
stand every morning before the
mystery of all they do not know.
And if anyone should be that
humble, it would be the minister
who every morning stands before
the mystery of the creator and
sustainer and redeemer of the
world. Of course, all views are
not equally the same. Of course
they're not. Aren't you?
Disagree? Yes. Debate? Yes. But
never superior. The thing that
has haunted me through the years
is in the process of my own
growth, I thought I had to
register with other people the
fact that I had grown by telling
them in a laughing way about
what I once believed. Can you?
Can you? I once believed this. I
once believed that. And I had to
belittle the path which I had
taken. I had to sort of be
superior to all those teachers
that taught me things that I
don't believe anymore. Of course
we grow. But who is the person
that would drive by a junior
high school and say, Fui, that's
the way you got to high school,
which gets you into college,
which gets you into graduate
school?
I recall hearing Scott Mamaday
tell about an ugly scene, an
incident in a little southern
Oklahoma town. They had frontier
days in that town. Many towns in
Oklahoma celebrate frontier
days. The women put on the old
dresses of ages ago and the men
let their beards grow and they
act like frontier people. It's a
good time, a lot of barbecue and
a lot of horses in town and
things like that. He said some
of the young bucks in that
little town to celebrate
frontier days went out to the
edge of town where an old
buffalo was grazing with the
cows.
Brought it into town, found an
Indian, a Comanche Indian, an
old man, put him up on a horse,
gave him bow and arrows, tried
to get the old buffalo to run,
slapped the haunches of the
horse to get it to chase the
buffalo, and told the Indian,
shoot, shoot, shoot, we'll pay
you, shoot. And he would try to
shoot and try to shoot and the
exhausted and hot buffalo fell
on the pavement. And they pulled
the old Indian off of the horse
and gave him a couple of dollars
for his trouble. That's great.
Good fun, frontier days.
There was a time, there was a
time when that old buffalo could
shake his craggy head and woo
the others to follow in 50,000
of them in the earth trembling
from the Rio Grande to Canada.
There was a time when that
Comanche could jump a stride his
horse and ride like the morning
wind and put fear in the heart
of every settler across the
continent. But now those days
are gone. Is that any reason? Is
that any reason to
make fun? Oh, it's easier. It's
easier. It is easier rather than
expressing what I believe to
have you express what you
believe and then I can belittle
it and I can make fun of it and
I can point out the flaws. What
do you think about that? That's
ridiculous. You see, I'm not
vulnerable that way. It is much
easier, much easier to be
cynical than to be confessional.
And I just sense it in our
culture. Am I am I wrong in this
in the news reporting in
everything you read in an
audience? And now in the
churches, some real cynicism as
though people were going to
church who did not believe in
the power of Christ's presence
and the word of God, but just I
noticed in the paper, I don't
know if it's accurate, but the
man, Reginald Denny, who was
beaten up in California, they
were taping a show for Phil
Donahue and this fellow was
there and one of his assailants
were there and Reginald Denny
went over to his assailant and
took his hand and shook his hand
and said, I forgive you. And
Donahue said, cut, cut, cut. If
this is going to be realistic,
you've got to be more bitter.
And the reporter said, I
understand Reginald Denny is
suffering from some brain
damage. Is it possible? Is it
remotely possible that one human
being actually forgives another?
Oh, I just hate to see this kind
of thing creeping, creeping,
creeping into the church.
A student came to seminary a few
years ago. We fell into
conversation. I said, where are
you from? He said, Iowa. Ah, we
don't get too many from Iowa.
Where are you from in Iowa?
Well, between Ottumwa and
Keosauqua, he thought he was
throwing me there, you see. I
said, between Ottumwa and
Keosauqua, where? Well, I came
from a farm. It wasn't really a
town. It's just called Taylor
Community. I said, is that
little community church still
open there in the Taylor
Community? And he said, you know
about the church? I said, in the
fifties, I was invited there
because that church had been
closed and some people wanted to
start it again and thought maybe
I could help them. And I stayed
there for about 12 or 15 days
working in that community. He
said, it's still open. I said,
when you were there, did you
ever know a woman? She's a
crippled woman. She walked with
a cane. Her name was
Catherine. Oh, he said, of
course. She was my Sunday school
teacher for five years. She's
the principal reason I'm going
into the ministry. Oh, yeah. He
said, you know her? And I said,
yeah.
She was 18 when I met her. I was
traveling around in the
community, seeing if there was
any interest in opening that old
church again. And I stopped at a
dilapidated farmhouse and I
started to get out and there was
a big son that said, beware of
the dog. And I'll beware of dog.
And so I sat in the car, bewaring.
I didn't want to honk a horn. I
hate honking horns out in front
of houses, but I sat there.
Well, nobody came. So I gave it
a slight gentle sort of
Christian tap. And she came out
18 years old. Right nice
looking young woman, but
severely crippled walking with a
stick. We talked. I told her who
I was and what my business was.
And she said she'd heard about
it and that she would like to
come. I said, well, why don't
you come? Well, I don't know.
I'll have to go in and ask my
folk. And I said, shall I come
in and speak? No, no, no. They
are very hostile toward church.
She came out in a few minutes
and she said, daddy said, if
I'll do my chores early, I can
come, but he's not going to
bring me. I'll have to find my
own way. I said, Sunday, I'll
come by. After that, somebody
else will. Sunday, I went by.
She was dressed up. She had a
different cane. Nice cane. She
was quite happy, but nervous as
a cat, drawn in a knot sitting
there. I said, what's the
matter? And she said, I'm kind
of nervous. I said, why are you
nervous? Well, going to church.
I said, have you ever been to
church before? And she said, no.
I said, well, it's nice and the
people are nice and you'll enjoy it
and it's a wonderful place. She
said, I think I'll know all the
people, but everybody will be
talking about God. And I don't
know anything to say about God.
That's it. She had it already
and she'd never been. But in
church, you talk about God. She
was right. We do. And sometimes
this is what we say. Advent is
not a season. Advent is our way
of responding to a God who comes
to us. We didn't invent this. It
is in the nature of God. God is
the one who comes to us. Not
always according to our
calculation. Not always in the
way that we would desire. But
God does come in ways that are
appropriate to God's justice and
to God's grace. Have I said it
right? Have I said that right?
Do you believe that?
I believe that.
Shall we pray?
Gracious God,
how stale, flat and tasteless
seem all the uses of this
present world sometimes. It
seems we gather to rehearse what
never happens. We gather to
address the inhumanity in the
world only to find ourselves
like children with teaspoons
standing before an ocean. There
needs to be an end to things.
There needs to be a beginning to
things. And yet we grieve over
endings and we're afraid of
beginnings. Therefore, O God, be
the Alpha and the Omega of our
lives and the life of the world
for the sake of Christ. Amen.