Better get ready
Commentary
It is hard to believe that anyone, even a convinced atheist, could read this passage and not be moved by it. This poem ranks with the finest literature ever written. Like the Sermon on the Mount or 1 Corinthians 13, the text speaks so fully for itself that it is difficult to preach on it. One is inclined to read it and say, "That's it folks. I can't improve on Isaiah!"
The setting is thought to be in Babylon, possibly shortly before some were permitted to return to their homeland. That means that we must step back in time from last week's Isaiah text which, as you recall came from a later period. In that lesson the grim reality of destruction and chaos, coupled with the faithlessness of the people, was paramount. But in this lesson there is high expectation and hope.
There are at least three dominant themes in the text. First, there is the message of pardon. They had sinned against God, broken the covenant, and disappointed the One who wanted so much to use them. "She had served her term" in the NRSV replaces the more familiar "her iniquity is pardoned" from older translations. The courtroom language conveys the message that the period of incarceration is over. It is time, regardless of how little she deserves it, for Israel to be free again.
With pardon comes a plea for preparation for what lies ahead. Most every road in Palestine was -- and still is -- crooked. Any of us who have traveled to the Holy Land recall the twisting, winding road that leads from Jerusalem to Jericho. How they must have longed for a straight, level road that would take them quickly to their destination! Isaiah uses this common frustration to make his point: God calls for valleys of darkness to be filled, for mountains of pride and arrogance to be brought down, for crooked ways of deceit to be straightened, for rough places of stubbornness to be smoothed.
There is also promise -- "the word of God will stand forever." What is "the word of God"? First and foremost, it is a spoken word of Good News. It is also a word of judgment and hope -- both prominent in this lesson. For us, it is also the written word -- the Bible. Through this means God speaks to us and prepares us for the Coming One.
2 Peter 3:8-15a
As with the believers in Corinth in last week's second lesson, so it is with Peter's audience. For good reason, they had anticipated an early second coming of Christ. Now they are impatient with the delay. Some may be wavering in their trust in the Gospel.
Peter puts matters into broad perspective. Being familiar with the Psalms, he reminds them that they should know that God's timetable does not match ours. It has been established that with God "one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day." The delay in the coming of Christ has nothing to do with God's slowness or indifference. On the contrary, the delay is rooted in God's desire that none should perish, but that "all ... come to repentance." In other words, the delays should be seen as an opportunity to work even more diligently so that more and more will hear the Good News.
To those who are discouraged or tempted to relax their efforts, Peter gives a strong call to committed living. "What sort of person ought you to be in leading lives of holiness and godliness .?" is a rhetorical question. The answer is clear. Because we live in hope and confidence that God will act at the right moment, we can be done with useless speculation and fruitless anxiety and get on with the work of the Kingdom.
What is meant by "hastening the coming of the day of God" (v. 12)? Is Peter actually making the case that our diligence will bring about an earlier coming of the Kingdom? It seems so. There was a tradition in apostolic times that the fervent prayers of the believing community would do just that. And, conversely, it was thought that sin would delay the coming.
While we may have trouble with such ideas -- in fact, with the whole concept of a second coming -- he would surely endorse the thought that in any age and in any situation the faith and integrity of believers brings the blessings of the Kingdom. Whatever lies in the future, God keeps coming and coming in and through the events of time. And though we can hardly imagine what it will be like, we affirm that God will speak a final word in the course of history. In the meantime, our challenge is to call our listeners to alertness to the presence of God in our world and to lives that make clear that we believe that God is at work in the here and now.
Mark 1:1-8
Starting last Sunday and continuing through the year we will be living primarily with Mark's gospel. Because of its brevity, lessons from this gospel will be supplemented with readings from other gospels, especially John. What strikes us about Mark's gospel is its directness, its abruptness. We see it here in the very opening verses of chapter 1. We might have expected some sort of introduction. Instead, we plunge immediately into the heart of the Gospel -- it is Good News "about Jesus Christ, the Son of God." While the phrase "son of God" was not particularly messianic in character before the time of Christ, his use of it as a self-designation gave it new meaning. Thus, by the time Mark wrote his gospel, it had taken on a very distinct meaning. This man is not another "son of God." This is the Son of God, the one and only.
John the Baptist will play a large role in the lessons for the Sundays of Advent. His life is intertwined with that of Jesus. First, he prepares the way. His imprisonment and the beginning of the public ministry of Jesus are linked. And, finally, his death becomes an anticipation of the death of Christ. The severity of his way of life -- rough clothing, simple diet, the desert environment -- are reminders of the life of Elijah. As with the Old Testament prophet, John is called to stand over against, to call to repentance, to prepare for one greater than he.
The kind of repentance John calls for is not superficial. In fact, at no place in the Bible is there a suggestion that repentance is mere adjustment, a small course correction, a bit of improvement here and there. Repentance is radical. It means a complete change, a turn in the direction opposite to where one is headed, a new way of life. What John calls for has been described by Lesslie Newbigin as "a new mind. My ordinary human nature is brought under a death sentence; but death is not the end, for he died that I might live, and his dying for me brings forth new life in me, a life which is lived 'in Christ' and 'for Christ.' It is from that new birth that the good deeds of the Christian life spring." (Lesslie Newbigin, Sin and Salvation, Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1956, p. 100.)
That is John's point. The Lord cannot come to a people who are not prepared. The way to prepare is to repent and receive the new life. The image of flowing water and baptism is picked up later by Paul in his letter to the Romans when he says that in baptism we are joined with Christ in his death and resurrection.
Suggestions For Preaching
In the coming weeks we will give much attention to the birth stories. In fact, we may already be hearing them at Sunday church school programs and many other Christmas-related events. That is well and good. But this account from Mark is a reminder that the Gospel account stands by itself whether we have those birth stories or not. Without taking from them, we should recall that in the letters of Paul and other early literature attention always went to the public ministry, death and, especially, the resurrection of Jesus Christ. We are reminded again that the full impact of the Advent season will be lost if we rush too quickly into Christmas. This is preparation time. This is a day to call for reflection on our sin, our unworthiness, and our need to repent.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Isaiah 40:1-11
As well known and dearly loved as these words are, in them Isaiah states a couple of assumptions likely to provoke immediate disagreement if not outright hostility. But in the offense, there is promise enough to sustain Advent's hopes.
The first problematic assumption appears in the assertion that the same God who says, "Comfort ye, comfort ye my people" has worked the desolation of the holy land and the years of exile as punishment. The current redeemer is the former afflicter who now expresses satisfaction with what has taken place: the chosen, reduced to a remnant, have lost everything!
It has become a common article of faith in popular religious culture that God would never hurt anyone. "God is love, after all" -- an indiscriminate, all-accepting benefactor, concepts of whom can be shaped to virtually any personal level of comfort or affirmation. To paraphrase H. Richard Neibuhr's acrid observation of some years ago, in such thinking, a God without wrath brings people without sin into a kingdom without pain through the ministrations of a Christ without a cross.
If Isaiah's image of God doesn't provide problem enough, he compounds the offense with a wholesale dismissal of every human enterprise: "All flesh is grass," as the older translation had it, "it comes forth as the flower of the field and withers." Death so holds creation in its thrall that the greatest achievements of human ingenuity have as much chance as an orchid in a torrid wind -- here today, gone tomorrow.
There are going to be no guest appearances on Oprah or Geraldo with such talk. It must be, given contemporary interpretation, that Isaiah suffered from a poor self image -- one that led him to project his shame onto the human community like some pervasive smudge.
But for all of the counter-cultural cut in Isaiah's words, there is at the same time promise -- such an assertion of God's abounding goodness that these words continue to preach millenniums after they were originally uttered. It is hidden in the offense.
Wilderness can be geographic -- desert or endless forest. But it can be cultural, social, familial, intellectual, or spiritual as well. Whatever form it takes, Isaiah -- and John the Baptist after him -- proclaim God's work taking shape in the midst of it: beyond the precincts of the holy, the classrooms and sanctuaries, where the chaos of the ordinary engulfs the human heart in hopelessness and wonder if God will ever back off and save. It's there, right there, in the midst of all such loss, that Advent happens. The God who pursues like the hound of heaven is determined to save, even if it means taking on all the forces of the wild.
The setting is thought to be in Babylon, possibly shortly before some were permitted to return to their homeland. That means that we must step back in time from last week's Isaiah text which, as you recall came from a later period. In that lesson the grim reality of destruction and chaos, coupled with the faithlessness of the people, was paramount. But in this lesson there is high expectation and hope.
There are at least three dominant themes in the text. First, there is the message of pardon. They had sinned against God, broken the covenant, and disappointed the One who wanted so much to use them. "She had served her term" in the NRSV replaces the more familiar "her iniquity is pardoned" from older translations. The courtroom language conveys the message that the period of incarceration is over. It is time, regardless of how little she deserves it, for Israel to be free again.
With pardon comes a plea for preparation for what lies ahead. Most every road in Palestine was -- and still is -- crooked. Any of us who have traveled to the Holy Land recall the twisting, winding road that leads from Jerusalem to Jericho. How they must have longed for a straight, level road that would take them quickly to their destination! Isaiah uses this common frustration to make his point: God calls for valleys of darkness to be filled, for mountains of pride and arrogance to be brought down, for crooked ways of deceit to be straightened, for rough places of stubbornness to be smoothed.
There is also promise -- "the word of God will stand forever." What is "the word of God"? First and foremost, it is a spoken word of Good News. It is also a word of judgment and hope -- both prominent in this lesson. For us, it is also the written word -- the Bible. Through this means God speaks to us and prepares us for the Coming One.
2 Peter 3:8-15a
As with the believers in Corinth in last week's second lesson, so it is with Peter's audience. For good reason, they had anticipated an early second coming of Christ. Now they are impatient with the delay. Some may be wavering in their trust in the Gospel.
Peter puts matters into broad perspective. Being familiar with the Psalms, he reminds them that they should know that God's timetable does not match ours. It has been established that with God "one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day." The delay in the coming of Christ has nothing to do with God's slowness or indifference. On the contrary, the delay is rooted in God's desire that none should perish, but that "all ... come to repentance." In other words, the delays should be seen as an opportunity to work even more diligently so that more and more will hear the Good News.
To those who are discouraged or tempted to relax their efforts, Peter gives a strong call to committed living. "What sort of person ought you to be in leading lives of holiness and godliness .?" is a rhetorical question. The answer is clear. Because we live in hope and confidence that God will act at the right moment, we can be done with useless speculation and fruitless anxiety and get on with the work of the Kingdom.
What is meant by "hastening the coming of the day of God" (v. 12)? Is Peter actually making the case that our diligence will bring about an earlier coming of the Kingdom? It seems so. There was a tradition in apostolic times that the fervent prayers of the believing community would do just that. And, conversely, it was thought that sin would delay the coming.
While we may have trouble with such ideas -- in fact, with the whole concept of a second coming -- he would surely endorse the thought that in any age and in any situation the faith and integrity of believers brings the blessings of the Kingdom. Whatever lies in the future, God keeps coming and coming in and through the events of time. And though we can hardly imagine what it will be like, we affirm that God will speak a final word in the course of history. In the meantime, our challenge is to call our listeners to alertness to the presence of God in our world and to lives that make clear that we believe that God is at work in the here and now.
Mark 1:1-8
Starting last Sunday and continuing through the year we will be living primarily with Mark's gospel. Because of its brevity, lessons from this gospel will be supplemented with readings from other gospels, especially John. What strikes us about Mark's gospel is its directness, its abruptness. We see it here in the very opening verses of chapter 1. We might have expected some sort of introduction. Instead, we plunge immediately into the heart of the Gospel -- it is Good News "about Jesus Christ, the Son of God." While the phrase "son of God" was not particularly messianic in character before the time of Christ, his use of it as a self-designation gave it new meaning. Thus, by the time Mark wrote his gospel, it had taken on a very distinct meaning. This man is not another "son of God." This is the Son of God, the one and only.
John the Baptist will play a large role in the lessons for the Sundays of Advent. His life is intertwined with that of Jesus. First, he prepares the way. His imprisonment and the beginning of the public ministry of Jesus are linked. And, finally, his death becomes an anticipation of the death of Christ. The severity of his way of life -- rough clothing, simple diet, the desert environment -- are reminders of the life of Elijah. As with the Old Testament prophet, John is called to stand over against, to call to repentance, to prepare for one greater than he.
The kind of repentance John calls for is not superficial. In fact, at no place in the Bible is there a suggestion that repentance is mere adjustment, a small course correction, a bit of improvement here and there. Repentance is radical. It means a complete change, a turn in the direction opposite to where one is headed, a new way of life. What John calls for has been described by Lesslie Newbigin as "a new mind. My ordinary human nature is brought under a death sentence; but death is not the end, for he died that I might live, and his dying for me brings forth new life in me, a life which is lived 'in Christ' and 'for Christ.' It is from that new birth that the good deeds of the Christian life spring." (Lesslie Newbigin, Sin and Salvation, Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1956, p. 100.)
That is John's point. The Lord cannot come to a people who are not prepared. The way to prepare is to repent and receive the new life. The image of flowing water and baptism is picked up later by Paul in his letter to the Romans when he says that in baptism we are joined with Christ in his death and resurrection.
Suggestions For Preaching
In the coming weeks we will give much attention to the birth stories. In fact, we may already be hearing them at Sunday church school programs and many other Christmas-related events. That is well and good. But this account from Mark is a reminder that the Gospel account stands by itself whether we have those birth stories or not. Without taking from them, we should recall that in the letters of Paul and other early literature attention always went to the public ministry, death and, especially, the resurrection of Jesus Christ. We are reminded again that the full impact of the Advent season will be lost if we rush too quickly into Christmas. This is preparation time. This is a day to call for reflection on our sin, our unworthiness, and our need to repent.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Isaiah 40:1-11
As well known and dearly loved as these words are, in them Isaiah states a couple of assumptions likely to provoke immediate disagreement if not outright hostility. But in the offense, there is promise enough to sustain Advent's hopes.
The first problematic assumption appears in the assertion that the same God who says, "Comfort ye, comfort ye my people" has worked the desolation of the holy land and the years of exile as punishment. The current redeemer is the former afflicter who now expresses satisfaction with what has taken place: the chosen, reduced to a remnant, have lost everything!
It has become a common article of faith in popular religious culture that God would never hurt anyone. "God is love, after all" -- an indiscriminate, all-accepting benefactor, concepts of whom can be shaped to virtually any personal level of comfort or affirmation. To paraphrase H. Richard Neibuhr's acrid observation of some years ago, in such thinking, a God without wrath brings people without sin into a kingdom without pain through the ministrations of a Christ without a cross.
If Isaiah's image of God doesn't provide problem enough, he compounds the offense with a wholesale dismissal of every human enterprise: "All flesh is grass," as the older translation had it, "it comes forth as the flower of the field and withers." Death so holds creation in its thrall that the greatest achievements of human ingenuity have as much chance as an orchid in a torrid wind -- here today, gone tomorrow.
There are going to be no guest appearances on Oprah or Geraldo with such talk. It must be, given contemporary interpretation, that Isaiah suffered from a poor self image -- one that led him to project his shame onto the human community like some pervasive smudge.
But for all of the counter-cultural cut in Isaiah's words, there is at the same time promise -- such an assertion of God's abounding goodness that these words continue to preach millenniums after they were originally uttered. It is hidden in the offense.
Wilderness can be geographic -- desert or endless forest. But it can be cultural, social, familial, intellectual, or spiritual as well. Whatever form it takes, Isaiah -- and John the Baptist after him -- proclaim God's work taking shape in the midst of it: beyond the precincts of the holy, the classrooms and sanctuaries, where the chaos of the ordinary engulfs the human heart in hopelessness and wonder if God will ever back off and save. It's there, right there, in the midst of all such loss, that Advent happens. The God who pursues like the hound of heaven is determined to save, even if it means taking on all the forces of the wild.
