Westwood Presbyterian Church

December 13th, 2009

197 Browning  Boulevard, Winnipeg, Manitoba  R3K 0L1

REV. PETER BUSH's SERMONS

Third Sunday in Advent (Isaiah 40: 1-11, Psalm 146, John 1: 1-9)

     “Comfort, comfort, my people Israel, says your God” – And a question jumps immediately to mind – “Comfort from what?” “What sorrow have they been experiencing from which they need comfort?”

     Israel is in exile – the Babylonians have captured the Jerusalem, and over the space of 10 years have destroyed the walls of the city, desecrated the temple, and taken many people off into exile in Babylon. For all intents and purposes the nation of Israel no longer exists, the land of Promise is held not be descendants of Abraham – but by a foreign power. Israel is but one more nation that has been swept off the face of the earth.

     But not only was there a political re-orientation – there was also social upheaval. Everyone with a useful trade, everyone who had an education beyond high school, every small business person – had been packed up and taken off to Babylon (Baghdad). They had left the place they knew, the place that had been promised to them, the place where they had roots – and they had been taken to Babylon – to a place they did not know, to live among a people they did not know, who spoke a language they did not know. No wonder Psalm 137 says, “By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept, when we remembered Zion (that is Jerusalem).” The people of Israel felt that they could not sing in the strange land – what was there to sing about.

     This exile had been brought on them by the military might of Babylon – whose army was the greatest military machine of its days. In a military contest they had lost, they did not have the power or the might to stop it from happening. In exile, away from their home, separated from family, the exiles mourned – and they certainly had much to mourn they had lost everything – home, nation, temple, family, freedom. There was much to mourn.

    

     Corporately the church in North America, in Canada, has much to mourn. Church attendance is in decline. And while people can point to large churches with huge numbers of people in attendance – the overall picture is that the number of Canadians going to church continues to decline. Christian symbols and Christian language are being pushed out of the public square. The Lord’s Prayer is no longer said in school, we have “Holiday Trees” and wish “Season’s Greetings”. The assumptions we made about our society being Christian appear to have been false.

     A tangent for a moment – I want to say this clearly so there can be no mistake in what I am saying. The drive to remove Christian symbols from the public square and public discourse of our country is not being driven by recently arrived immigrants. In Winnipeg, the chances of a new immigrant being a Christian are higher than the chances of someone who has been in Canada for their entire lives. The drive to eliminate Christian symbols is being driven by white Anglo-Saxons who don’t want Christian symbols; it is not being driven by immigrants. If we are serious about seeing Christian values return to playing a prominent place in our country, we will advocated for higher levels of immigration.

     But back to the church in Canada – it is easy to see ourselves as being in exile. We remember the way things were, the way the church was, and it is not that way anymore. We may not have moved geographically – but this is still a strange land we are in and we wonder how we can sing in this strange land. Yes, in many ways we are in exile. In exile because we did not have the power or the might to stop what was happening – and we have sat down and wept for what has been lost.

 

     In our personal lives we have reason to be in grief. The ground has shifted – what seemed certain and secure is gone. We feel lost, uncertain, and while we may not have physically moved – we still feel in exile – like we are in a strange place where we do not belong – where there is no rest – and so we too have sat down and we weep for what we remember about what was.

 

     But the word that is spoken in Isaiah is not “weep” – rather it is “Comfort”. Comfort, how can there be comfort in this strange land? How can there be comfort when we remember back to what was? Comfort – from where?

     Twice we are told – and when the Bible tells us something twice in quick succession we need to pay attention. The Biblical authors did not have infinite amounts of space – there was a limit to how long a scroll could be before it was too long to hold together. And so the authors, even as they were inspired by God, needed to make sure that they did not repeat things needlessly. That means the repetition here in Isaiah 40:6-8 is important.

     The repetition compares two things – human beings and the Word of God. One – human strength, human power, human plans does not last – is but grass which dies and flowers (on a day when the cold has settled into Winnipeg) are frozen and are no more. The other – the Word of God lasts forever.

     God’s Word changes the situation. God promised return from exile – not immediate – not tomorrow – at some point in the future – and yes, it seemed hard to believe that it would come – hard to believe that that moment would ever come – but it was God’s promise and no matter how hard to believe, no matter how unlikely, no matter how ridiculous in this world’s terms – it was God’s promise and God would keep his promise. It was his word – and his word would not fail.

     God had spoken – “Comfort” – and in the face of whatever was going on – whatever heart ache – whatever uncertainty – God could be and can be trusted. He will do what he says. He has promised “comfort” – and in that there is joy. Not a superficial happiness built on the circumstances of the present moment – but a joy built on the certainty of God’s word.

 

     God’s word redefines reality. Suddenly there is in the equation something that is not but dust in the wind – no here there is something that is for all time. Something that is solid in a world of but shifting shadows. God’s word gives us our bearings – is our certainty in the fickleness of human existence.

 

     When we hear that phrase “The Word of God” in the middle of Advent – our minds jump immediately to the powerful lines from the opening of the gospel of John – “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.” Not only are God’s words with Word of God, and not only is the Bible the Word of God – so Jesus is the Word of God. The Word made flesh who dwells among us. And while Isaiah my not have understood the full meaning of what he was writing – we who stand in this side of Christmas we see. We see that the Word of Comfort that Isaiah recorded was yes, for his time a promise that the exile would not be forever – a promise heard and rejoiced in.

     And yes, for us, it is a promise fulfilled in Jesus Christ – God’s Word come among us. The promise of Comfort that comes to us in Jesus being with us – Emmanuel – God with us. And we live in that joy. Now we who live on this side of Christmas – know that the world is not the way we would hope that it would be – we talked earlier about our own feeling of being in exile – of needing to find comfort. And this promise of God’s Word being sure is for us as we look ahead. For the promise was not complete in Jesus coming in Bethlehem – it points ahead to a time when that comfort will be fully revealed in our world. And for that time we get ready – for that time we prepare a road – a way. Prepare the way of the Lord.

 

     But it is worth asking what kind of reign of God is this that is coming. For we who live in exile have got here because of the power and might of forces beyond our control. The people of Israel got to where they were because of the power of military might. And in all the build up in Isaiah it looks like a powerful king is about to arrive at the head of a mighty army. It would be easy to think that the king who is coming, whose way is being prepared is going to come and right the wrongs of the world by power and might. A king who is going to overwhelm the forces that cause exile by being stronger – mightier – tougher. We know all the lines – “When the going gets tough – the tough get going.” “Might makes right”, and so it goes. We are ready for a powerful king who is going to right wrong by force. But that is not the description that we get.

     Isaiah announces, “Here is your God” – he comes with might and his arm rules – “yea”, we say, “Here he comes going to smash heads together and make things right.” But this king – this God – comes to offer forgiveness – to fed the flock – to gather the lambs and carry them – to gently lead. “What?” we say, “we want a God who is going to out power the bad stuff in the world – to beat them at their own game – to bring them to their knees – to have them begging for mercy.” What is this forgiveness, this caring, this gentleness?

     If God won by strength – by might – by force – then we have just traded one form of coercive power for another form. That is not really a change. No our world needs a change – a real change – not more of the same old thing. The same old thing is on its way out – there is something new a-comin’ – and it comes from weakness, in comes in gentleness, it comes to bear the lambs in its arms. To bring them home.

     Our God wins victory not through beating the other side at their own game – not through bashing heads together – not through beating up the bad guys. God is not some kind of super holy, cosmic Chuck Norris who wins through might and power. Rather God’s kingdom comes through lowliness and humility – his kingdom comes through gentleness and caring – his kingdom redefines reality so that might is irrelevant – power is of no importance. The God who came as a babe in a manger – who cared for the poor – who offered comfort to the downtrodden – all of that was not an act covering up the powerful God who was going to win by out gunning the opposition. No, the God who came as a babe in a manger in Bethlehem is the God who knows that winning comes out of weakness, that the way to the top is through service, that the words our world is desperate to hear are not “I beat up the other guy and so I am now in charge.” But rather, “Comfort, speak comfort to all those who are broken and hurting. Speak comfort to all those who are burdened with guilt and shame. Speak comfort to all those in exile. Speak comfort to all those who can not sing in the strange land they have found themselves in.”

     These words come to us corporately – and personally. Comfort, my people, says our God. A comfort that is sure for God has spoken. A comfort that rests in the truth that God will win by re-writing the whole way the world works.

     Julian of Norwich expressed this hope – this confidence – this joy – when she said, “All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of thing will be well.” This is rock upon which our faith stands – the promise of the God of all comfort.

     God’s word refines reality – redefines what winning is – redefines the hope of the world. Comfort, my people, says our God.