Streams In The Desert
Stories
Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit
Series VI, Cycle A
Object:
"... Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away." Sure does sound like Christmas, doesn't it?
It would be wonderful if everyone could feel it. But the wars go on. Families that have lost loved ones are preparing for a holiday that they could have never imagined. There is a certain dissonance to the season. Trips to malls and stores with the sacred Muzak in the air singing of "Joy To The World" or "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen" mock the harsh realities.
Do you remember television's Ally McBeal? One particular episode opened with Ally slowly making her way home after some Christmas shopping when she spies a man standing in a cemetery looking down through tears at a new gravestone. Ally gently asks if there is anything she can do. The response: not unless you are an angel ... or a prophet. As he turns to Ally, his overcoat, open at the neck, reveals a clerical collar; it turns out he is a Methodist minister. He tells Ally that the gravestone belongs to his wife, just recently murdered by a nervous robber who shot her while she fumbled too long in her purse. He also notes that he has just lost his job -- his congregation's administrative board fired him. Why? "They say because I can no longer do my job."
"Why do they say you can no longer do your job?"
"Because I don't believe in God."1
Oh.
Far-fetched? A minister losing his faith? It can happen. And if it can happen there, it can happen anywhere. Ancient Israel would have been a candidate. The mighty empire of Babylon had conquered the tiny nation of Judah; all that remained of the great kingdom of David and Solomon. They had stripped that nation bare. Whole cities had been burned to the ground. They took the crops and livestock of every farmer and left nothing but scorched earth. They killed or captured the rulers, the teachers, the scientists, the priests, the heads of corporations, and took the survivors to Babylon as prisoners. The physical and emotional and spiritual devastation was horrible.
The book of Lamentations captures the desolation in its mournful poetry. "How deserted lies the city, once so full of people ... All her people groan as they search for bread; they barter their treasures for food to keep themselves alive ... They say to their mothers, 'Where is bread and wine?' as they faint like wounded men in the streets of the city, as their lives ebb away in their mothers' arms" (Lamentations 1 & 2 passim). Picture the destruction and poverty in Europe following World War II, or the images of children foraging for food. Or hear the weeping of people culling through the remains of their homes after the bombing of their city. It was to these sad people that Isaiah 35 came.
As they picked through the ruins of their lives, the prophet gave them a beautiful vision of the future. Farms had reverted to wild ground, but that land would be covered again with flowers and fruit. All the trees had been cut down either for warfare or for firewood. But soon the land would be covered with the cedars of Lebanon, trees so big it would take twelve people to encircle their trunks. In many places, rivers and springs had been poisoned, wells had been destroyed, dams and levees had been ruined. But once again, water would flow in the desert to replace the mirages on the sand. Villages had been abandoned, but were now the headquarters for thieves and scavengers. Soon they would again be safe places, filled with people, a time when "the eyes of the blind [will] be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped. Then will the lame leap like a deer, and the mute tongue shout for joy." Wow!
Isaiah presents a wonderfully hope-filled scene. As these folks who long ago gave up looking for any joy in living, these who have suffered a period of spiritual or emotional "exile" because of a long illness, recovery from addiction, or even the tragic death of someone very special, whether in a television drama like Ally McBeal, the global-impact drama of wars and violence, or any of life's cruel and painful dramas in between, as these desperate people scavenge the ruins of their lives, they see an eruption. "The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom. Like the crocus, it will burst into bloom ... Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert. The burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs." Life everywhere!
And in the midst of it, there is singing. The sound is distant at first. But it swells and grows. Then a mighty parade comes into view. The ransomed of the Lord -- those who had languished in exile -- return to their homeland. There will indeed be "Joy to the world, the Lord is come." Yes! "Gladness and joy," says the prophet, "and sorrow and sighing will flee away." And all God's people ... people then and people now and people forevermore ... all God's people can say, "Amen!" And Amen! And Amen again!
____________
1. David E. Kelley, "Nine One One," Ally McBeal, FOX Broadcasting, 12/10/01.
It would be wonderful if everyone could feel it. But the wars go on. Families that have lost loved ones are preparing for a holiday that they could have never imagined. There is a certain dissonance to the season. Trips to malls and stores with the sacred Muzak in the air singing of "Joy To The World" or "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen" mock the harsh realities.
Do you remember television's Ally McBeal? One particular episode opened with Ally slowly making her way home after some Christmas shopping when she spies a man standing in a cemetery looking down through tears at a new gravestone. Ally gently asks if there is anything she can do. The response: not unless you are an angel ... or a prophet. As he turns to Ally, his overcoat, open at the neck, reveals a clerical collar; it turns out he is a Methodist minister. He tells Ally that the gravestone belongs to his wife, just recently murdered by a nervous robber who shot her while she fumbled too long in her purse. He also notes that he has just lost his job -- his congregation's administrative board fired him. Why? "They say because I can no longer do my job."
"Why do they say you can no longer do your job?"
"Because I don't believe in God."1
Oh.
Far-fetched? A minister losing his faith? It can happen. And if it can happen there, it can happen anywhere. Ancient Israel would have been a candidate. The mighty empire of Babylon had conquered the tiny nation of Judah; all that remained of the great kingdom of David and Solomon. They had stripped that nation bare. Whole cities had been burned to the ground. They took the crops and livestock of every farmer and left nothing but scorched earth. They killed or captured the rulers, the teachers, the scientists, the priests, the heads of corporations, and took the survivors to Babylon as prisoners. The physical and emotional and spiritual devastation was horrible.
The book of Lamentations captures the desolation in its mournful poetry. "How deserted lies the city, once so full of people ... All her people groan as they search for bread; they barter their treasures for food to keep themselves alive ... They say to their mothers, 'Where is bread and wine?' as they faint like wounded men in the streets of the city, as their lives ebb away in their mothers' arms" (Lamentations 1 & 2 passim). Picture the destruction and poverty in Europe following World War II, or the images of children foraging for food. Or hear the weeping of people culling through the remains of their homes after the bombing of their city. It was to these sad people that Isaiah 35 came.
As they picked through the ruins of their lives, the prophet gave them a beautiful vision of the future. Farms had reverted to wild ground, but that land would be covered again with flowers and fruit. All the trees had been cut down either for warfare or for firewood. But soon the land would be covered with the cedars of Lebanon, trees so big it would take twelve people to encircle their trunks. In many places, rivers and springs had been poisoned, wells had been destroyed, dams and levees had been ruined. But once again, water would flow in the desert to replace the mirages on the sand. Villages had been abandoned, but were now the headquarters for thieves and scavengers. Soon they would again be safe places, filled with people, a time when "the eyes of the blind [will] be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped. Then will the lame leap like a deer, and the mute tongue shout for joy." Wow!
Isaiah presents a wonderfully hope-filled scene. As these folks who long ago gave up looking for any joy in living, these who have suffered a period of spiritual or emotional "exile" because of a long illness, recovery from addiction, or even the tragic death of someone very special, whether in a television drama like Ally McBeal, the global-impact drama of wars and violence, or any of life's cruel and painful dramas in between, as these desperate people scavenge the ruins of their lives, they see an eruption. "The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom. Like the crocus, it will burst into bloom ... Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert. The burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs." Life everywhere!
And in the midst of it, there is singing. The sound is distant at first. But it swells and grows. Then a mighty parade comes into view. The ransomed of the Lord -- those who had languished in exile -- return to their homeland. There will indeed be "Joy to the world, the Lord is come." Yes! "Gladness and joy," says the prophet, "and sorrow and sighing will flee away." And all God's people ... people then and people now and people forevermore ... all God's people can say, "Amen!" And Amen! And Amen again!
____________
1. David E. Kelley, "Nine One One," Ally McBeal, FOX Broadcasting, 12/10/01.
