Creating Diversity, by Chris

Let me ask you something. What do a corpse flower, a blob fish and a star nosed mole have in common? Well to answer that question we have to go back. Way back. Way way way way back to the beginning. To creation.

         In the beginning it says the earth was dark and formless, like the middle of the ocean on a pitch black night. And God moved along the waters and saw that it was very...dull.  A Dark formless void is not the most exciting place around. Why? Because it is all the same. So God said, “Let there be light!” And there was light. Now suddenly the elements had doubled. There was light and darkness. Twice as much as before. The first dichotomy of the universe.

It is interesting that this story begins with the creation of light. Do you remember the story I told last year about Jenny the Jellyfish. Jellyfish were the first creatures to develop a sense of sight, and they did that by being able to distinguish light from dark. It is the first, but the most primitive way to see the world. Light and Dark.

         And there was morning and there was evening, the first day.

         On the second day, God was surveying the waters. God could see them better now with all the light. Lots of waters. Miles and miles of water. It was calm and peaceful. Never moving. Never going anywhere. And God saw that it was...dull. Lifeless. This calm body of water was fine for a while (like a day maybe) but then God came to realize that it just sat there. Boring. So God separated the waters. God took the waters and created a dome that rose above the oceans below. And God called this dome, sky.

         Now the Bible stops there, but we, with the benefit of science and history, can read a bit deeper into the story. What God really created on the second day was...anyone...weather. By separating the water, God created what we now call an atmosphere. By making water vapor God created the clouds that move across the sky. With the atmosphere there could now be wind to blow across the water. Wind, which we use as one of the symbols of Spirit. By moving the water into the sky, God also created rain which we use to symbolize cleansing, renewal, and life-giving nourishment. And let’s not forget fog. If you are an East Bay or San Francisco resident, fog is a constant companion this time of year.

         Water separated. Weather created. And there was morning, and there was evening, the second day.

         So on the third day, you would think that God would be happy with everything. God made tons of different kinds of water. But God looked at the clouds in the sky, the sea swirling below and God thought, “It’s all just water. Sometimes its light, sometimes is dark, but it is always just water. It is so insubstantial. I need another element.”

         So, the Bible says, God gathered all of the water into one place and made land appear. A whole new element was created. Earth. Rock. Formed. Solid. Not like formless water. This was something new. Something different. It is interesting to note that the water was gathered and the land arose not to replace the water, but to compliment it. And what a compliment it was. God did not create just one kind of landscape. Oh no. There was much diversity. Giant rising mountains with deep dank caves growing inside them. Large rolling hills, flat sweeping plains, massive erupting volcanoes, and far reaching deserts.

         And God looked upon this land and decided it needed a little decoration. Something to, you know, spruce up the place. So God created “plants yielding seed of every kind, and trees of every kind bearing fruit with the seed in it.” And sure this included oak trees and apple trees and grape vines and the lovely green grass in your yard. But it also included the corpse flower. “What is a corpse flower?” you ask. “Known by its scientific name, Rafflesia arnoldii, this parasitic plant has no visible leaves, stems, or roots. But it does boast the world's largest single bloom that can grow over three feet across and has a hole in the center that holds six or seven quarts of water. It gets its name from its smell which reeks of, you guessed it, rotting meat. But it is this smell which attracts insects that it relies on to pollinate. Gardeners, you may want to consider this next season. Just one of several amazing diverse plants.

         If the corpse plant does not do it for you (I personally find it fascinating) then just think of all of the different kinds of fruit that you can taste at the supermarket. Think of all of the color of flowers to see. Do you know that there are over 100 species of roses alone? Truly God was getting this diversity thing down. What stated as nothingness has now erupted into color. Land. Vegetation. Diversity had sprung. And there was morning and there was evening the third day.

         Fourth Day. God looked away from the little blue dome for a second and into the universe. Probably because all of those plants needed some time to grow. God looked into space and decided that it needed some energy. And God said, ‘Let there be lights in the dome of the sky to separate the day from the night; and let them be for signs and for seasons and for days and years, and let them be lights in the dome of the sky to give light upon the earth.’ And it was so. 

         There are two interesting things at work here. One is that God created something to nurture life on Earth. The sun it says rules the day, while the moon rules the night. They are reminders that God is taking care of us.

         Secondly, God effectively creates a way to mark time. Debates about creation versus evolution aside, it is amazing how much value this story gives to the creation of time. A whole day. The sun and the moon are signs to mark the seasons, signs to mark the days and the years. These are the first measurements, the first markers of order in the universe. Another way that God takes care of us, but giving us order.

         And there was morning and there was evening on the fourth day.

         So fifth day we are back on earth. God saw that the earth was teeming with life. Vegetation and fruits of all kinds. But then God took a look at the waters, and saw that they had been neglected while all of this gardening was happening. The land was beautifully decorated. By contrast the waters both on the bottom and in the sky looked so empty and boring. So God filled them. God said, ‘Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the dome of the sky.’         

Now God was on a diversity kick. After creating all of the strange, colorful and interesting plants, God turned that same kind of attention onto the birds and fish. There are 10,000 different species of birds. 10,000! Any bird watchers here? Have you made it to 10,000 yet?

And there are fish of all kinds. Weird stuff too. If you do not believe me, just go home and do a Google image search for weird fish. If you do you might come across this guy, the blobfish. The blobfish are found off the coasts of Australia and Tasmania. They live in deep ocean and are rarely seen. To move, the blobfish spreads out its blob-like body and floats right above the see floor. It needs neither oxygen nor muscle power to move. It eats whatever floats into its mouth. It survives because it has no known predators. I mean, would you want to eat this?

So the blobfish, the 10,000 species of birds, and the rest are all part of the wonderful creation that was morning and evening on the fifth day.

On the sixth day, God must have gotten up early. I imagine that God was up all night trying to think of all of the ways that the great success with the air and ocean could be applied to land. God probably looked at all of the vegetation and thought, “Wouldn’t it be great if there was something or someone here to enjoy all of this?” So God got to work. God created animals to appreciate the tallest trees. Here is a giraffe. Now many think of a giraffe as a majestic animal. Personally I think it is a bit goofy looking. But God made the giraffe to appreciate the tall trees.

However, God also made the star nosed mole. Whereas the giraffe explores the high vegetation, the star nosed mole prefers the land underground. Now you can see how it gets its name. But this odd looking feature is extremely important in this creature’s underground habitat. In addition to keeping dirt out of its nose, the mole’s 22 tentacles are extremely sensitive to touch and to electrical impulses and allow the moles to find their invertebrate prey without using sight. So after six days of creation God makes something to live in and appreciate the darkness in the whole thing started. Fascinating.

But after the mole and the giraffe and all of the other land creature were made, God was still not done. Though God had made everything in the world, there was nothing that could truly appreciate creation and its scope the way that God does. So God decided to create humans. God created them in God’s image. Now many people think that this means that God looks like us. Others think that it means that humans have a soul like God separating them from the other creatures. But you want to know what I think? I think that it means that we are blessed with the ability to create. Now many animals can create things; this is true. Just look at a spider’s web or a birds nest and you can see evidence of this. But humans are the only creature with the kind of tremendous foresight it takes to create murals, gardens or architecture. We are the only ones that can think ahead to make something that will be used and seen for generations to come. And it is with this ability to create that we can appreciate creation. God gave us the blessing of being able to look at this planet and be awestruck by its diversity. We can look on it and see that it is good, the same way God saw that it was good.

And there was evening and there was morning the sixth day.

So how do we take this charge that is given to us by our creator? How do we learn to appreciate diversity? Diversity in our world? Diversity in each other? It reminds me of a joke. A violinist gets into a cab in New York City and asks the cab driver, “Do you know how to get to Carnegie Hall?” The cabbie responds, “Practice practice practice.” And that is what we have to do. To fully appreciate others we have to practice.

So what keeps us from practicing? For some it might be fear. Fear of difference can be a very powerful force. Just ask anyone who fought for civil right in the 60’s, or any Muslim American in the wake of 9/11 or anyone who identifies as gay, or transgendered, or any other sexual minority that has faced persecution because of who they are. Fear of what is different is only one step away from ridding the world of difference. But that is the opposite of what we have learned in this beautiful creation story. We are not creatures of destruction. We are creatures of creation. We are not products of limited diversity. We are products of flourishing diversity. It is time to start living like it.

Our outreach challenge this week is to have a conversation with someone who comes from a different culture than you, or has a different way of life than you live.  I invite you to open your minds up to meeting new people, seeing things in a different way, and being changed. I invite you this week to appreciate this diversity in others the way that God appreciates the diversity in all of creation.

I started this sermon with a question. What do a corpse flower, a blobfish, and a star nosed mole have in common? The answer is that they are all part of a diverse and wonderful creation. As am I. As are you.

And the people said...Amen

Easter Economics, by Chris Shade.

I have to start this sermon with a confession. I love P.W.P. television shows. Anyone know what these are? Well I will fill you in. P.W.P. stands for people with problems. You may have seen these kinds of shows before. They usually follow some person around for a given period of time and showcase their particular issue. It can be anything from drugs to hoarding food or junk to eating laundry detergent. But what is most fascinating about these shows to me is not the actual problem.  What’s fascinating is the revelatory moment. This is the moment when the main person discovers that he or she is in need of help. In that moment their perspective shifts and a new life becomes possible. When it works they are able to put their old ways behind them and move into a new future of change and happiness.

In a revelatory moment, one’s eyes are flown wide open. People become like the blind man that Jesus healed. The scales that were once there blocking the vision of the truth fall away. There are many stories like this in the Bible. Though they might not have a strange addiction or crazy obsession, they do have revelatory moments that change their lives forever. Think of how Moses must have felt when God appeared to him in the burning bush. He could not just walk away from that and pretend it did not happen. From then on his life was forever changed.

Yes there are many of these stories of revelatory moments in the Bible and I would venture to guess that we could each come up with one in our own lives. However, historically there is none that is so powerful and formative for us as Christians as the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. And as powerful as it is for us, imagine how it must have been to those who walked and talked with Jesus. Their simple lives became overwhelmed with the formative power of this man and his teachings. Talk about a revelatory moment. Nothing after would ever be the same. They were living in a new time. A new consciousness. They were living in rapid change with a message to help steer it. Starting to sound familiar yet? Are we not also in a rapidly changing environment with a message to help shape it?

So they have their revelatory moment. They have witnessed the love that could not be buried, and they have been tasked to spread it out into the world. The question that remains before them is “How?” This brings us to our scripture today. Acts 4:32-35...

         But...Before we delve into this, it is important to see the context. Previous to this passage, Peter and John had been arrested by the chief priests and the elders for performing a healing. And you know it was miraculous because the text is clear to point out the man was over 40 years old! When they were questioned they made it clear that the healing was done in the name of Jesus. The authorities wanted to punish them, but they couldn’t because all of the people were so overjoyed at the miracle done on this impossibly sick man. So they released Peter and John warning them not to speak to anyone in the name of Jesus. Peter and John returned to their community and prayed for boldness to continue speaking and healing in Jesus name.

I mention this context because I want to make clear that the stakes were very high. They had been arrested. They were being threatened. And perhaps worst of all, they did not know what the future was going to hold for them. Loyalty, togetherness, and faith were all they had. That and a few possessions. 

Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. ³³With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. ³⁴There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. ³⁵They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need. 

At first this might sound like a simple lesson on sharing. After all sharing is great. Isn’t sharing something that we try to instill in all of our kids? Whether you are a parent, a teacher or a youth (or Logos) leader, sharing is one of the fundamental lessons that we try to teach our children. After all, nobody wants to raise spoiled selfish brats. Unfortunately, sometimes, we do a better job of teaching it than we do acting it out.

Now, I am a big proponent of sharing. I love sharing. When Renee and I go out to eat, we make sure to get something that the other person wants too so that we can share. What’s more, I live in a community house, a house that was so inspired by this passage that we try to live it day to day by sharing our food, our living space, our personal lives, and our feelings. Yes even our feelings. Once a week we get together and go around the room sharing what is going on with us personally. We provide support for each other and togetherness. Living in community is not always equal and it is not always fair, but it is always shared.

So yes, I love sharing. But this passage is about more than just sharing a sushi roll over dinner or talking about feelings. Remember lives are at stake here. I think taking this story and trying to tell it as a tale of economic morality takes away the deeper lessons that are implicit. By stopping at money we are only hitting the surface level. It would be like stating that Aesop’s Fables are just a bunch of nice stories about animals.

To find the real heart of this story, I think that we need to go back to the revelatory experience of the apostles. Remember that they are in this new time period. The old has passed away and they are living in the new. What was important in the old life, freedom from occupation, gaining wealth and power, being religiously obedient to the chief priests and elders has all become secondary. In its place are the teachings of Jesus. The power of the resurrection. Gaining equality. Healing the sick.  Giving hope to the hopeless. Spreading a message of love and forgiveness.

It certainly was not easy for these early believers. They realize early on that if they are going to do this they are going to have to rely on two very important things: faith in God and unity with each other. And I am talking about a kind of grand encompassing unity. The kind of unity that the psalmist wrote about in Psalm 133. This psalm has such a beautiful message. In it the psalmist describes unity as something that is as precious as sacred oil.  It is a unity that spreads like a flood going all the way from Mount Hermon to Zion, which, for those of you not up on your Biblical geography is a really, really long way. This unity is blessed, it is abundant and it is sacred. This is what the apostles were trying to achieve.

And to do that they had to give up a piece of themselves.  Sure we can cite land and possessions as what they gave up, but that is just a small indication of how the Spirit moves them in this new life. They have seen the sacrifice that Jesus made and seen what it takes to be committed to this new way of being. It takes giving up a piece of themselves in order to make the greater whole strong.

It is like links in a chain. If you have a bunch of separate links unconnected then the chain is not going to be very effective. It is only by the links giving up a bit of themselves and creating space, that they can be connected to one another, and once together, the chain becomes strong.

And this is where we enter the story. This is where we can see our place in the tale. For we too are seeking a greater unity. What are you holding onto today that is keeping you from achieving this great unity in your life? Unity with your spouse, family, loved ones, or church? What is the space that you are refusing to yield so that you can be a part of the chain?

Perhaps you are holding onto the need to be right. This can be a very difficult one to let go. Being right is so great. But it is also alienating. If you are right, and you know the kind of right I am talking about, then that means that someone else is wrong, or at fault, or to blame. There is a marriage therapy quote that says that you can be right or happy. Often you cannot be both. How much could be achieved if you gave up the need to come out on top? What kind of connection could you make if you did not have to be insistent on being right.

Perhaps you are holding onto worry. Anyone ever worry, concern yourself about something that has not even happened yet. Here’s a little poem for you...

A bit of worry I suppose,

Will keep you up on your toes.

But too much and you will find,

You will almost lose your mind.

Worries isolate us. They put us in our head and keep us from trusting those around us to support us. They can also get in the way of our relationship with God who we believe loves and cares for us. For those of you who cannot let your worries go, I invite you to do this little task. Carry a little book with you and any time you are worried about something, write it in the book. At the end of the week, look in the book and see how many of those things actually happened. I predict that you will find that it is a very small percentage. What would happen if you gave up some of these worries and united with those around you in trust and support?

         Perhaps you are holding onto grudges. Anyone have one of these? It is a great word that sounds like what it is: a big muddy thing that is hard to move. It can also be a great hindrance to unity. Marriages, families, friendships and even churches break up because people hold onto resentments that they can never get past. After all, anger is easy. Retribution is easy. But it is not fulfilling. In retribution there is no closure, no peace. Any reader of Batman can tell you that. Peace can only come through forgiveness. And this may be the hardest thing on the list. Forgiveness is difficult. But it is also liberating and not just for the one being forgiven, but for the one doing the forgiving as well. If the whole human race could live with the practice of forgiveness, think of how united we could be.

         So today I ask you, do you feel the kind of unity that the psalmist was speaking about all those years ago? If not, what’s holding you back? When the first century believers posed this question, the most obvious answer was their possessions. And we can choose to stop there. Or we can delve deeper and try to understand what was really going on with them in this story. They were not just giving up their stuff. They were giving up a piece of their lives. They gave of themselves for love, for equality, and for unity. Those are the true economics of Easter.   

Wilderness Sermon, by Chris.

Anyone remember the days of radio? Do you remember the show Dragnet? It started out as a radio program and then moved to TV and the movies. The main character Joe Friday was a police detective and was famous for his catch phrase. Anyone remember it? “Just the Facts Ma’am.” That’s right, No embellishments. No opinions. Just the facts. I think that Mark, our gospel writer this morning, would have appreciated Joe Friday. Mark writes this gospel in a Dragnet sort of way. Just the facts. Quick clean.

It starts with a Baptism. A humble quiet Jesus comes to his cousin, wild man John, and asks to be baptized. He then goes immediately into the wilderness for 40 days. He is tempted by Satan and waited on by angels. And at the end of the story he emerges and is ready to proclaim the good news, ready to bring about the kingdom of God. Quick simple. Just the facts. But if you are like me, it makes you wonder, what really happened in that wilderness?

The wilderness story is the one that begins our Lenten season. And like Lent, we could look at this story in many different ways. We could see it as a solemn time of reflection. We could see it as a time of deprivation and suffering. But I like to think of it as adventure. And when I think of adventure, I start getting the John Williams music in my head. (cue music). For those of you who do not know, John Williams who turned 80 this year, is a composer who has written just about every adventure movie score in the modern era. Superman, Harry Potter, Jaws, E.T., Jurassic Park, Indiana Jones and or course Star Wars. Basically, if you were going to have an adventure, you would want John Williams to write the music for it. When I hear it, I think of all of the great heroes that have had adventures before me. Heroes like Odysseus, Joan of Arc, and of course, Indiana Jones.

If you have ever read Joseph Campbell’s book, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, you will know that many heroes follow the same path, what they call the hero’s journey. See if you think this matches Jesus’ adventures in the wilderness. The hero leaves home, goes into a place that he or she has never been, encounters many trials, gets help from unexpected places, and returns changed. I think, using this formula, we might delve deeper into Mark’s story and find the adventure of Lent.

The first stage of the hero’s journey is leaving home. Now home can be a literal home or it can be a figurative one. Most of the time it is both. Odysseus begins his journey on an island far away from the love of his family. Joan of Arc leaves her meager farm life to join the ranks of the French Army. And Indiana Jones is supposed to be a teacher, but you how often do you see him in a classroom. At the beginning of our scripture today it says that Jesus came from Nazareth which was his home. He leaves his place of upbringing to come and be baptized. But not by a rabbi. He goes to this wild man John who has been living out in the middle of nowhere eating honey and locusts. It was at the very least unconventional. So Jesus leaves his literal home, and the home of convention. But he goes a step further. He leaves civilization entirely and goes out into the wilderness. Mark writes that the Spirit drove him there. Well, the Spirit could not have picked a place more un-homey place.

This is the second phase of our hero’s journey, strange lands. The wilderness. Now some scholars think that the wilderness Jesus went to was a rocky region, but when I think of the wilderness I think of desert. Barren expansive desert like the one on the front of the bulletin. Now don’t get me wrong, I love the image of the wilderness. It is powerful and spiritual. The wilderness is a paradox. It is everything that is nothing. It is a place where people cannot be, and yet Jesus is there. It is a place that does not support life, and yet it fosters growth. It is special. That is why it is such a great image for the start of Lent. That is why it is such a good place to begin transformation. Think about it. In the wilderness there is no distraction. No development. There is silence. And there is also no judgment. No preconceived notion. No opinions. It is untouched. It simply is. On a spiritual level, this wilderness is a reflection of our inner selves. There is a place in us that seeks to do away with what has been built up. There is a place that seeks to put an end to judgment. An end to opinions, noise and clutter that fill up our souls. To get back to what is simple, what is purely ourselves. To simply be.

The wilderness is a tough place, no doubt. But on some level it has to be. If it were fertile, if it were habitable, if it were easy, then it would cease to be special. It would become like every other place and it would lose its purpose. It must remain tough in order to be true.

Lent is similar. It may be challenging, but that is what makes it special, set apart from the rest of the year. Lent affords us the opportunity to take a reflective journey, to evaluate from where we have come, where we are, and where we hope to go. Perhaps today you are dealing with great stress. This time is an opportunity to sit with it and transform it. Perhaps you are holding onto great anger. This is a time to reflect on where that anger comes from, acknowledge it and let it go. Perhaps there are struggles and fears that perplex you and keep you up at night. Lent is a time to face those fears, and overcome them. That is what we mean by transformation.

As you may have noticed, time in the wilderness is not all quiet and easy. At no point in the story does it say that Jesus was on vacation. Quite the contrary. It says that he was tempted by Satan. As if the wilderness itself wasn’t enough.

This takes us to the third part of the hero’s journey, trials. Without tests the hero cannot prove his worth. Odysseus had to resist temptation from the Sirens and take down the mighty Cyclops. Joan of Arc had to face the skepticism of her commanders not to mention the armies of the British. And Indiana Jones? Well, aside from a giant boulder chasing him, he has those pesky Nazis to deal with.

Jesus’s trial is the temptation by Satan. Now Luke and Matthew expand on the story with a bunch of details, but Mark keeps it simple. Just the facts ma’am. He simply says Jesus was tempted, which leaves us to wonder, what was so tempting? Was it the gift of cool satisfying water? Was it delectable morsels of delicious food? Certainly these would have been tempting after days living with nothing. But I think that something more crossed the exchange of Jesus and Satan.

I picture Jesus sitting alone in the rocky barren wilderness thinking about all that he was to accomplish. As his ministry unfolds before him, he starts to see the grandness of its scope and difficulty. All that he is to do and all that he is to be begins to appear insurmountable. Perhaps a bead of fearful sweat emits from his brow. And at the moment Satan appears with a great offer. Satan says to him, “Just forget about it. Give up. Nobody is making you do this. You really do not have to.”

Have you ever faced this? I call it the give up voice. When something gets a bit uncomfortable or difficult it pipes up. “Hello? Yes, it is me, the voice of ease. What you are doing is too hard. Stop now, okay.” For some of us, Lent represents more than a time of reflection. It represents difficulty. It is hard to look at ourselves. It is hard to make the changes that we need to make in order to become the people we are meant to be. The give up voice says, “Ugh, forget this. Just wait until Easter when everything is cheery and white.” The journey through the wilderness and the journey through Lent is a time of talking back to that voice, telling it that we are going to go ahead and persevere. To create transformation, we have to begin with perseverance. That is the reaction Jesus has to Satan. He does not give up. He does not give in. That is what makes him the hero of the adventure.

Though we often associate the time in the wilderness as alone time, the text does mention that there is some company. It says that angels waited upon him. The fourth stage in our hero’s journey is one marked by spiritual helpers. Odysseus gets a boost from some of the gods like Athena who is his biggest fan, and Hermes who comes to get him off of the island. Joan of Arc famously had visions of Saints guiding her in France’s conquest. And Indiana Jones is aided by the magical and mysterious artifacts that he finds. Jesus has angels waiting on him. Again Mark is sparse in his description, but I think that this was more than just some heavenly room service.

Whatever the purpose of the angels, we can assume that they were caretakers. This is an encouraging detail because it reminds us that we are not completely alone on our spiritual journey. Though we must face our temptations and our trials ourselves, there is assistance to provide care and help if we need it. Angels are everywhere. This is obvious to anyone who has been through serious illness or grief in this church. It never ceases to warm my heart at the outpouring of support that people offer one another. Like angels in the desert they come, providing food, support, companionship, and even just a hug. There are angles in the face of adversity. Mark knew it, and I know it too.

Another detail worth mentioning is that the angels come after the temptation with Satan. Like in the hero’s journey, there are trials before there are helpers. The angels are not there to make everything easy. They are there to assist when things get too difficult. It says that they provide care, not answers. That is something only the hero can discover when they overcome the trials set before them.

The last stage of the hero’s journey is the return. The hero does not stay on this journey forever. The tests and temptations result in a breakthrough that creates the person that they always knew that they could be. Like the butterfly that emerges from the cocoon, they return home to show their true self to the people that they left. Odysseus returns to his wife a changed man, Joan of Arc returns to stand trial as an empowered and invigorated woman, and Indiana Jones? Well, he begins his journey as an atheist, but does not end it that way. At the end of the Mark passage today, Jesus returns from the wilderness with a definitive proclamation, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’ Now, does this sound like someone who is trying to discover himself? No, of course not. This is not the same man that was quietly seeking Baptism from his cousin 40 days earlier. He has persevered through hardship. He has resisted the temptation to give up. He has been transformed. Before the people stands a fully realized person ready to begin his ministry and be an example to all.

For those of us take this journey into the wilderness there is great potential for transformation. How will you emerge from the end of Lent this year? Will you risk transformation? Will you venture into the wilderness and dare to look into yourself? Will you face your fears and your dreams with the potential to be what God truly wants you to be? If you do, I warn you it will not be easy. You will face demons and trials. You will face temptation. You will face the give up voice. But if you persevere, if you dare to adventure, then you will tap into great potential. You will see yourself as God sees you. You will be a person that you were born to be. You can be the hero. If you believe you can, say amen.

God is my rock, by Greg

Let us pray: May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O God, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

A part of me is up in eastern Washington state today ... later today members of the church I grew up in, along with most of the members of my own family, will be gathering to celebrate the life of a man who was the father of my best friend during my teen years.

Skip Arnold was a Rhode Island native who drifted West like so many others. He and his wife Shirley set up shop in the valleys east of Spokane, joined a church, started a family, made a life. It was midway through that story, in the early 70’s, that my family moved to Spokane Valley, joined the American Baptist church there, and met the Arnold family. It wasn’t long before Skip Jr., or “Skippy” as we always knew him, was one of my closest friends. I cannot even fathom the number of days and hours we spent together at his home or mine.

Big Skip, as Skip Sr. was always known, was a short, heavy barrel of a man, with a big heart, but a clear mind and a quick tongue. You really wanted to stay on Big Skip’s good side if you, as a squirrely young teenager, didn’t want a swift quick on the backside. He was a good and loving man, but he knew right from wrong and he wasn’t a bit shy to let you know what side of that equation he thought you were on. After my own father, I believe it would be fair to say that Big Skip was the most influential man of my teenage years.

Big Skip married a good hearted Rhode Island girl named Shirley and she became like a mother to me. She was as loving, sweet and kind as Skip was brusque. Until just a couple of years ago, we would always receive a long, kindly, hand-written Christmas card from Shirley telling how they were and asking how we were. It was that dreaded lung disease, pulmonary fibrosis, that robbed Big Skip of Shirley two years ago and not long after that, Big Skip suffered a stroke that made him a virtual prisoner in his own body ... and only last week was he finally granted an eternal parole from that dreaded confinement.

I’ve been mingling thoughts, this week, of Big Skip and the Psalmist’s deep, deep words of faith ... and I find myself wondering if anyone ever thought to read Psalm 62 to Skip as he lay in his bed ... wondering ... wondering what lay ahead ... wondering what his life meant ... wondering what his soul stood on in that “time between times”. Did anyone read these words to Skip and if they did, could he identify with the psalmist and did he find comfort and hope in these words from the psalmist’s heart?

For God alone my soul waits in silence,

for my hope is from God.

God alone is my rock and my salvation,

my fortress; I shall not be shaken.

On God rests my deliverance and my honor;

my mighty rock, my refuge is in God.

Skip was never a man of “flowery” faith ... he was a bull of a man who worked with his hands and his sweat and the strength of his broad back. As with so many families, Shirley was the more spiritually effusive of the two. Skip’s faith was sunk deeper, you might say ... buried deep in the bedrock of his person. It might help to know that Skip was a “driller and blaster” ... it was his vocation to operate mighty pneumatic drills that bored into solid rock where charges of dynamite could be planted so that a way could be made for roads. There probably aren’t many men alive, except for Skippy who is also a driller and blaster, who’ve worked their way into more acreage of solid rock than Big Skip. If ever there was a metaphor for the solid, grounding reality of the heart of the universe, a metaphor for God’s own being, it was “rock” and I think it was in that “rock” that Skip found his footing and his grounding. And I have to think that in these last few years when his earthly soul had little else in which to find joy or meaning, that the God who was in his soul’s bedrock never let him down, was a firm and reliable place to live and, finally, to die.

On God rests my deliverance and my honor;

my mighty rock, my refuge is in God.

The potential deep comfort of these words to someone at the end of their rope seems obvious. When there is nothing left to hold on to, we can at least hold on to God ... and in that time between times we are graced to discover that God is enough. (HWS)

If you are here this morning, it is because you have thus far been spared the horror and indignity of being bedridden and incapable of self-care. To one degree or another, we who are present today continue to enjoy a good measure of independence and health—all in all, life is still good.

But we live in uncertain times in an uncertain world. And who among us will bet the family farm on that “uncertainty” changing in any foreseeable future? As long as this planet’s population keeps growing, and as long as this planet’s resources remain finite, and as long as this planet’s wealthier and more powerful inhabitants refuse to invest their best energies and thinking and resources in creating a world where children are no longer born into hunger and fear ... as long as these things remain true, uncertainty will be our truest certainty. That’s the world I was born into ... that’s the world I live in now.

That is not to say that I have or we have given up on the world and given up our hope for the world. Not by a long, long shot. Not while I have breath and, I hope, not while you have breath. But it is to say that we perceive the world and our lives within it with few delusions, which is, I think, the healthiest and most honest way to live within the world ... if not the craziest. But we also live within the world as followers of Jesus, another clear-eyed soul who loved the world he lived in. And if we wish not to be crushed by the concerns of the world while working hopefully on behalf of the needs of the world ... well ... we’d better be grounded in some pretty solid stuff. We’d better know where to stand and on whom to stand.

God alone is my rock and my salvation,

my fortress; I shall not be shaken.

So ... what are you standing on?

What are you grounded in?

What gives you strength?

What gives you hope?

Where do you stand when storms come and storms blow?

What is saving you now?

What does it mean to bore down into the rock? What does it mean to be “anchored” in that which is undeniably deep and firm and trustworthy?

Last week we spoke of the din and distractions of the holiday season and so much of life that makes it hard to “hear” the still small voice that can whisper our true name and speak peace to our souls. It is a parallel thought to say that that same holiday season that also symbolizes materialism at its worst ... the avalanche of stuff that buries us ... preoccupies us ... impoverishes us ... and whets our appetites for even MORE stuff. It seems to me that the shallower the human soul and spirit gets, the greater the need for stuff to make up for the lack of depth and meaning that stuff just can’t provide. There is a hunger and anxiety that seems palpable in our world and in people who surround us that is easily exploited for a profit.

I was with my pastor friend, Katie Choy-Wong recently, and she told of her recent sabbatical travels to China, to the village from her family came to this country several generations ago. She said that the region where her family came from use to be all farms, nothing but farmland ... and now, she says, it is only factories as far as the eye can see ... factories that churn out the junk that you and I are so desperate to have. I know that when I get home, I’m going to hear a wail of woe and despair from my lifemate.

At their worst, our human lives become littered on the surface with such a depth of debris and detritus and distractions that there’s little hope of finding anything solid underneath on which to stand. All this, you understand, from someone whose desktop, at its worse, can look like the county landfill.

When the earth shakes us ... when changing life circumstances shake us ... when crumbling economies shake us ... when failure of family or friends shake us ... when our health or lack thereof shakes us ... where do you stand? Can you find the rock of your salvation? Have you got a firm place to put your feet ... and your faith?

And if a thick layer of “stuff” can keep us from finding firm footing, from finding the rock of our salvation ... what does anxiety and fear about the future do for our rock-finding?

I am of the age when AARP starts stuffing your mailbox with their repulsive membership cards and come-ons for their magazine. Come on, I say, I still think of myself as a somewhat older, but still young, young adult. Retirement and all that that entails is still off on some impossibly far off horizon ... isn’t it? Isn’t it???

Well OK ... so it isn’t. A recent evening found us sitting with Dana Murphy at a teacher’s retirement seminar ... at Ruth’s Chris steak house of all places—but it was a lovely dinner ... and hosted by an insurance company who wants to help you buy ... assurance ... freedom from anxiety and fear, right? ...

One of the most remarkable changes in our culture is the emergence of the whole world and culture of retirement. And it is, at its root, grounded in the specters of anxiety and uncertainty and fear. For those who will soon plunge headlong into retirement ... how much is enough? How long will I live? Have I saved enough? Will I have healthcare? Will I be a burden to my children? Will I be alone?

There’s really something here terrifically at odds with what used to be conventional thinking about facing the future. Now we face the future with faith ... aaaaand a WHOLE LOT MORE ... Our whole culture is obsessed with “securing the future” ... selling our souls, nearly, to make sure we are comfortably and predictably ushered into our infirm years and, finally, into the grave. No shocks ... no surprises ... nothing but safety and security. I’m having trouble putting my finger on this, but there seems to be something almost nihilistic about this. It’s like slowly increasing the level of barbiturate until we gently fade from the scene. I think we should acknowledge that there is a whole massive industry whose sole purpose, nearly, is to terrify us with haunting visions of impoverished golden years where you are kept alive with food stamps and the E.R. room of the county hospital. “Dear friend,” the retirement counselor says to you with a heavy hand on your sagging shoulder, “no price is too high to avoid such a specter.”

But ... but ... my hope is from God.

God alone is my rock and my salvation,

my fortress;

I absolutely know that our stuff cannot give us life or save us ... and I doubt the ability of even the best “securities” portfolio to give us the security and peace that our souls most crave in uncertain times ... a security and peace that cannot be shaken by a shaky world economy.

So ... what are you standing on?

What are you grounded in?

What gives you strength?

What gives you hope?

Where do you stand when storms come and storms blow?

What is saving you now?

What does it mean to bore down into the rock? What does it mean to be “anchored” in that which is undeniably deep and firm and trustworthy?

Skippy—my friend Skip Jr.—said on the phone last night about his mom—who died two years ago—that she’d spent her whole life getting ready for the place he now imagines her in. That’s not an articulation or understanding of what’s beyond this life that all of us here would use or share—though some would ... but in this life while she lived it, that simple, sturdy, resilient faith of Shirley’s never failed her, never let her down, always upheld her even as her health failed and the end of her life on this earth drew near. And I trust and pray the same was true for Big Skip, may he rest in God’s good peace. Simple faith ... and .... simple trust.

For God alone my soul waits in silence,

for my hope is from God.

God alone is my rock and my salvation,

my fortress; I shall not be shaken.

On God rests my deliverance and my honor;

my mighty rock, my refuge is in God.

Perhaps it should be said that this sense of grounding ourselves in God’s bedrock is not for everyone ... perhaps not even everyone here—whether it is that we doubt the nature of the rock, or doubt ourselves to be able drill into it—our strength or our ability or our “faith”. Or perhaps such an understanding of God smacks of a simple-minded piety that you have spent the bulk of your adult life evolving beyond ... or fleeing. Maybe we’ve just become too sophisticated and urbane to do anything more than wistfully wish we still had our drills and the faithful courage to use them.

Perhaps we should turn the image around ... perhaps we are the nearly impenetrable rock and God is the gently dripping water that slowly bores God’s way into us ... if we will allow it ... if we will not shield ourselves from God. When I am hiking in the high sierra, one of the phenomena at which I most marvel is where water has run across the high mountainous granite slabs for eons ... carving straight and curving channels, sculpting circular bowls of all sizes, shaping and reshaping the solid bulk of the mountain. Time and persistence make the granite, to the patient water, like clay. And so it is for the one who will simply wait upon God ... for God to do with us and for us what God will do ...

For God alone my soul waits in silence,

for my hope is from God.

God alone is my rock and my salvation,

my fortress; I shall not be shaken.

On God rests my deliverance and my honor;

my mighty rock, my refuge is in God.

People of Shell Ridge, wait upon God ... trust in God ... be rooted and grounded in God even as God seeks to be rooted and grounded in you.

Amen.

Listening, by Greg

I have been enjoying introducing Alex to some of Puccini’s great Arias ... including “O Mio Babbino Caro” from one of his less well known operas. It is such an extraordinary thing to close your eyes and allow the passion of this almost painfully beautiful piece of music to cascade down upon your ears and your soul. I know very little about Puccini, but listening to his music almost feels like you’re looking through a window into his soul.

Alex is glad that we’re now listening to Puccini or Bach or anything besides the nearly non-stop onslaught of Christmas music that I’ve subjected my household to for the past couple of months.

We have just come out of a season that is notable for, among other things, its sound ... the nearly non-stop din of seasonal music and bells ringing and general “hubbub”. One of the things I’ve always appreciated about this month ... the month of January ... is the quiet ... the cessation of sound ... the chance to still oneself and to ... simply listen. To this day, our New Year’s day worship of two weeks ago remains a gift for the calm and quiet worship we enjoyed together. During the closing guided meditation, we were told repeatedly to “smile and breathe” ... a simple, but effective spiritual practice.

This past Monday and Tuesday I joined a group of my colleagues for a brief time of retreat ... the theme of the retreat was “Sabbath Keeping” and one of the important “duties”, if you will, of Sabbath Keeping is, simply, listening ... ceasing to speak and slowing your activities and opening up your mind and your heart and your soul to ... whatever is there to be heard. Several times during our retreat we simply sat in silence ... our eyes closed, our bodies relaxed, our minds relaxed, as well, and open ... open to whatever gifts might come to us when we cease activity and speaking for a time.

Our friend Trevor, who preached last Sunday, came out from snowy Vermont to join us at our Sabbath Keeping retreat, because he knows, as I know, that our ministry and our personal spirituality is deepest and most effective when we take time to pause and grow still and listen. After the retreat, Trevor took leave of us for a couple of days and drove to the coast. Wednesday, he told us, he made a “day of silence”, that is ... where he did not speak. He even carried a note with him that explained to people he might encounter that he was observing a day of silence. One young woman at a store said to Trevor, who was speaking again by the time he returned to our home, “I’d love to ask you about your day of silence ... but ... I guess that wouldn’t really work, would it.”

One of the potential hazards of being a human being is that we forget that communication is a two-way process ... we too often get the “speaking” part down, but forget that “listening” is the critical other half of the equation of communication. For as many years as I’ve performed marriages, I’ve always reminded soon-to-be-married couples of the sage advice of the wise old Stoic philosopher, Epictetus, who said “We have two ears and one mouth, so that we can listen twice as much as we speak.”

Some of us were born as “chatty Kathy’s” and stilling our voices, for a time, does not come easily to us. But whether we are naturally chatty or not, learning to cease speaking and to listen remains a challenge for most of us. No less of a challenge is to turn off the noise and distractions to which we modern creatures seem almost addicted. It would be interesting to observe our neighbors in a number of places ... on the bus, on the street, in their homes ... and see how many have a compulsive need for sound or information ... see how many must have the television running, the ipod playing, the social network buzzing, the smart phone or the home computer chugging out its information. It might be our neighbors ... it might be us. Too often it is only when we lie down in exhaustion to sleep that we let go of these things and allow silence to envelope us.

Silence and stillness can help open what we might call “the ears of our souls” ... that is, while we are in a posture of receptiveness and listening, it is listening at a deeper level that we are seeking ... to deepen our listening opens us to hearing, finally, the gentle voice of God ... the heart of another person ... the world and its “hopes and fears” ... and even the voice of our own hearts.

To “listen” to the voice of another isn’t simply to hear their words, but it is to seek to understand their heart and their purposes and their concerns. Listening is an act of “knowing” ... it is a communion of souls where the “other” becomes more deeply known to you.

Young Samuel, that we’ve heard about this morning in our scripture reading, models for us that simple receptivity to the voice of God. He keeps hearing his name called and once old Eli sets him straight about who’s doing the calling, Samuel demonstrates for us how to find communion with God: “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.” It is Samuel’s openness and willingness to wait for the voice of God and to listen to the heart of God that helps him play a critically important role in the life of the nation of Israel as a judge and a prophet. It is Samuel’s discernment of God’s heart that allows him to help Israel in the selection of its rulers ... first Saul ... and then David.

Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.

Voices of Healing, by Greg.

We sometimes will speak about “scars” that we have within ourselves ... that is, lingering evidence of wounds we have sustained in our living and loving.

I have some scars within ... some knotted and twisted “places” that you cannot actually see, but I can “feel” at times. I also have a pretty fair collection of scars on the outside ... I have scars that were inflicted upon me by doctors who needed to get inside my body and fix things.Other scars were accidentally self-inflicted ... you know the fascination boys have with sharp, dangerous things ... and fire ... and stuff that goes “bang!”. It’s a pure wonder that I’m alive and have nearly all my “parts”. But the thing about all of my scars that amazes me and is worth noting is that they are all evidence of healing. The scar is the symbol and the sign that my body has amazing powers of recovery and regeneration. And so it is with you ... and so it is with our earth and all of creation.

Broken things can become whole ... wounded things can heal ... empty things can be filled ... sadness can become joy ... uselessness can become new purpose ... loneliness can become belonging.

We live in a world where hurt and brokenness is all around us. Some of the hurt and brokenness is very personal ... very close. I ache to think of some of the sadness I know that has touched each one of us here. Who has not known loss ... disappointment ... emptiness ... failure? This week we received the annual Christmas photo and letter from my late best friend’s family. The photo of this dear, dear family shows three members, now, instead of four. Jan wept to see the photo. I did my weeping while writing these words.

We cannot escape the wounds and brokenness that come by virtue of being alive ... or by loving and caring for others ... or by the accidents that can sometimes befall us ... or by the occasional cruelties of others ... or sometimes by the enormous cruelties that are the part of unjust and oppressive systems.

And yet, remarkably ... and we might even say “miraculously”, our inner and outer wounds and brokenness are most often graced by healing ... remarkable healing ... by the knitting together of broken bones and broken hearts ... the return of stability to our inner systems and balance to our ruptured emotions. We can know healing ... and restoration ... and renewal. And God’s grace and gentle love is a part of every healing ... every restoration ... every renewal.

We live in a universe where healing and renewal are a part of the natural process. And yet, we might say in this setting of faith, that at the very heart of this universe, we understand that the Spirit of our loving God conspires and works tirelessly to bring healing and wholeness to every heart and hearth and nation to where it is needed.

Healing is a mysterious blend of God’s divine Spirit and the natural powers of creation and our own modest efforts. And it is not always a “cure” that results from our efforts and nature’s influence and God’s “healing.” Sometimes the healing is an inner one that cannot yet stem the tide of illness or difficulty that has beset us. And in this life and this world where we know we are mortal, sometimes that is just the way it is. And yet in the wider circle of God’s love and care, and surrounded by loving community, let us be encouraged to find peace in that ... and great joy while we live and with each living breath we draw.

We have been standing at the threshold of the stable ... the edge of the manger for several weeks now ... like expectants parents waiting for the contractions to begin. But this “birth” that gets hinted at in Isaiah is more like a re-birth ... the conditions out of which this re-birth is occurring is not what we hope for ourselves or this world ... brokenheartedness ... captivity ... impoverishment. These are symptoms of things that have gone wrong ... symptoms of a body or a world in need of repair ... a new start ... a new life ... healing and restoral.

For all of the difficulty that the “occupy” movement has had to find traction and a focused message, it is, at the heart, a cry that speaks of things that have gone wrong, a system in need of deep healing and change. It would also be fair to say that it’s not just the U.S. that needs an “occupy” movement, but the world as a whole.

Isaiah stands among people who have reoccupied the land of their ancestors, but can see no hope, no healing, no future ... all they can see are ruined buildings and ruined lives in need of restoration. They are a brokenhearted people in need of a fresh start and to these people Isaiah speaks God’s healing word: “The creator of this universe, whose breath shaped this earth and spoke life into existence, will heal and restore you. And this is “good news” for all people, all earth. The birth of Jesus is, for us, a grand fulfillment of Isaiah’s hopeful and healing words. God’s decisively entering into our lives and our world “from within” ... love encased in human flesh, the Spirit clothed in our human condition, and from within God’s healing and restoration comes, not in a great show of power, but on the wings of every breath and with every newborn baby’s cry. And this is the word and message of “Christmas” that is beneath every cry of “Merry Christmas” ... this is the word and message beneath and within our seasonal celebration. It is a word and message of hope and healing and new futures.

And we are at the same time, people who need to hear this the “good news” of this healing word ... and people who need to pronounce the “good news” of this healing word. And so, while yet standing at the threshold, with seasonal bustle and twinkling lights and merry songs all around, we come into a time of prayer for healing ... healing of ourselves ... of nations ... of this earth.

We open ourselves to this time of hearing and speaking the healing heart of God by singing together: “Come and fill our hearts ...”. Let us sing together as we come together in prayer:

Come and fill our hearts with your peace.
You alone, O God are holy.
Come and fill our hearts with your peace.
Al-le-lu-u-u-u-ia!

Voices of Comfort, by Greg

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O God, our strength, and our redeemer. Amen.

Sing: Comfort Ye, comfort ye my people.

As I drove to Berkeley on Thursday for a meeting, a hillside on the north side of Highway 24 in Lafayette caught the corner of my eye ... it was nearly completely white, as though snow was slowly drifting down and blanketing the ground. I turned my head and looked and it was, of course, not snow, but the slow, growing accumulation of small white memorials, mostly crosses, each marking the end of a life ... the end of a unique and brilliant and lovable and capable human being. Each memorial marker represents a whole universe of pain and loss for friends and family members of each service person who died in Afghanistan and Iraq. And for each white memorial marker, somewhere between 10 and 20 civilians have also died in those locations in this latest reminder of the awfulness of war and the utter futility of violent means to achieve peaceful ends.

Sing: Comfort Ye, comfort ye my people.

Another day and another drive. I was driving to work this past Tuesday morning in a dense fog. It was the literal fog we had before the brisk winds cleared the fog and darned near everything else in its path.

I had just read an email telling about the death, on Thanksgiving Day, of Sarah Hammond, the 34 year old daughter of our dear friends from the Baptist Peace Fellowship, Steve and Mary Hammond. Steve and Mary are co-pastors of Peace Community Church in Oberlin, Ohio. At our first peace camp in Vancouver, British Columbia, in 1999, we had met the Hammonds, including Sarah who was the oldest of their three daughters. You may remember that it was Steve Hammond’s words that helped catalyze Jan’s thinking about becoming a vegetarian.

Sarah had just earned her PhD in religion last year and was already a beloved professor at William and Mary College in Virginia. She was a deeply intelligent and compassionate and sensitive woman. And ... she had also battled inner demons of depression and despair all of her adult life. Steve and Mary wrote a few brief words to their friends and supportive community about their loss and their daughter’s struggle.

I had just read those words and was pondering them as I sat at the stop light in the fog waiting to turn on to La Casa Via ... and in one of those odd, ironic moments, the music I was listening to was a piano medley that combined “I’ll be home for Christmas” and the “Going Home” portion of Anton Dvorak’s “New World” Symphony. It was a moment of tender irony. “I’ll be home ... and ... I’m going home.”

These are Mary and Steve’s words:

From Mary -- Our beloved first born child, Sarah, passed away on Thanksgiving Day at the age of 34 after an utterly valiant decades long struggle with mental illness. Sarah, may you find the peace and rest with God that you could not find here on this earth. The God we trust holds you tight.

From Steve -- That call from the police in [Virginia] today was one that we always feared would come. Sarah was such an amazing person. So giving. So thoughtful. So brilliant. She just couldn't believe how amazing she was, and grew tired of this long battle with the darkness.

I really believe that darkness Sarah knew everyday has been finally shattered by the light. And I am glad to trust her in the hands of the one who said "I am the resurrection and the life."

Mary and I are so very grateful for all who accompanied Sarah on her journey. We got this far by faith, farther than, at times, we ever imagined she could make it. But her weary journey has come to its end. We often sing "Come and fill our hearts with your peace," at the Taize service. And it has always been my prayer for Sarah. Now that peace has come.

Sing: Comfort Ye, comfort ye my people.

This past Monday—my day off and the only day of the week I actually get to read the paper, I opened up the morning paper and out fell two sections that, to my surprise, had no news on them to speak of—at least as we think of news. They were the “public announcements” section of the Contra Costa Times. They used to be the back part of another section, like the Business section, but apparently there are now so many “public announcements” to be made that it takes not one, but TWO WHOLE SECTIONS of newsprint to contain this fine, but wicked print. Two whole sections of “legal postings”—and they were, with only a few exceptions, announcements of what people ... families were about to lose ... about to be forced to return to the lending institutions from whom money had been borrowed … two whole SECTIONS of foreclosures … two whole SECTIONS of misery … two whole SECTIONS of families’ lives being turned upside down ... two whole SECTIONS of moving trucks being packed, children being told that they must leave their neighborhoods and friends and classmates, two whole SECTIONS of credit ratings destroyed and futures being frazzled and threatened. Two whole sections of dislocation and misery and frustration and fear.

Sing: Comfort Ye, comfort ye my people.

Our sermon text this morning also speaks of dislocation and misery and frustration and fear. Isaiah’s words are written out of a time of exile ... a time when a good portion of the nation of Israel had been forcibly relocated to Babylon ... and with that forcible relocation, they had left behind EVERYTHING they knew and loved, EVERYTHING that gave their lives meaning ... they had left behind their homes and their Temple and, it seemed, their God and their very future. It was period of unspeakable bleakness and pain.

The people and their priests had no way to understand or interpret their exile except as a desolating punishment ... and as God’s “washing of the divine hands” of the once “chosen people” that God had, generations earlier, led out of bondage and into the promised land. But now that was a painfully distant and mocking memory.

It was only after a great deal of time had passed that a new prophet, speaking in the tradition of the great prophet Isaiah, found his voice, took heart, and began to utter words of comfort and hope, words of mercy and healing.

Sing: Comfort Ye, comfort ye my people.

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 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.”

Isaiah sees with eyes of faith that dislocation and misery and frustration and fear are not the final word. On the horizon of faith, which is beyond the horizon of sight, Isaiah sees God’s return and the restoration of God’s people to their land, their homes, their Temple and their place near God’s own heart. What Isaiah sees is not to be hidden or held close, but proclaimed from high places:

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!” God will feed God’s flock like a shepherd; God will gather the lambs in God’s arms, and carry them in God’s bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.

Isaiah’s word to Israel in exile is a also a word for us and for our world. You who have known the pain of loss and deep grief, you who have known dislocation and misery and frustration and fear ... know that these are not the final word, know that these are not the journey’s bitter end. On a horizon that is yet beyond our sight, a faint, but strengthening glow can be seen ... and it is a glow that portends healing and hope, mercy and forgiveness, reconciliation and return. It is a strengthening glow that speaks of the deep and abiding peace of God for all who have been in literal and figurative exile. It is a strengthening glow that hints at the love that is at the heart of all things, all creation ... love that will find new birth in our lives and on this good earth.

May we ALL be graced and blessed with the eyes of faith that can see beyond our human knowing. May we ALL see together the hints of God’s promise to be birthed once more into this world and into these lives: our lives and our world.

Amen.