SermonStudio

Years ago, a wise teacher of preachers advised us to prepare our sermons with the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other. His point was that sermons had to be relevant to the day-to-day lives of our people, and the best way to insure that would be to focus on what is going on in our people's world. That is good advice.

So what has the newspaper (or the television or radio or internet or whatever) had for us this week? Probably something bad -- a flash flood here or a shooting there or another scandal in Washington. All of those lend themselves to sermonizing, but be careful about leaving it there. Our lectionary text from Isaiah simply soars with words of hope. When we are confronted with one piece of bad news after another in the papers each day, the temptation to despair can be overwhelming. We need that voice of hope. Listen for it. The words of the Christmas carol, "Do You Hear What I Hear?"1 come to mind.

Said the night wind to the little lamb.
"Do you see what I see?
Way up in the sky, little lamb,
Do you see what I see?
A star, a star, dancing in the night
With a tail as big as a kite,
With a tail as big as a kite."

Something new and unexpected in the air. Think about the text. Isaiah 61 comes from a period a bit more than 500 years before the birth of Christ. It was directed to a people who had grown up in exile; their grandfathers had lost the war with Nebuchadnezzar and had been marched off to Babylon in chains. Now the exiles were being permitted to return to their ancestral lands, a home they had only heard about. But the land "flowing with milk and honey" of which the ancient stories spoke was now a waste. Picture the scene after a hurricane, an earthquake, or a tornado, and you have a sense of what awaited God's people upon their return to Jerusalem and the surrounding towns and villages. Nearly every home, farm, or business had been torn down and left in disrepair. The city wall was gone. Their famous temple had been razed to the ground. The people were devastated, distraught, and depressed.

Enter the prophet, commissioned by the God of all the universe and anointed to speak the unexpected -- good news to people living in terrible times. Gift after gift the Creator will lavish on these beloved people. The horrific conditions of their everyday lives will be reversed: the oppressed will hear good news, the brokenhearted will be embraced, captives and prisoners will be set free, and all who mourn will be comforted. As the prophet proclaims on behalf of the almighty: "I will make an everlasting covenant with them ... they [shall be known as] a people whom the Lord has blessed."

Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy,
"Do you hear what I hear?
Ringing through the sky, shepherd boy,
Do you hear what I hear?
A song, a song high above the trees
With a voice as big as the sea,
With a voice as big as the sea."

Now, fast forward the scene through five centuries. A little town in the hill country of Judea. The home of Zechariah and Elizabeth, a woman who, after years of trying, is finally pregnant with her first child. A demure, devout young cousin is visiting. Engaged to be married, she is also pregnant -- without trying. She tells her cousin the strange story of an angelic visitor and his announcement of her delicate condition. What would Elizabeth say? In Franco Zeffirelli's film, Jesus of Nazareth, the scene is played out with the two ladies. Mary is worried about Joseph not believing her story. Elizabeth says, "Tell him that God gives life where no life was thought to be possible."

Mary knew what was ahead for her. The whispers and the ridicule of neighbors. The stares, the silent treatment, the distance from those who used to call themselves "friends." Even worse would be the harsh words from her family. And then, no matter what she might say, the look that could be on Joseph's face, the one that could as easily say "death" as "divorce." But what do we hear from her? Again something utterly unexpected: "My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant. From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me -- holy is his name" (Luke 1:46-49). Really? Then, with eyes of faith, just as the prophet of old did, Mary sees a world to which others are blind: "He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty" (Luke 1:52-53).

Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king,
"Do you hear what I hear?
In your palace warm, mighty king,
Do you hear what I hear?
A Child, a Child shivers in the cold
Let us bring him silver and gold,
Let us bring him silver and gold."

Something new and unexpected. A word of hope in a hopeless world. Do you hear it? That is the message of Advent. That is the message of the coming of Jesus.

Said the king to the people everywhere,
"Listen to what I say!
Pray for peace, people everywhere,
Listen to what I say!
The Child, the Child sleeping in the night
He will bring us goodness and light,
He will bring us goodness and light."

The wail of sirens, the whine of bullets, the cries of mothers, and the sobs of the suffering children of this world are deafening. They would overwhelm us ... if those were the only sounds out there. But they are not. The newspaper is in one hand, but the Bible is in the other!

Do you hear what I hear? That is not only the question of the Christmas carol, it is the question of Isaiah, it is the question of Mary. It is the question of faith. Do you hear what I hear? Listen ... and be blessed.


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1. "Do You Hear What I Hear?" words and music by Noel Regney and Gloria Shayne, 1952; all verses reprinted by permission.