Second Sunday of Advent, 23025, rcl yr a
ISAIAH 11:1-10; PSALM 72:1-7, 18-19; ROMANS 15:4-13; MATTHEW 3:1-12
in his time shall peace and justice flourish
It’s not clear to me that among the prophets of Israel, that any of them would have made for a particularly good friend. Neither would they have made for a very good pastor, or a particularly good spouse, either.
Ezekiel ate weird things: he ate a scroll, and he laid on his side for over a year eating food cooked with dung. Hosea named his children Not-my-People and Unloved (Thanks dad!) Jeremiah had a thing about dirty laundry, and Isaiah spent three years walking around Jerusalem either naked or in his underpants. So these were not people that topped anyone’s list of guests for a dinner-party.
These sorts of shocking acts though are part of the prophetic message, though the prophetic message is not always so endearing either. Because the prophet traffics in unvarnished truth: and that is that the people of God are failing to live up to their vocation as the people of God: Ezekiel was acting out, as he laid on his side and ate poopy food, a message about the consequences of Jerusalem’s unfaithfulness, that Jerusalem would be laid under siege; Jeremiah’s torn and dirty laundry was a message about Judah and Jerusalem’s coming ruination; Isaiah’s near-nudity was intended to show the weakness of Jerusalem’s protectors, nations that would be marched away in disgrace, suggesting that God’s people should not rely on foreign powers but rather on the power of God.
So the prophets preached repentance: that the people of God should turn away from their reliance on that which is not God, and to turn back to God; the prophets preached that the people of God should rule not with preference for the rich and powerful, but rather with preference for the poor, the widow, the orphan, and the foreigner. They preached that if the people of God did not turn back to God to trust in God, and keep God’s covenant, that Jerusalem would fall; and it did. In all cases but one, the prophet’s message failed: the people did not repent, the people did not return to God, the people did not keep the covenant. (If I’m counting right, Jonah’s message of repentance to Nineveh was the only one that was heard—and that story is more folk-tale than anything.)
When we turn to hear about John the Baptist, we are meant to hear resonance with the stories of the prophets of the Old Testament. John the Baptist was a strange man, communicating things by way of his manner of life just as much as a communicated things by way of his words. John lived in the wilderness; “John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey.” And John preached a message of repentance, saying to the self-satisfied and the complacent: “Bear fruit worthy of repentance.” John preached of a coming judgment: “Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees” he said; “every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”
And we are presented again with what appears to be an impossibility: the impossibility of human repentance. Because we know that Jerusalem was not saved from its destruction this time, either; and that not long after the preaching of John the Baptist, Jerusalem would fall again, this time to the Romans.
So yeah. The prophets do not make for particularly good friends, spouses or parents, or dinner guests. They ask the impossible.
Thankfully though this is only part of the prophetic message, and if we were to leave things at human failing, we would not see to the heart of God’s ongoing work in the world that lies at the heart of what the prophets teach. Because at the heart of the prophetic message is that God is ready to do a new thing for the sake of the people and the world that God loves—that God is ready to transform our hearts, replacing hearts of stone with hears of flesh; God is ready to transform predatory political communities into communities of equity and justice; and God is ready to transform the whole of his creation.
God is ready to do the impossible.
And God does: despite human failing, Jerusalem is restored to its former glory, and the exiles returned home. And the one whom John the Baptist said would come, does come, preaching a Gospel of peace to all the nations.
Isaiah’s poem begins with this: “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots …” That is, from the dead stump of a failed line of kings, one will come who will rule with justice. The one who comes from a dead stump will not be influenced by wealth or power as judgments are made; instead, “He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear; but with righteousness.” The one who comes judges with righteousness and faithfulness, for the sake of the poor and the meek of the earth, and not according to the interests of wealth and privilege.
And we are reminded here that there is a connection between social equity and justice and the natural world. It feels prescient, doesn’t it, to say that there is a relationship between the way we treat one another, and the natural world. For Isaiah, as we set aside our predatory natures in favour of justice and equity, the natural world itself will shed its own predatory inclinations: “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together … The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.”
It makes sense to us at least in a rudimentary way—we know that how we get along with one another, that how we treat one another, has an impact on the whole of the world around us. That the way we build our economies has direct impact on our environment.
Having said that, though, it’s also hard to imagine that the basic nature of creatures would change from predatory to cooperative if we were simply to build communities of equity and justice. And by this we are reminded of just how extraordinary God’s grace is—that God’s promise to us far exceeds anything we could do on our own, that God’s graceful intervention in our hearts, in our communities, and in the world itself is truly a wholly new and impossible thing. As Walter Brueggemann puts it, “[Isaiah’s] poem is about the impossible possibility of the new creation … and] the coming King will … do what the world has long since declared to be impossible.” It’s a poem about the impossible possibility of the new creation: a new creation in which “They will not hurt or destroy …; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.”
The disposition of our hearts matter to our political dispositions; that is, justice and equity does begin with the ways we treat one another, and especially in the way we treat the most vulnerable. Peace, justice and equity, doesn’t end in our hearts; it extends to political spheres, where the end of predation takes shape in faith communities, and political communities, of justice and equity. And in turn, how we live in community with one another has it’s impact on the whole world, and the creation on which we depend.
And all these impossible things—the transformation of our hearts, the transformation of our communities, and the transformation of the whole world away from predation and toward justice and equity is the work of the God who is always set to do a new and impossible thing for our sake, and for the sake of the whole world.
And so we sing with the Psalmist: “Blessed be the Lord God, the God of Israel, who alone does wondrous deeds! Blessed be his glorious name for ever! And may all the earth be filled with his glory.”
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.
As our parish musician, he provides both support and leadership so that a variety of parish programs can find musical expression and attract participation. When our handbell choir is in season, he is one of our ringers. At parish dinners, he provides popular piano music for the guests to dine by. For both worship services and concerts, he will rehearse and accompany vocal and instrumental soloists from our congregation on piano, organ, or even accordion.
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.