God fulfills Their promises: advent 1 year c

Sunday I preached again at Capitol Hill Lutheran Church for the first Sunday of Advent.  The day before, Capitol Hill had hosted the ordination of Pastor Nat Bothwell, whose spouse, Pastor Minna Bothwell, serves as pastor of Capitol Hill.  I drew on River Needham's queery of Jeremiah as well as my queery of Luke for this sermon.

I explored the meaning of Advent as well as the places of distress, fear, and foreboding in our lives and country, challenged by God who fulfills Their promises and the ways God's Word is powerful as well as the glimpses we get, like snowflakes on a dull, gray winter day or stars only visible in the dark of night.

This is the image I preached from at both worship services.

I notice the connections between the queeries and the final sermon, but if you're curious or have any other comments or questions, let me know!

god is hope in the face of disappointment: advent 3b

The first reading is Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11.

The holy gospel according to John 1:6-8, 19-28

⁶There was a man sent from God,

        whose name was John. 

                ⁷He came as a witness to testify to the light,

                        so that all might believe through him.

                         ⁸He himself was not the light,

                                but he came to testify to the light.

¹⁹This is the testimony given by John

        when the Judeans sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him,

                “Who are you?” 

²⁰John confessed and did not deny it,

        but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.” 

²¹And they asked him,

        “What then?

                Are you Elijah?”

He said,

        “I am not.”

“Are you the prophet?”

He answered,

        “No.” 

²²Then they said to him,

        “Who are you?

                Let us have an answer for those who sent us.

                        What do you say about yourself?”

²³John said,

        “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness,

                ‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’”

                        as the prophet Isaiah said. 

²⁴Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. 

        ²⁵They asked him,

                “Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?”

²⁶John answered them,

        “I baptize with water.

                Among you stands one whom you do not know, 

                        ²⁷the one who is coming after me;

                                I am not worthy to untie the thong of their sandal.” 

²⁸This took place in Bethany

        across the Jordan

                where John was baptizing.

The gospel of the Lord.

-----

When I was in college, one of my majors was Spanish, which required me to spend at least one semester in a study abroad program in a Spanish-speaking country. 

I was really excited about this—I’d traveled some and part of my interest in a Spanish major was because I loved getting to know new cultures and new people.

So, as I prepared for my semester in Argentina, my excitement only grew as more and more of my fellow students told me that studying abroad would be “the best experience ever!”  When I finally dove into my five months in Buenos Aires, ready for an unequivocally awesome time, I … was disappointed.

My study abroad experience wasn’t terrible.  I made friends in and outside my program, some of whom are still friends today, and I got to know a lot about Argentine culture and history.  I learned a lot in my classes and I did a lot of soul-searching, discovering more about who I was and, like John in today’s gospel, who I was not.  I also, as with many people spending time in big cities, got catcalled.  I spent more than a few lonely nights at home.  And I had plenty of miscommunications to deal with.

All in all, the experiences that made up my five months in Argentina were probably no better or worse than anyone else’s study abroad experiences, but I had definitely gotten my hopes up ahead of time.  Everyone had said that it would be amazing and not once did someone suggest that there would also be times that were hard or lonely or even just awful.

I wasn’t expecting the hard times because nobody had mentioned that there would be any.  I thought it would be great all the time.  I don’t know if you’ve ever had an experience like that—planning the perfect party or vacation, or even a holiday celebration that only ends up with disappointment—but the original hearers of today’s readings would have been quite familiar with disappointment.

In our first reading, Isaiah is speaking to a people who are finally back from exile, which they’ve longed for for what feels like forever, and it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.  Life isn’t all of a sudden perfect like they’d thought.  The devastation of the exile is still too present in the destruction of cities, the hard memories of their time in exile, and the changes they’ve experienced. 

And yet Isaiah proclaims, “The spirit of the Sovereign God is upon me, because the Sovereign has anointed me; God has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners. ”  Isaiah’s message, which Jesus will reiterate in his ministry, is good news for those disappointed people. 

This liberty, this release, this good news doesn’t have the delivery time that every online retailer currently seems to be offering—“oaks of righteousness” do not grow over night, after all. 

Isaiah states that “as the earth brings forth its shoots, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, so the Sovereign God will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations,” but he never says it’ll be quick.  The seeds are planted and will grow into oaks … eventually, but not on the timeline of these people who have finally returned from their exile and just want everything back to the way it “should be” now.  Patiently or impatiently, joy will come, but now it’s time for them to wait.

Like those early Israelites returned from exile, the Judeans in the gospel reading are also waiting.  They’re anticipating this coming messiah, and John seems like a pretty good candidate, so the religious leaders send some priests and Levites to investigate.  Filled with hope and expectation for the one who will deliver them from the oppressive rule of the Roman Empire, they ask, “Who are you?”

John’s reply, however, is another disappointment. 

John.  Is.  Not. 

“I am not the Messiah.” Not Elijah, not the prophet.  Not any of the really important titles they want to give him. 

Instead, John is the voice.  The voice crying out not of despair, but of hope—in preparation.  The voice who is a witness to the one who is coming.

John’s call in this moment is to hope and prepare for the one who is to come.  John’s work—crying out in the wilderness—may seem a bit fruitless.  But those seeds, scattered with his words on the wind and splattered with the drops of baptismal water, will find a landing place.  John’s witness will take root in the one to come—the one who shall be called Jesus.

In this time of Advent, we wait and hope.  We wait for Jesus to come again.  We hope for God’s reign to be made manifest all around us.  We wait and hope for peace.  We wait and hope for Good News in the midst of disappointment. 

Even as we sit in this Advent time of knowing that God wins—that Jesus conquers death and evil—we are also sitting in this disappointing time of God’s reign not yet fully on earth as it is in heaven.

This Advent time when the seeds are planted and may even be sprouting, we are still far off from the sturdy “oaks of righteousness” to come.  And yet, this is the time that we make for ourselves.  To join with John in preparing for God to come—bearing witness to Jesus and sharing the hope of a God who will come to us as the baby of homeless peasants who will soon flee to Egypt as refugees.

This time of waiting anticipates joy to come—it knows the ending.  And we can look back to Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, we can look back at the ways that God has been at work, not only 500 years ago during the beginning of the Protestant Reformation, but every day before and since. As I look back on my study abroad experience in Argentina, I am grateful.  While it was an experience filled with both disappointment and joy, I recognize God’s presence and work in me through that time.  Without it, I wouldn’t be the pastor I am today.

The holidays to come will also be joyful and disappointing.  They will be filled with memories both good and bad, which will bring any number of feelings up for us.  And yet, in all of those memories, God is with us.  In recognizing God at work in the past, working for good even in the midst of disappointing situations, we gain hope for the future that God is bringing about—a future of hope, a future of joy, and a future of Good News for us all.  Our hope rests in the oaks springing up, in the One who comes to us as Jesus, the Word of God, God-With-Us, Immanuel, our Hope and Joy.

Thanks be to God.

advent 1 year b

This series has now moved over to my other blog: https://christianityisaqueerthing.blogspot.com/

Mark 13:24-37

²⁴“But in those days, 
     after that suffering,
          the sun will be darkened,
          and the moon will not give its light,
          ²⁵and the stars will be falling from heaven,
          and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. 
     ²⁶Then they will see ‘the Human One coming in clouds’ 
          with great power and glory. 
     ²⁷Then the One will send out the angels, 
          and gather the elect from the four winds, 
               from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

²⁸“From the fig tree learn its lesson: 
     as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, 
          you know that summer is near. 
     ²⁹So also, when you see these things taking place, 
          you know that the One is near, 
               at the very gates. 
     ³⁰Truly I tell you, 
          this generation will not pass away 
               until all these things have taken place. 
          ³¹Heaven and earth will pass away, 
               but my words will not pass away.

³²“But about that day or hour no one knows, 
     neither the angels in heaven, 
     nor the Child, 
          but only the Parent. 
³³Beware, keep alert; 
     for you do not know when the time will come. 
³⁴It is like a person going on a journey, 
     when they leave home 
     and put their slaves in charge, 
          each with their work, 
     and command the doorkeeper to be on the watch. 
          ³⁵Therefore, keep awake—
               for you do not know when the master of the house will come, 
                    in the evening, 
                    or at midnight, 
                    or at cockcrow, 
                    or at dawn, 
                         ³⁶or else the master may find you asleep 
                              when they come suddenly. 
               ³⁷And what I say to you I say to all: 
                    Keep awake.”

Queeries for the text:
Is darkness a trait of the Human One?  And of great power and glory?
Is darkness good?
Is tenderness a sign of the coming of the Human One?
Will the Human One be undocumented?
Who is the master?
Is being exhausted but awake better than being woken up in the middle of sleep?
Does this poetry speak deep into anyone else's soul?
What does it mean to "pass away"?
Do the elect from the four winds come from the four directions?

God's imagination is bigger: advent 4

The holy gospel according to Matthew.

¹⁸Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way.

When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph,

       but before they lived together,

              she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit.

       ¹⁹Her husband Joseph,

              being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace,

                     planned to dismiss her quietly.

              ²⁰But just when he had resolved to do this,

                     an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said,

                            “Joseph, son of David,

                                   do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife,

                                          for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.

                                   ²¹She will bear a son,

                                          and you are to name him Jesus,

                                                 for he will save his people from their sins.”

²²All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord

       through the prophet:

              ²³“Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,

                     and they shall name him Emmanuel,”

                            which means, “God is with us.”

²⁴When Joseph awoke from sleep,

       he did as the angel of God commanded him;

       he took Mary home as his wife,

              ²⁵but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son;

                     and he named him Jesus.

The Gospel of the Lord.

------

One of my favorite TV shows is Joan of Arcadia.  In the show God, in various personifications, show up and talks to a high schooler named Joan.  In one episode God asks Joan to keep her friend Adam’s art piece out of the art show.  When Joan doesn’t, Adam wins the art show, sells his sculpture, and decides to use the money to quit school. 

Joan is distraught.  Realizing why God didn’t want the piece in the show, she does the only thing she can think of in that moment: she smashes Adam’s sculpture.

Joan encounters God again toward the end of the episode and lists all the ways she tried to stop things—talking Adam into not entering the show, buying the piece herself, stealing it.  Nothing else worked and as she gets ready to blame God for “making her” destroy the sculpture, God says, “Don’t blame me for your failure of imagination.”

Joan and Joseph are in similar situations.  He is as good as married to Mary according to custom and law, only to find out that she is pregnant and it’s not his kid.

What’s a guy to do?  Divorce is the only option he can imagine.  It’s just a matter of doing it quietly or publicly.  He can bring her to the public square, which would bring shame to her and her whole family, or he can “dismiss her quietly”—get a quick divorce and send her back to live with her family and raise her child, if her family will have her back, that is.  With any luck—which she’d need a lot of—she will survive all of this, the child will as well, and they can all move on with their separate lives.

Joan and Joseph both have a failure of imagination.  In fact, we as humans quite frequently suffer from failures of imagination.  We can only imagine two less than ideal, and usually mutually exclusive options.  We have created an either/or world. 

Joan can either brake Adam’s sculpture or let him quit high school.  Joseph can either quietly divorce Mary or make it into a public scene.  We can either provide military support to the Syrian government besieging Aleppo or provide military support to the rebel forces fighting back.   

We can either get into arguments or talk only about neutral topics and to people with whom we agree.  We can either be upset about the new school or support our students.  We can either want justice or forgive someone who has wronged us.  We can either be sinners or saints.  We can either be sick or whole.  Jesus can either be human or divine.  God can either be three or one.

And then God steps in, saying, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. ²¹She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”

God’s imagination is bigger than ours.

Joan could have asked the woman who bought the sculpture to make her purchase contingent on Adam staying in school.  Joseph can remain faithful to Mary and help raise Jesus, who is Immanuel, God-with-us.  We can support Doctors without Borders and the White Helmets who are rescuing those left behind in Aleppo.  We can seek to understand each other’s perspectives when we disagree and have conversations about how we care differently for the most vulnerable. 

We can volunteer at the new school to show our care for the students, and appreciation of the staff.  We can forgive others for harm and hold them accountable for helping restore the community that was fractured by the wrong they committed.  We can be both sinners who do wrong and saints, made righteous by God through our baptism.  We can struggle with illness and be so full of love that we draw a community together in support and care.  Jesus is both fully human and fully divine.  God is both three and one, the holy Trinity.

God’s imagination is greater by far than ours and God’s embrace, despite our best efforts, is wider.  God in Jesus is both fully human and fully divine.  Jesus does experience the ups and downs, twists and turns of human life with us.  God-with-us, Immanuel, is also big enough to embrace the whole cosmos, to bring all of life and love into being.

When we are struck with a failure of imagination, it only takes a brief search in the Bible to find our imaginative God who brings both light and dark into the world, who advocates for justice and peace, who restores wholeness to individuals in communities.  Who comes as human and divine, who acknowledges the reality of human institutions of authority and God’s reign, which holds ultimate authority.  Jesus brings an alternative to violence—renewed opportunities for relationship and resistance to evil that does not require violence. 

When we are faced with a failure of imagination, God-with-us, Immanuel, fills the world with endless imagination.

Thanks be to God.

How far is it to Bethlehem? meditation: advent 3

Today we journeyed with many to see the child who is God come to dwell with us.  We have journeyed on camel and by foot for longer and shorter distances.  We journeyed with all of these people from the comfort of our pews.

Throughout the world, people are sharing this journey, wondering, “How far is it to Bethlehem?”  Some make the pilgrimage to the Church of the Nativity to worship in Bethlehem on Christmas Eve, some to the nearest church building.  Last night Mary and Joseph walked down Mill Street.

In Mexico, the 9 days before Christmas, beginning this week, mark what is known as Las Posadas, during which the community gathers with Mary and Joseph, visiting different houses, requesting lodging—posada.  Through the sung exchanges at each house, those on the journey, those outside, ask for lodging and those inside deny it until, at the end, those inside recognize and welcomed in those on the outside.  Then everyone gathers—in a home or in the church, to pray around the nativity, sing Christmas carols, and break open a seven-pointed, star-shaped piñata. 

Different countries and cultures celebrate and commemorate Christmas in unique ways.  Our journey to Bethlehem took place today and will take place again soon.  In Palestine and Mexico they journey to Bethlehem in a different way and yet we all make the journey together.

We are all almost there—almost to Bethlehem and Christmas, and the closer we get, the more we remember—with both joy and sadness—those who have gone to Bethlehem with us in years past, and wonder at who will make that journey with us this year.  Though love is at the heart of this journey, it can be a sad one for those who are missing loved ones who’ve died, or ones who are away from home.

Yet these journeys we’re on are also the journey of Jesus.  The journey of God coming to Bethlehem, to be with us and the journey of Jesus, who walks with us along our paths of faith.  As we wonder what will come, Jesus wonders that as well.   Jesus wonders with us and walks with us.  We journey to the incarnation, the love of God come to dwell with us, as a baby in a feeding trough. 

God who walks with us is also God who shows up unexpectedly along the journey, as a baby, a stranger, a friend, and a loved one.  Jesus just keeps showing up for the journey, asking, “How far is it to Bethlehem?”

Prayer and Ceremony at Standing Rock: advent 2a (readings are from 3a)

The readings I reference are: Isaiah 35:1-10 and Matthew 11:2-11.

As B mentioned, I shifted this week from full-time to part-time.  And as I shifted into that, I took some of the extra time I had this week to search in the wilderness, like the crowd Jesus is talking to in today’s gospel.

In my searching I found: prayer and ceremony, holy ground, and sacred work.

The wilderness I went to was in what we know as North Dakota.  A colleague of mine in the Presbyterian Church and I left on Wednesday night and travelled through the night to Standing Rock.  We went for different reasons and the same reason.  We went because we felt God calling us to be with the people gathered at Standing Rock.

We didn’t go with great expectations of overthrowing something. We didn’t go with much of an idea of what we would find.  We read up and we did our homework, but mostly we went knowing we would camp, probably in the snow.  And both of us were grateful for it.  And we brought it back just for you.  I know, my gift for you.

We went and when we got there, we arrived in the morning and we had an orientation and they had a couple meetings and gatherings to help people who were recent arrivals.  They’ve had such an influx, that they do this every day to help people figure out what it means to be at Oceti Sakowin Camp.

And the orientation began, as all of the gatherings that we had did, with prayer.  They invited any of the Lakota, Dakota, or Nakota Elders who were there to share a prayer if they wanted.  And if they didn’t, then they opened it up to any indigenous elders, and then people of color, and then anyone to share a prayer to both begin and end our time together.

But it wasn’t just that we prayed at the beginning and at the end.  There were signs up everywhere and the message that was repeated over and over again, is that we were there for prayer and ceremony.  So often in the news we talk about Standing Rock and the Dakota Access Pipeline and we think that it’s all this political thing and there’s conflict and there’s violence and nonviolence and everybody is so tense and wound up.  But that’s not what’s happening at the camps.

The entire place is a place of prayer and ceremony, so when we went to meetings, we were going to meetings that were prayers.  There were two fires set up in our camp that were Sacred Fires that burned continuously.  And there was a person for each who guarded the fire and tended it.  We offered tobacco and sage and sweetgrass.  We gathered around to sing, to pray.  There were drum circles.

People came from all over and brought things.  Brought their own struggles and brought their own prayers. 

And we worked.  We worked in prayer, so that when we were moving donations around in the kitchen and organizing, it was prayer.  So that when we were stacking wood and clearing the snow off of it, so that it would be ready to use for the Sacred Fire when it needed to be refueled, it was prayer.

When we were doing dishes in the kitchen and doing the roll your sleeves up with wet hands dance, it was prayer.  Everything we did was prayer.

While we were there, there was a group that did do a direct action, in addition to simply being present as a direct action.

The Morton County Sherriff’s department had put out a list of donations that they were requesting.  At the top of the list were thoughts and prayers and then it had disposable plates and silverware, snacks to eat, handwarmers, those sorts of things.

The Indigenous Environmental Network and the Indigenous Peoples Power Project  put out a statement before going, and they said, “The Oceti Sakowin camp is a prayer camp, and a resilient, self-sufficient community. The camp is full of abundance-- in spirit, in humanity, and in resources. Oceti Sakowin has enough to share. Generosity is an original teaching for the Lakota.”

So they went to the Morton County Sherriff’s department and they prayed for the sherriff’s department and they gave them what they had requested on their donations list.

I’ve never understood what 1 Thessalonians means when it says, “¹⁶Rejoice always, ¹⁷pray without ceasing, ¹⁸give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”

That was what I learned there.  I’m sure I learned more and will find more things in the days and weeks to come, but we really and truly prayed without ceasing there.

We prayed when we gathered in the morning before the sun was up, before we could see anything except the lights from the sherriff’s department shining on us.

We gathered and sang songs and prayed.  There was smudging.  And then we had a water ceremony and we lifted up the water that is life.  Something that we know about as Christians—this water that is life.  This water that is infused with God’s presence and God’s Spirit.  For us, we claim this most clearly in the waters of Baptism.

As water pours over beloved children of God, claiming them in full and abundant love.  So we lifted up this water together—water from what we know as the Canonball River and water that people had brought from their own homes.  We lifted it up and we shared it.  And then we went to the river together.  And as we went, we sang water songs.  We would occasionally pause to declare that “Water is life. Mni Waconi. Agua es vida.” In the language of the people present, we declared that water is life.

We went to the river and offered tobacco and prayers at the water’s edge and we sang more songs and we prayed more prayers.  And as we sang and as we prayed, the sun came up over the hill across the water and we gave thanks for the sun, which we hadn’t seen since we had arrived.

It reminded me of our reading from Isaiah: “¹The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; … waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; … the ransomed of the Sovereign shall return, and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.”

As we returned, we gave a ride to someone who was ultimately heading to Philadelphia.  They joined us as far as Minneapolis.  As we were going back and reflecting on our time, she asked a question that had come up throughout our time from a variety of people.  “how do we continue to do everything in prayer and ceremony as we’re leaving Standing Rock?”

It is my question.  It is my prayer. 

How do we come here and shovel the snow as prayer?  Sing songs as prayer?  Cook food, clean food, clean bathrooms as prayer?  To drive as prayer—and not just the kind that’s afraid of going off the road in snowy icy snowy weather?  To work as prayer? 

To know that everywhere we go and everything we do is prayer and ceremony.  The ground we are standing on is holy sacred ground.  Not because we make it so, but because God made it so when God created all that is.

And so, as we move into this week.  As we move through Advent, especially, and into Christmas, my prayer for you is that your life, your waking, your sleeping, your moving, your resting, may be prayer and ceremony as well.

Amen.

-----

For more information, please visit the following links:

On the decision by the Army Corp of Engineers not to grant an easement: http://standwithstandingrock.net/standing-rock-sioux-tribes-statement-u-s-army-corps-engineers-decision-not-grant-easement/

On more information, including a link to Transfer Energy Partners' response: http://sacredstonecamp.org/blog/2016/12/2/obama-administration-denies-final-easement-whats-next

For information on the camp we stayed at: http://www.ocetisakowincamp.org/

For more information on Standing Rock and the Dakota Access Pipeline: http://standwithstandingrock.net/

Jesus is coming! - Advent 1a (readings are from 2a)

The first reading is Isaiah 11:1-10.
The second reading is Romans 15:4-13.

The holy gospel according to Matthew (3:1-12)

¹In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea,

       proclaiming, ²“Repent,

              for the dominion of heaven has come near.”

       ³This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said,

              “The voice of one crying out

                     in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Sovereign, 
              make straight the paths of the Sovereign.’ ”

       ⁴Now John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist,

              and his food was locusts and wild honey.

⁵Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him,

       and all the region along the Jordan,

       ⁶and they were baptized by John in the river Jordan,

              confessing their sins.

⁷But when John saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism,

       he said to them,

              “You brood of vipers!

              Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?

              ⁸Bear fruit worthy of repentance.

                     ⁹Do not presume to say to yourselves,

                            ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’;

                     for I tell you,

                            God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.

                     ¹⁰Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees;

                            every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down

                            and thrown into the fire.

¹¹“I baptize you with water for repentance,

       but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me;

              I am not worthy to carry his sandals.

              He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.

                     ¹²With a winnowing fork in hand,

                            he will clear the threshing floor

                            and will gather the wheat into the granary;

                                   but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

The gospel of the Lord.

-----

Advent is finally here!!  Jesus is coming!!

And I just need to say: It’s about time!  I am ready for Jesus to just show up already!

The world is big and scary. December is so busy and it’s still only November!  People are sick.  People are hurting.  And I just need Jesus to make it all right.  And this vision Isaiah casts is a vision I can get behind.

Out of a tree that ought to be dead comes a new shoot—unexpected life trying once again even in the face of death.  A new one to lead—with the Spirit upon him, strong as can be, faithful, full of integrity, fair, and speaks a powerful word.

That doesn’t sound half bad, if you ask me.

And if God is promising it, then I have hope because when it comes to God’s promises, God usually comes through even bigger than promised.

Jesus is coming.  And even as I desperately want Jesus to hurry up, I also wonder what it will look like when Jesus arrives.

The vision that Isaiah casts with a persistent shoot out of the stump of Jesse, wisdom and righteousness, and harmony between those who currently fall into kill or be killed roles is compelling.  That peace and tranquility, like an evening curled up by the fire with a good book, is something I long for and Paul’s letter to the Romans echoes it.

Christ is the fulfillment of God’s promises. All that God has promised throughout history is made manifest in Jesus—and then some. Christ is the hope for us Gentiles.

But then I get to Matthew and think, “Who is John talking about?!”  I mean, yes, there’s the connection with Romans about God fulfilling the promise to Abraham, making children out of stones and all, but the rest of it?

If Jesus is the shoot coming out of the stump of Jesse, what is the ax doing lying at the root of the trees? I’m not sure I want Jesus to come if it means cutting down trees that don’t bear good fruit or if it means being baptized “with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

I’m just not sure I’m bearing enough good fruit or have enough grains of wheat in me to outweigh the chaff.  I mess up all the time; I am definitely a sinner.  I don’t want to end up on the wrong end of John the Baptist’s Jesus.

Really, though, it’s almost as if John and Isaiah are talking about two totally different people.                        What if they are?

What if they are each talking about the one they want to come—the one who will support them and agree with them—instead of the actual One who is coming.  What if they are like us and read scripture and find confirmation of their beliefs?  What if they are reiterating the part of God’s vision that gives them the most hope, that gives them power or authority?  What if they are making the One who comes in their own image?

But even so, the One who is coming still manages to blow all of their expectations out of the water.  Because God is bigger than our categories.

It’s like the elephant we were talking about earlier.  [Mentioned in the children’s sermon: how people placed around an elephant with blindfolds on will all describe the elephant differently according to their experience of it.]

We feel our way around God and get a little bit of insight into who God is, but ultimately, I might think that God is thin and flat like an elephant’s ear and you might think God is long and hairy like an elephant’s tail, wide and wrinkly like the side, or long, curved, and smooth like the trunk.

The beauty is that God is each of these and more.  In choosing to love us by coming to be human and to be with us, God does comfort us and God encourages us.  God does bring new life from what once was dead.  God does challenge us.  God calls us to repentance when we sin.  God cries with us when we hurt and grieve.  God calls us into solidarity with the oppressed.  God calls us into a different way of being in the world.  God loves us.

Because God is bigger than either Isaiah or John can imagine on their own and God is bigger than we can understand.  That is the gift in our community of faith.  God gathers us together to share our wisdom, to find each other’s good fruit and grains of wheat, to learn about each other’s experience of God.  God gathers us to protect the child and the lamb and the fatling; to temper the wolf, the bear, and the lion, until that day Isaiah talks about truly comes. 

God is big enough to create the entire cosmos and God is big enough to hold all our thoughts and ideas about who God is and what God is like together.  God is big enough to hold our contradictions and differences, to hold our busy-ness and distractions.  God is big enough to hold our many understandings of God together.

And so as we take a deep breath and get ready to dive into the busy-ness of the coming month, I wonder if God is not doing a similar thing.  Breathing deeply and then diving toward us.  Setting the little child in motion so that as Isaiah says, “⁷The cow and the bear shall graze, … and the lion shall eat straw like the ox” “⁶The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together.”

Jesus is coming, as both everything and nothing we could imagine.  Jesus is coming as a sprout out of the stump of Jesse, with an ax and winnowing fork in hand, and most importantly, Jesus is coming with love.  For you.  For me.  For our neighbors, our friends, our enemies, and for all of Creation.  Jesus’ love is big enough to hold us all together

Thanks be to God.