Be prepared
Commentary
Whether or not they have ever been personally involved in scouting, most people with even a passing familiarity with the Boy Scouts of America know that the Scout motto is "Be prepared." One of the interesting aspects of that motto is how individualistically it has always been interpreted. The scouting movement is really about preparing oneself for whatever one may encounter in life. The stereotypical example is the famous "scout knife," so large and bulky with all its different blades, tools, and utensils that it will not even fit in your pocket. Scout uniform belts come with a special clasp from which you can hang the heavy thing on your hip.
Preparedness was never narrowly focused, however, on having the "things" you need. Scouting has always emphasized gaining skills and mental disciplines as well. Again the scout knife is instructive; no Boy Scout is allowed to carry one without having a "Totin' Chip" as evidence that he has been trained how to use it properly and safely. But whether it was equipment or training, it was ultimately about preparing oneself and being self-reliant. Service to others is an important scouting value -- from the Cub Scout slogan, "Do a good turn daily," to the Order of the Arrow's (Scouting's National Honor Society) "Brotherhood of Cheerful Service" -- but the motto "Be Prepared" was always about oneself.
None of this should be particularly surprising in an organization as deeply rooted in American culture and values as the Boy Scouts. Our culture from its beginnings has been thoroughly individualistic. Our heroes and role models, especially for boys, have been self-reliant pioneers and "rugged individualists." Even within the church, preparation has most often first been conceived as something we do for ourselves. In Advent and Lent, we are encouraged to be self-reflective, to repent of our own, personal sins, and to prepare ourselves spiritually so that we will be ready for the approaching celebrations of Christmas and Easter. We prepare ourselves for our personal involvement in what lies ahead.
If our scripture readings for today do not reject the need for this individual preparation, they at least emphasize the need to balance this focus on preparing oneself with the need to make preparation for others. Neither John the Baptizer at the beginning of Mark's Gospel, nor those who answer the divine call at the beginning of Isaiah 40 are engaged in self-preparation; each is in his own way preparing for others -- both for the divine figure who is coming in glory and for those people who will follow in the train.
Isaiah 40:1-11
To see how strong this communal emphasis really is in the passage from Isaiah assigned in the lectionary for this Sunday, you have to pay close attention to who is speaking in each section and to whom it is that they are speaking. These verses are really somewhat like a drama script, where most of the speaker identifications have fallen away.
The opening speaker is clearly identified; God calls for a message of comfort to be proclaimed to God's people. But who is God speaking to, and exactly who are the people God wants comforted? The audience who hears God's command to go and comfort others is the attendants of the heavenly court, elsewhere called the bene elohim, the "sons of God." God is dispatching these angelic servants to go to the Hebrews who have been exiled in ancient Babylon and tell them that the time of judgment against them has been completed: "Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid." The reference to "double for all her sins" does not mean that God has been unjustly harsh; rather, it is a Semitic idiom meaning "fully, completely." Not the tiniest bit of judgment or divine wrath remains to be visited upon Judah.
The voice that cries out in response, then, is one of these angelic servants in the heavenly court. The voice announces that the time has come to prepare for "the glory of the Lord [to] be revealed [that] all people shall see it." The voice calls to all the angelic hosts: "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." They must make a smooth road for the triumphal procession of God who will lead the people of God in the procession's train from exile in Babylon back to their homeland in Jerusalem.
Only once these preparations have been completed does the angelic herald command the human prophet to "cry out," inviting those in exile to end their mourning and to join the celebration. But the weight of two generations of exile still weighs heavily on the prophet. "What shall I cry?" he perhaps cynically replies. There can be no comfort; there can be no celebration given the desperate and seemingly hopeless state of the human condition. "All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field." Sure, the term of judgment has been completed for this sentence -- the prophet observes -- but the people will be no more faithful this time than in the past. It is only a matter of time until "the breath of the Lord" once again blows in wrath upon the people who like the grass will wither and like the flower will fade. If ever there was proof of how desperately these people needed to be comforted, the prophet's reply supplies that proof.
Without taking anything away from the prophet's depiction of the human condition, the angelic herald responds that human inconstancy is only half of the picture. Echoing the prophet's own words, the herald proclaims, "The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever." The promise of comfort is not dependent on self-preparation; it is grounded in God's presence. "Here is your God! See, the Lord God comes with might ... He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them at his breast, and gently lead the mother sheep." You cannot prepare yourself for God's coming or fortify your own strength and constancy, the herald is saying. But we have brought you comfort by preparing for God's coming, and God's presence will give you the strength that you do not have in yourself.
2 Peter 3:8-15a
Depending on their views of the likelihood that the Apostle Peter actually wrote this letter, scholars have variously dated 2 Peter anywhere between a full generation to as much as a century after Jesus' crucifixion and resurrection. What is not subject to debate is that this letter presupposes a "life-setting" (Sitz-im-Leben) in which the problem of the delay of the Parousia has reached a critical point. Almost certainly the first generation of Christians had expected Jesus' return within their own lifetimes (cf. 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18, especially v. 17). That so many years had passed without his return had sparked a crisis of faith for some Christians, and become a source of derision by some non-Christians (2 Peter 3:3-4).
The portion of the letter assigned in this lection responds to the delay of the Parousia in three ways: (1) when viewed from God's vantage point, the duration of the time that has passed is not significant enough to count for a delay; (2) despite the doubts of some, this present age will indeed be brought to a close; and (3) there are ethical responsibilities that are incumbent upon Christian believers even as they await Christ's return.
The statement in verse 8, "that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day," is an allusion to Psalm 90:4. For the eternal God who exists outside of time (for time is itself one of God's creations), any expanse of time -- no matter how long or brief -- is completely meaningless. Moreover, the author insists, any delay perceived from our vantage point is ultimately to our advantage because it provides more opportunities for repentance to believers and unbelievers alike.
This conflict in perception regarding the delay of Christ's return has another ironic quality as well. Although some may feel that the wait is dragging on forever, when the "day of the Lord" does finally come, it will arrive suddenly and unexpectedly, "like a thief in the night" (cf. Matthew 24:43-44). When it arrives, everything in the created order (again, including time itself) "will pass away" and "everything that is done on it will be disclosed." Thus, rather than mocking and doubting whether the end will ever come, people should avail themselves of this current opportunity for repentance.
Perhaps the most surprising statement in this passage is that believers can actually "hasten the coming day of God" by "leading lives of holiness and godliness" (vv. 11-12). That is to say (at least again from the human vantage point), by lessening the need for God to bring judgment upon the world, human beings can actually expedite the time when God will destroy evil and bring into being "new heavens and a new earth." Despite what at first appears to be language of threat couched in terms of apocalyptic doom, the scriptures here also present the "day of the Lord" primarily as "salvation" (v. 15a) rather than judgment. The delay of the Parousia should be a comfort for God's people rather than a source of anxiety.
Mark 1:1-8
Unlike the other synoptic evangelists, Mark designates the "beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ" not with nativity stories but with an oracle presented as announcing John the Baptizer as the herald proclaiming the Messiah's soon arrival. Given the consensus view of Markan priority among the synoptic Gospels, this rhetorical strategy should not be seen as a rejection or even necessarily as ignorance of the birth traditions. Rather, Mark emphasizes the coming of the Messiah both at the beginning and the end of his work (Mark 16:7). Just as the Baptizer prepared people for the first advent of the Messiah by his preaching, so the evangelist prepares people for the Messiah's second advent by his writing.
Mark attributes his opening citation to "the prophet Isaiah" (v. 2); however, the actual wording is a conflation of Malachi 3:1 with Isaiah 40:3, with possible additional influence from Exodus 23:20 ("ahead of you" rather than the "before me" in Malachi 3:1). Was he simply confused, or is something deliberate at stake in this attribution?
Against the view that it was only an honest mistake, it should be noted that the allusion to Malachi goes far beyond the opening phrases of Mark 1:2b. First, the very name "Malachi" means "my messenger" in Hebrew (and it is not unlikely that Malachi 3:1 is responsible for the name attached to that prophetic book). Secondly, Malachi 4:5 names "Elijah" as the prophetic messenger who will be sent "before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes." Clearly the description of John "clothed in camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist" in Mark 1:6 is intended to call to mind Elijah (cf. 2 Kings 1:8; see also Mark 9:11-13), and the content of the oracle associated with the messenger in Malachi 3 has clear connections with John's preaching as summarized in Mark 1:4. The evangelist has Malachi in mind, and expects the reader to recognize and to fill out the association.
Why, then, attribute the full citation to Isaiah? Certainly there are other possibilities, but it seems likely that Mark names only Isaiah so as to emphasize that context for explicating his own purposes. Again, more is to be called to mind than simply the words directly quoted from Isaiah 40:3 (this is arguably the case with most of the fulfillment citations in the Gospels, but demonstrating that point goes far beyond what can be offered here). Recall that the oracle in Isaiah 40:1-11 (and indeed all of Second Isaiah down to 55:13) is intended to "comfort" God's people. This tone stands in marked contrast to how John's message of "repentance" in the light of coming judgment (the Malachi oracle) is usually perceived. By emphasizing Isaiah, Mark is able to establish that the context of the coming of the Lord even in judgment is a cause for comfort among God's people. It is "good news" (Mark 1:1) rather than a dire threat.
In the same way that the angelic heralds in the Isaianic oracle were making preparation for others, so John did not go out into the wilderness of the Jordan River Valley to prepare himself; rather he was busy making preparations for others. He was in the first instance preparing the way for Jesus' coming just as the angelic servants prepared for God's procession in this Sunday's passage from Isaiah. But beyond that, John was concerned with making preparation for those who would follow in Jesus' train as the ancient exiles followed in God's. John was not like some ascetic monk who had gone out into the wilderness to navel-gaze and contemplate his own failures before God in anticipation of the Messiah's arrival. John's message and call to baptism were assurances to the people that the comfort of God's forgiveness and love were available to those who would come and receive them.
Application
The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas has become in our culture a quintessential time of preparing for others. We decorate our homes with lights, garland, and Christmas trees to provide a festive and warm atmosphere for our guests. We buy special foods and little gifts for parties and get-togethers with family, friends, and coworkers -- some of whom may be only passing acquaintances. We spend long hours traveling from store to store and from mall to mall trying to find that perfect gift for those special loved ones. Then when we finally get back to the comfort of home, we sit wearing warm bathrobes in our dens shopping even more online with our computers. Why are we so busy at this time of year? Why does it always seem so hectic? Because of all the preparations we are making to bring joy and happiness to others.
So close and yet so far away from the image of Advent as we have seen in our scripture readings for this Second Sunday of Advent. So close, because we really are not contemplatively preparing ourselves for Christ's coming to us but rather are focused perhaps more than at any other time of the year on others. And yet so far, because the message of God's comfort, love, and acceptance is all but completely lost in the expressions of our own hospitality and affection for others. Like the angelic servants in Isaiah and like John the Baptizer, we busily prepare for all the people who are coming to join in the celebration; yet unlike them, we too often neglect the reality that it is God's presence among us that is the reason for the celebration.
Perhaps this Advent season we need to set before ourselves a challenge. It is not a challenge to swim against the cultural tide of so busily preparing for others that you have no time for reflective contemplation. Yes, we should make time to reflect on our personal relationship with God, but that need is hardly unique to this season. No, this challenge as we prepare for our parties and gift-exchanges is to make it clear to everyone whose lives those preparations touch why it is that we celebrate at this time of year. Let everyone know that our "holiday spirit" comes from the presence of God's Spirit in our life. Tell them our gifts and expressions of acceptance and love are not purely our own, but extensions of God's love and acceptance reaching out to them through us. Let us make our holiday preparations truly smoothing the path of God's coming to the people in our lives. Be prepared in these special days to bring comfort to all of God's people.
An Alternative Application
2 Peter 3:8-15a. Although almost exclusively associated with Jesus' first coming in the minds of most modern Christians, the liturgical origins of the Advent season actually lie in an emphasis upon preparation for the Second Advent of Christ. That emphasis was seen most clearly in the gospel assigned for the First Sunday in Advent (Mark 13:24-37) and is underscored by the epistolary lection appointed for this second Sunday in the season.
Perhaps one reason for this shift in emphasis to Jesus' birth in Bethlehem as the dominant theme of Advent is that many, particularly mainline Christians have, like those referred to in 2 Peter, been left with nothing but questions with regard to "the promise of his coming." We look back across two millennia of church history and are more convinced than ever that "ever since our ancestors died, all things continue as they were from the beginning of creation!" (2 Peter 3:4).
Maybe we need to hear the suggestion that perhaps the reason "the promise of his coming" has yet to be fulfilled is at least in part because "all things continue as they were from the beginning of creation." We have failed to "hasten the coming of the day of God" by living lives of "holiness and godliness." And so God is patiently waiting for us to begin preparing the way for his arrival through both our repentance and our actions to establish God's justice in the world. We need not revert to a thoroughgoing "social gospel" that believed that human beings could in themselves establish God's reign on earth, but we should realize that we do have a role to play in preparing this world for God's triumphal procession.
First Lesson Focus
Isaiah 40:1-11
During the Advent season, leading up to Christmas, we often hear a portion of this text as a beautiful soprano solo in Handel's oratorio, Messiah. "He shall feed his flock like a shepherd, he shall gather the lambs with his arm ... and shall gently lead those that are with young" (KJV). The words capture all of the comfort and beauty of this holy season, and they bring reassurance and rest to our sometimes weary souls -- a strengthening that all of us can use at times.
But the text of these 11 verses from the opening chapter of Second Isaiah came as comfort and reassurance to a people in far more desperate straits than we find ourselves. They were pronounced to the Israelites who were languishing in Babylonian exile in the sixth century B.C., to a people who thought that God had forgotten all about them (cf. 40:17). The Israelites had been captives of the great Babylonian Empire ever since they had been deported by the Babylonians in three separate exiles -- in 597, 587, and 582 B.C. And while their lot wasn't too bad in that distant Mesopotamian country, they longed for their homeland of Judah and the familiar streets of Jerusalem, with its temple on Zion's hill (cf. Psalm 137:1-6). Sadly, however, they knew that the temple and Jerusalem's walls and houses lay in charred and crumbled ruins.
But the Israelites were the chosen people of a God who never slumbers nor sleeps, of a Lord who rules over all the nations, of the Creator of the ends of the earth. They were people of the same God whom we worship, and that God never forgets anyone, especially not those with whom he has made a covenant. And so sometime around 540 B.C., God called a prophet to proclaim these words that now form our Old Testament lesson.
In doing so, the Lord God lets his prophet listen in on a scene in the court of heaven, for the setting of the words we find here in Isaiah 40 is the heaven of heavens, with God surrounded by his angelic messengers. And to those messengers, God gives a command (in the plural), as the prophet listens. God says, "Comfort, comfort, my people." There follow three phrases then that all begin with "that" (or ki, in the Hebrew), and they express the content of the comfort. God's war against his sinful people is now ended, because he has pardoned all their sins, and Israel has received more punishment for her sins than she even deserved. (The reason for that is not divulged until Isaiah 52:13--53:12.)
As Second Isaiah hears those words of forgiveness for his people, he then hears one of the heavenly beings cry out: "In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord!" In other words, God is on the move. He doesn't just sit in heaven on a throne (cf. Isaiah 6:1), observing this earth's difficulties. The angelic beings are commanded to prepare a way for the Lord to return to his people. They are directed to smooth out every mountain height and level every plain, because the Lord is coming to reveal his glorious Person to his covenant folk -- and not only to them. Everyone, "all flesh," are going to see the glory of the Lord. God is on the move!
It's not just the heavenly beings who are commanded in this passage, however, because at this point another heavenly being involves the listening prophet in the drama. The prophet is told, "Cry!" That is, he is told, "Preach!" Second Isaiah is given his prophetic call. "But what should I preach?" he asks the heavenly being. Prophets have no true words unless the words are divinely given. And the heavenly being replies with the answer. "All flesh is grass, and all its beauty like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades." And that's true, isn't it? We do have our beauty, our glory, our wonderful inventions and creations, our artistic endeavors, our works of music, our loves, our aspirations. But they all fade, don't they? We all pass away, and the wonderful works of us human beings seem to disappear with time and the wind. But, the heavenly voice proclaims to Second Isaiah that one thing is permanent. One thing never fades or passes away. And that is the word of our God that will stand forever. In other words, God keeps his promises. God never takes back what he has vowed. God speaks and then he does what he has said. And so Second Isaiah can reassure his exiled compatriots that they are not forgotten, that God will keep all the promises he ever made to them, that he will give them a new life in a return to their homeland, as his beloved people. "You shall not go out in haste" from Babylonia, God promises, "and you shall not go out in flight, for the Lord will go before you, and the God of Israel will be your rear guard" (Isaiah 52:12).
That is what Second Isaiah is given to preach to his dispirited people. God has forgiven them, God is coming to them, God is going to lead them home. So the prophet takes up his preaching in the following verses of our text. And he addresses far off Judah, to which the exiles will return. You, Judah, he says in so many words, announce it! Become an evangelist, that is, become a herald of good tidings, shout out this gospel message! "Behold your God!" There he comes! Don't you see him? There he is approaching the holy city of Jerusalem once more. And he's not alone. His reward is with him -- all of those captive exiles whom he is leading home again. Look at that! He comes, the mighty God, able to topple nations and to release a captive people, able to rescue all who wait in trust for his coming (cf. Isaiah 40:31). His strong arm is raised in might, but he also comes with tenderness like a shepherd, gently leading the mother sheep and carrying the lambs, the weak, in his arms.
What a fantastic message Second Isaiah was given to proclaim to his captive, covenant people! And do you know, it all came true? In 538 B.C., working through the Emperor Cyrus of Persia, the Lord God did in fact release his exiled people, and they were free to return to Judah and Jerusalem and to rebuild their ruined city and temple.
But that was not just a promise fulfilled in the sixth century B.C. It also is a Word of God for you and me in this Advent season, because God's word does stand forever, and he never takes back his promises. He did come to us in our captivities, too, did he not? He did in fact come to release us from our exiles, from our imprisonments to sin and death and all the tragedies of this world. As the babe of Bethlehem, he entered this world in weakness, but we know that as our crucified and risen Lord, he also came with might, bursting the shackles of the grave and overcoming the last enemy, death. As for tenderness: Ah! has he not been with us in our most feeling moments of joy or sorrow, drying our tears or sharing our triumphs and always understanding? Yes, God kept his word to come to us in his word made flesh, and at Christmas, we shall celebrate that faithfulness of our Lord once more.
But do you realize that he also kept that promise that said, "The glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together?" What does the Gospel of John tell us? "We have beheld his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father" (John 1:14). Well, that vision is now offered through the Christian Church to every soul on this planet. To every person everywhere, we too can say, "Behold your God!" There he comes! There he comes in might and in tenderness. And maybe, just maybe our task as God's new covenant people is to be the heralds once more of those good tidings, the Gospel, who announce that joyful news.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13
This psalm is a communal prayer for help. After acknowledging the great help of the Lord to their ancestors (v. 1), these psalm singers plead with God to do again what he did for those in the past (v. 4). Though the circumstances are not named, many scholars believe that the psalm refers to impending return from exile, looking forward to the intervention of God in history. The themes of the psalm are like those of Second Isaiah -- "his salvation at hand," "that his glory may dwell in the land." Thus the themes are also those of Advent. In fact, though not quoted in the New Testament, verse 13 brings to mind John the Baptist, the herald of Christ. In this setting, however, righteousness is the herald of God.
Note especially verses 10-11, with the poetic naming of characteristics of the day when the Lord returns. The present situation of Israel was far from ideal, and it was not characterized by steadfast love, faithfulness, righteousness, and peace. Together those things are the ideal conditions for human life together, but they are never fully present this side of the Lord's coming. Perhaps to speak of them poetically (and with hope) was the only viable option for those who did not wish to surrender to despair. So the psalmist waxes poetic:
Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet; Righteousness and peace will kiss each other.
Two weeks after 9/11, Terri Gross of NPR's Fresh Air interviewed the new U.S. poet laureate Billy Collins. She asked him if the terrorist attacks affected how he saw his role as poet laureate. Collins replied that in the days following the attack, "There was a kind of surge of poetry activity, and it seemed there was a kind of need for poetry -- and people turning to me as the laureate for reactions to this ... I found it interesting that in a time of national crisis, that we don't turn to the novel. We don't say, well we should all go out and see a movie that would kind of make us feel better. We turn to poetry...." He added that the attacks tore a hole in the nation and that normal language cannot fill it. But poetry is the best effort for this, he said, adding that one of poetry's "oldest functions is to give a place for grief to go, a place to ritualize grief and make it possible to express in some coherent way feelings that seem to resist expression" (from Fresh Air, broadcast September 26, 2001).
Maybe it will be useful to acknowledge the poetic nature of the psalms, and this psalm particularly. And then ask, how can the poetry of the scripture fill the holes in our hearts?
Preparedness was never narrowly focused, however, on having the "things" you need. Scouting has always emphasized gaining skills and mental disciplines as well. Again the scout knife is instructive; no Boy Scout is allowed to carry one without having a "Totin' Chip" as evidence that he has been trained how to use it properly and safely. But whether it was equipment or training, it was ultimately about preparing oneself and being self-reliant. Service to others is an important scouting value -- from the Cub Scout slogan, "Do a good turn daily," to the Order of the Arrow's (Scouting's National Honor Society) "Brotherhood of Cheerful Service" -- but the motto "Be Prepared" was always about oneself.
None of this should be particularly surprising in an organization as deeply rooted in American culture and values as the Boy Scouts. Our culture from its beginnings has been thoroughly individualistic. Our heroes and role models, especially for boys, have been self-reliant pioneers and "rugged individualists." Even within the church, preparation has most often first been conceived as something we do for ourselves. In Advent and Lent, we are encouraged to be self-reflective, to repent of our own, personal sins, and to prepare ourselves spiritually so that we will be ready for the approaching celebrations of Christmas and Easter. We prepare ourselves for our personal involvement in what lies ahead.
If our scripture readings for today do not reject the need for this individual preparation, they at least emphasize the need to balance this focus on preparing oneself with the need to make preparation for others. Neither John the Baptizer at the beginning of Mark's Gospel, nor those who answer the divine call at the beginning of Isaiah 40 are engaged in self-preparation; each is in his own way preparing for others -- both for the divine figure who is coming in glory and for those people who will follow in the train.
Isaiah 40:1-11
To see how strong this communal emphasis really is in the passage from Isaiah assigned in the lectionary for this Sunday, you have to pay close attention to who is speaking in each section and to whom it is that they are speaking. These verses are really somewhat like a drama script, where most of the speaker identifications have fallen away.
The opening speaker is clearly identified; God calls for a message of comfort to be proclaimed to God's people. But who is God speaking to, and exactly who are the people God wants comforted? The audience who hears God's command to go and comfort others is the attendants of the heavenly court, elsewhere called the bene elohim, the "sons of God." God is dispatching these angelic servants to go to the Hebrews who have been exiled in ancient Babylon and tell them that the time of judgment against them has been completed: "Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid." The reference to "double for all her sins" does not mean that God has been unjustly harsh; rather, it is a Semitic idiom meaning "fully, completely." Not the tiniest bit of judgment or divine wrath remains to be visited upon Judah.
The voice that cries out in response, then, is one of these angelic servants in the heavenly court. The voice announces that the time has come to prepare for "the glory of the Lord [to] be revealed [that] all people shall see it." The voice calls to all the angelic hosts: "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." They must make a smooth road for the triumphal procession of God who will lead the people of God in the procession's train from exile in Babylon back to their homeland in Jerusalem.
Only once these preparations have been completed does the angelic herald command the human prophet to "cry out," inviting those in exile to end their mourning and to join the celebration. But the weight of two generations of exile still weighs heavily on the prophet. "What shall I cry?" he perhaps cynically replies. There can be no comfort; there can be no celebration given the desperate and seemingly hopeless state of the human condition. "All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field." Sure, the term of judgment has been completed for this sentence -- the prophet observes -- but the people will be no more faithful this time than in the past. It is only a matter of time until "the breath of the Lord" once again blows in wrath upon the people who like the grass will wither and like the flower will fade. If ever there was proof of how desperately these people needed to be comforted, the prophet's reply supplies that proof.
Without taking anything away from the prophet's depiction of the human condition, the angelic herald responds that human inconstancy is only half of the picture. Echoing the prophet's own words, the herald proclaims, "The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever." The promise of comfort is not dependent on self-preparation; it is grounded in God's presence. "Here is your God! See, the Lord God comes with might ... He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them at his breast, and gently lead the mother sheep." You cannot prepare yourself for God's coming or fortify your own strength and constancy, the herald is saying. But we have brought you comfort by preparing for God's coming, and God's presence will give you the strength that you do not have in yourself.
2 Peter 3:8-15a
Depending on their views of the likelihood that the Apostle Peter actually wrote this letter, scholars have variously dated 2 Peter anywhere between a full generation to as much as a century after Jesus' crucifixion and resurrection. What is not subject to debate is that this letter presupposes a "life-setting" (Sitz-im-Leben) in which the problem of the delay of the Parousia has reached a critical point. Almost certainly the first generation of Christians had expected Jesus' return within their own lifetimes (cf. 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18, especially v. 17). That so many years had passed without his return had sparked a crisis of faith for some Christians, and become a source of derision by some non-Christians (2 Peter 3:3-4).
The portion of the letter assigned in this lection responds to the delay of the Parousia in three ways: (1) when viewed from God's vantage point, the duration of the time that has passed is not significant enough to count for a delay; (2) despite the doubts of some, this present age will indeed be brought to a close; and (3) there are ethical responsibilities that are incumbent upon Christian believers even as they await Christ's return.
The statement in verse 8, "that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day," is an allusion to Psalm 90:4. For the eternal God who exists outside of time (for time is itself one of God's creations), any expanse of time -- no matter how long or brief -- is completely meaningless. Moreover, the author insists, any delay perceived from our vantage point is ultimately to our advantage because it provides more opportunities for repentance to believers and unbelievers alike.
This conflict in perception regarding the delay of Christ's return has another ironic quality as well. Although some may feel that the wait is dragging on forever, when the "day of the Lord" does finally come, it will arrive suddenly and unexpectedly, "like a thief in the night" (cf. Matthew 24:43-44). When it arrives, everything in the created order (again, including time itself) "will pass away" and "everything that is done on it will be disclosed." Thus, rather than mocking and doubting whether the end will ever come, people should avail themselves of this current opportunity for repentance.
Perhaps the most surprising statement in this passage is that believers can actually "hasten the coming day of God" by "leading lives of holiness and godliness" (vv. 11-12). That is to say (at least again from the human vantage point), by lessening the need for God to bring judgment upon the world, human beings can actually expedite the time when God will destroy evil and bring into being "new heavens and a new earth." Despite what at first appears to be language of threat couched in terms of apocalyptic doom, the scriptures here also present the "day of the Lord" primarily as "salvation" (v. 15a) rather than judgment. The delay of the Parousia should be a comfort for God's people rather than a source of anxiety.
Mark 1:1-8
Unlike the other synoptic evangelists, Mark designates the "beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ" not with nativity stories but with an oracle presented as announcing John the Baptizer as the herald proclaiming the Messiah's soon arrival. Given the consensus view of Markan priority among the synoptic Gospels, this rhetorical strategy should not be seen as a rejection or even necessarily as ignorance of the birth traditions. Rather, Mark emphasizes the coming of the Messiah both at the beginning and the end of his work (Mark 16:7). Just as the Baptizer prepared people for the first advent of the Messiah by his preaching, so the evangelist prepares people for the Messiah's second advent by his writing.
Mark attributes his opening citation to "the prophet Isaiah" (v. 2); however, the actual wording is a conflation of Malachi 3:1 with Isaiah 40:3, with possible additional influence from Exodus 23:20 ("ahead of you" rather than the "before me" in Malachi 3:1). Was he simply confused, or is something deliberate at stake in this attribution?
Against the view that it was only an honest mistake, it should be noted that the allusion to Malachi goes far beyond the opening phrases of Mark 1:2b. First, the very name "Malachi" means "my messenger" in Hebrew (and it is not unlikely that Malachi 3:1 is responsible for the name attached to that prophetic book). Secondly, Malachi 4:5 names "Elijah" as the prophetic messenger who will be sent "before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes." Clearly the description of John "clothed in camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist" in Mark 1:6 is intended to call to mind Elijah (cf. 2 Kings 1:8; see also Mark 9:11-13), and the content of the oracle associated with the messenger in Malachi 3 has clear connections with John's preaching as summarized in Mark 1:4. The evangelist has Malachi in mind, and expects the reader to recognize and to fill out the association.
Why, then, attribute the full citation to Isaiah? Certainly there are other possibilities, but it seems likely that Mark names only Isaiah so as to emphasize that context for explicating his own purposes. Again, more is to be called to mind than simply the words directly quoted from Isaiah 40:3 (this is arguably the case with most of the fulfillment citations in the Gospels, but demonstrating that point goes far beyond what can be offered here). Recall that the oracle in Isaiah 40:1-11 (and indeed all of Second Isaiah down to 55:13) is intended to "comfort" God's people. This tone stands in marked contrast to how John's message of "repentance" in the light of coming judgment (the Malachi oracle) is usually perceived. By emphasizing Isaiah, Mark is able to establish that the context of the coming of the Lord even in judgment is a cause for comfort among God's people. It is "good news" (Mark 1:1) rather than a dire threat.
In the same way that the angelic heralds in the Isaianic oracle were making preparation for others, so John did not go out into the wilderness of the Jordan River Valley to prepare himself; rather he was busy making preparations for others. He was in the first instance preparing the way for Jesus' coming just as the angelic servants prepared for God's procession in this Sunday's passage from Isaiah. But beyond that, John was concerned with making preparation for those who would follow in Jesus' train as the ancient exiles followed in God's. John was not like some ascetic monk who had gone out into the wilderness to navel-gaze and contemplate his own failures before God in anticipation of the Messiah's arrival. John's message and call to baptism were assurances to the people that the comfort of God's forgiveness and love were available to those who would come and receive them.
Application
The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas has become in our culture a quintessential time of preparing for others. We decorate our homes with lights, garland, and Christmas trees to provide a festive and warm atmosphere for our guests. We buy special foods and little gifts for parties and get-togethers with family, friends, and coworkers -- some of whom may be only passing acquaintances. We spend long hours traveling from store to store and from mall to mall trying to find that perfect gift for those special loved ones. Then when we finally get back to the comfort of home, we sit wearing warm bathrobes in our dens shopping even more online with our computers. Why are we so busy at this time of year? Why does it always seem so hectic? Because of all the preparations we are making to bring joy and happiness to others.
So close and yet so far away from the image of Advent as we have seen in our scripture readings for this Second Sunday of Advent. So close, because we really are not contemplatively preparing ourselves for Christ's coming to us but rather are focused perhaps more than at any other time of the year on others. And yet so far, because the message of God's comfort, love, and acceptance is all but completely lost in the expressions of our own hospitality and affection for others. Like the angelic servants in Isaiah and like John the Baptizer, we busily prepare for all the people who are coming to join in the celebration; yet unlike them, we too often neglect the reality that it is God's presence among us that is the reason for the celebration.
Perhaps this Advent season we need to set before ourselves a challenge. It is not a challenge to swim against the cultural tide of so busily preparing for others that you have no time for reflective contemplation. Yes, we should make time to reflect on our personal relationship with God, but that need is hardly unique to this season. No, this challenge as we prepare for our parties and gift-exchanges is to make it clear to everyone whose lives those preparations touch why it is that we celebrate at this time of year. Let everyone know that our "holiday spirit" comes from the presence of God's Spirit in our life. Tell them our gifts and expressions of acceptance and love are not purely our own, but extensions of God's love and acceptance reaching out to them through us. Let us make our holiday preparations truly smoothing the path of God's coming to the people in our lives. Be prepared in these special days to bring comfort to all of God's people.
An Alternative Application
2 Peter 3:8-15a. Although almost exclusively associated with Jesus' first coming in the minds of most modern Christians, the liturgical origins of the Advent season actually lie in an emphasis upon preparation for the Second Advent of Christ. That emphasis was seen most clearly in the gospel assigned for the First Sunday in Advent (Mark 13:24-37) and is underscored by the epistolary lection appointed for this second Sunday in the season.
Perhaps one reason for this shift in emphasis to Jesus' birth in Bethlehem as the dominant theme of Advent is that many, particularly mainline Christians have, like those referred to in 2 Peter, been left with nothing but questions with regard to "the promise of his coming." We look back across two millennia of church history and are more convinced than ever that "ever since our ancestors died, all things continue as they were from the beginning of creation!" (2 Peter 3:4).
Maybe we need to hear the suggestion that perhaps the reason "the promise of his coming" has yet to be fulfilled is at least in part because "all things continue as they were from the beginning of creation." We have failed to "hasten the coming of the day of God" by living lives of "holiness and godliness." And so God is patiently waiting for us to begin preparing the way for his arrival through both our repentance and our actions to establish God's justice in the world. We need not revert to a thoroughgoing "social gospel" that believed that human beings could in themselves establish God's reign on earth, but we should realize that we do have a role to play in preparing this world for God's triumphal procession.
First Lesson Focus
Isaiah 40:1-11
During the Advent season, leading up to Christmas, we often hear a portion of this text as a beautiful soprano solo in Handel's oratorio, Messiah. "He shall feed his flock like a shepherd, he shall gather the lambs with his arm ... and shall gently lead those that are with young" (KJV). The words capture all of the comfort and beauty of this holy season, and they bring reassurance and rest to our sometimes weary souls -- a strengthening that all of us can use at times.
But the text of these 11 verses from the opening chapter of Second Isaiah came as comfort and reassurance to a people in far more desperate straits than we find ourselves. They were pronounced to the Israelites who were languishing in Babylonian exile in the sixth century B.C., to a people who thought that God had forgotten all about them (cf. 40:17). The Israelites had been captives of the great Babylonian Empire ever since they had been deported by the Babylonians in three separate exiles -- in 597, 587, and 582 B.C. And while their lot wasn't too bad in that distant Mesopotamian country, they longed for their homeland of Judah and the familiar streets of Jerusalem, with its temple on Zion's hill (cf. Psalm 137:1-6). Sadly, however, they knew that the temple and Jerusalem's walls and houses lay in charred and crumbled ruins.
But the Israelites were the chosen people of a God who never slumbers nor sleeps, of a Lord who rules over all the nations, of the Creator of the ends of the earth. They were people of the same God whom we worship, and that God never forgets anyone, especially not those with whom he has made a covenant. And so sometime around 540 B.C., God called a prophet to proclaim these words that now form our Old Testament lesson.
In doing so, the Lord God lets his prophet listen in on a scene in the court of heaven, for the setting of the words we find here in Isaiah 40 is the heaven of heavens, with God surrounded by his angelic messengers. And to those messengers, God gives a command (in the plural), as the prophet listens. God says, "Comfort, comfort, my people." There follow three phrases then that all begin with "that" (or ki, in the Hebrew), and they express the content of the comfort. God's war against his sinful people is now ended, because he has pardoned all their sins, and Israel has received more punishment for her sins than she even deserved. (The reason for that is not divulged until Isaiah 52:13--53:12.)
As Second Isaiah hears those words of forgiveness for his people, he then hears one of the heavenly beings cry out: "In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord!" In other words, God is on the move. He doesn't just sit in heaven on a throne (cf. Isaiah 6:1), observing this earth's difficulties. The angelic beings are commanded to prepare a way for the Lord to return to his people. They are directed to smooth out every mountain height and level every plain, because the Lord is coming to reveal his glorious Person to his covenant folk -- and not only to them. Everyone, "all flesh," are going to see the glory of the Lord. God is on the move!
It's not just the heavenly beings who are commanded in this passage, however, because at this point another heavenly being involves the listening prophet in the drama. The prophet is told, "Cry!" That is, he is told, "Preach!" Second Isaiah is given his prophetic call. "But what should I preach?" he asks the heavenly being. Prophets have no true words unless the words are divinely given. And the heavenly being replies with the answer. "All flesh is grass, and all its beauty like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades." And that's true, isn't it? We do have our beauty, our glory, our wonderful inventions and creations, our artistic endeavors, our works of music, our loves, our aspirations. But they all fade, don't they? We all pass away, and the wonderful works of us human beings seem to disappear with time and the wind. But, the heavenly voice proclaims to Second Isaiah that one thing is permanent. One thing never fades or passes away. And that is the word of our God that will stand forever. In other words, God keeps his promises. God never takes back what he has vowed. God speaks and then he does what he has said. And so Second Isaiah can reassure his exiled compatriots that they are not forgotten, that God will keep all the promises he ever made to them, that he will give them a new life in a return to their homeland, as his beloved people. "You shall not go out in haste" from Babylonia, God promises, "and you shall not go out in flight, for the Lord will go before you, and the God of Israel will be your rear guard" (Isaiah 52:12).
That is what Second Isaiah is given to preach to his dispirited people. God has forgiven them, God is coming to them, God is going to lead them home. So the prophet takes up his preaching in the following verses of our text. And he addresses far off Judah, to which the exiles will return. You, Judah, he says in so many words, announce it! Become an evangelist, that is, become a herald of good tidings, shout out this gospel message! "Behold your God!" There he comes! Don't you see him? There he is approaching the holy city of Jerusalem once more. And he's not alone. His reward is with him -- all of those captive exiles whom he is leading home again. Look at that! He comes, the mighty God, able to topple nations and to release a captive people, able to rescue all who wait in trust for his coming (cf. Isaiah 40:31). His strong arm is raised in might, but he also comes with tenderness like a shepherd, gently leading the mother sheep and carrying the lambs, the weak, in his arms.
What a fantastic message Second Isaiah was given to proclaim to his captive, covenant people! And do you know, it all came true? In 538 B.C., working through the Emperor Cyrus of Persia, the Lord God did in fact release his exiled people, and they were free to return to Judah and Jerusalem and to rebuild their ruined city and temple.
But that was not just a promise fulfilled in the sixth century B.C. It also is a Word of God for you and me in this Advent season, because God's word does stand forever, and he never takes back his promises. He did come to us in our captivities, too, did he not? He did in fact come to release us from our exiles, from our imprisonments to sin and death and all the tragedies of this world. As the babe of Bethlehem, he entered this world in weakness, but we know that as our crucified and risen Lord, he also came with might, bursting the shackles of the grave and overcoming the last enemy, death. As for tenderness: Ah! has he not been with us in our most feeling moments of joy or sorrow, drying our tears or sharing our triumphs and always understanding? Yes, God kept his word to come to us in his word made flesh, and at Christmas, we shall celebrate that faithfulness of our Lord once more.
But do you realize that he also kept that promise that said, "The glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together?" What does the Gospel of John tell us? "We have beheld his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father" (John 1:14). Well, that vision is now offered through the Christian Church to every soul on this planet. To every person everywhere, we too can say, "Behold your God!" There he comes! There he comes in might and in tenderness. And maybe, just maybe our task as God's new covenant people is to be the heralds once more of those good tidings, the Gospel, who announce that joyful news.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13
This psalm is a communal prayer for help. After acknowledging the great help of the Lord to their ancestors (v. 1), these psalm singers plead with God to do again what he did for those in the past (v. 4). Though the circumstances are not named, many scholars believe that the psalm refers to impending return from exile, looking forward to the intervention of God in history. The themes of the psalm are like those of Second Isaiah -- "his salvation at hand," "that his glory may dwell in the land." Thus the themes are also those of Advent. In fact, though not quoted in the New Testament, verse 13 brings to mind John the Baptist, the herald of Christ. In this setting, however, righteousness is the herald of God.
Note especially verses 10-11, with the poetic naming of characteristics of the day when the Lord returns. The present situation of Israel was far from ideal, and it was not characterized by steadfast love, faithfulness, righteousness, and peace. Together those things are the ideal conditions for human life together, but they are never fully present this side of the Lord's coming. Perhaps to speak of them poetically (and with hope) was the only viable option for those who did not wish to surrender to despair. So the psalmist waxes poetic:
Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet; Righteousness and peace will kiss each other.
Two weeks after 9/11, Terri Gross of NPR's Fresh Air interviewed the new U.S. poet laureate Billy Collins. She asked him if the terrorist attacks affected how he saw his role as poet laureate. Collins replied that in the days following the attack, "There was a kind of surge of poetry activity, and it seemed there was a kind of need for poetry -- and people turning to me as the laureate for reactions to this ... I found it interesting that in a time of national crisis, that we don't turn to the novel. We don't say, well we should all go out and see a movie that would kind of make us feel better. We turn to poetry...." He added that the attacks tore a hole in the nation and that normal language cannot fill it. But poetry is the best effort for this, he said, adding that one of poetry's "oldest functions is to give a place for grief to go, a place to ritualize grief and make it possible to express in some coherent way feelings that seem to resist expression" (from Fresh Air, broadcast September 26, 2001).
Maybe it will be useful to acknowledge the poetic nature of the psalms, and this psalm particularly. And then ask, how can the poetry of the scripture fill the holes in our hearts?
