Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Pastor Doug's Sermon from 10/19/14



Isaiah 35:5-8, Healing Service
 
Amid rumors of war and desolation, the prophet Isaiah this morning unleashes an incredible vision upon us.  Having just spoken harsh words that warn of impending ecological destruction

                                              Devastation and despair…

 Isaiah suddenly throws our speeding car into reverse…
Abruptly stopping us in our tracks...

Scattering remnants of our metaphorical gear shafts across the road.
                                                                                                  And all of this done by a poem!

 Amid rumors of war and desolation…
             Death and destruction…
                       who would imagine that a poem could be so powerful? 
                                   That a poem could throw a monkey wrench into the endlessly                                   spinning wheels of darkness and death?

        That a poem could quench the thirst of those who are         withering on dry, parched, dead land?

And yet it is, precisely THAT:  A poem that speaks of healing in the midst of sickness…                             
                pools in the midst of burning sands
                                                     streams in the midst of desert.

 Some very wise scholars will tell us that the poem we have in this morning’s first reading from Isaiah 35 actually belongs later, somewhere between Isaiah 40 and Isaiah 55.  They will rightly tell us that the language in chapter 35 more closely resembles that of chapters 40-55.  And you know what?  They are probably right.  Isaiah chapter 35 is clearly an “out of place” poem.  It does not belong here!

The poem comes too early.  Someone jumped the gun in putting it here.  Who moved it?  And why did they move it?  When did they move it?  Inquiring theological minds want to know.

Barbara Lundblad, an ELCA pastor who recently retired from teaching at Union  Seminary in New York once said,

“The Spirit hovered over the text and over the scribes:  ‘Put it here’, breathed the Spirit, ‘before anyone is ready.  Interrupt the narrative of despair’. So here it is:  a word that couldn’t wait until it might make more sense.”

I love her words:  “put it here breathed the spirit…interrupt the narrative of despair”.
                              Interrupt the narrative of despair.
                                                              Now there is a mission statement for the church!

 Interrupting the narrative of despair, Isaiah dares to speak a word out of place.  Isaiah dares to speak a word that refuses to wait until it might make more sense.  As Hebrew Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann has reminded us, “Israel’s doxologies are characteristically against the data”.

Characteristically against the data:   We hear and see the data every night on the news and every morning on the front page of the D&C.

Another shooting in Rochester…          
          Geo-political chaos in the Middle East drawing us closer to another war…
                          Growing fear and panic as Ebola claims thousands of lives…

Elected leaders treasuring political power over authoritative governance leading to gridlock and cynicism…

Add to that the data of our own lives:

            Awaiting test results from the doctor…
                             Mourning the death of someone beloved to us…
                                       Wondering if we’ll make it through the next round of layoffs…
                                             Pining for the days before our kids grew up and moved away
              
 Longing for those pre-retirement days when we felt a greater sense of purpose to our lives.

We know the data all too well and we long for a Word out of place.

Well I am here to tell you today, that here in this place and in this moment of time, there is a word out of place.

            A Word that goes against the data…

            A Word that dares to interrupt our narratives of despair…

A Word that speaks to all of us who have entered the wilderness of exile,

                        Who dwell in the land of darkness…

Who wait and wait and wait for God to come and breathe life into us…

                                                Whose hearts are scarred, torn, and withered…

Who with feeble hands, weak knees, parched throats, and aching hearts wonder when our exile will end.

Our narratives of despair are interrupted.

 

You, who cannot see past the fears of a frightening diagnosis or an impending medical procedure…

“Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,

 

You, who have been beaten down not only by sticks and stones but by words of belittlement, judgment, and derision blasting in your ears telling you that you are “junk”…

and the ears of the deaf unstopped;

 

You, who are paralyzed with fear because you can’t imagine how you’ll pay all the bills this month, especially when you’re not even sure you’ll have a job next month…

the lame shall leap like a deer,

 

 

You, who cannot bring yourself to speak words needed to heal the pain and anguish of a broken relationship…

                                                            the tongue of the speechless shall sing for joy. 

 

You, whose parched hearts still break over the death of a spouse, a partner, a parent or a child  and who feel like you are being swallowed up in grief

Waters shall break forth in the wilderness, streams in the desert, the burning sand shall become a pool, the thirsty ground springs of water

 

You, who wander through the dark valley of depression not knowing where the pathway lies or that there even is a pathway…

a highway shall be there; it shall be called The Holy Way

 

Into the face of despair – not denying its presence – right into the teeth of despair, Isaiah shouts a word of hope. 

Not only does God break the darkness by remembering you in this place of exile, but God has the power to do something about it.

 

For you see, God has a highway crew, and a road has been built.

  A road built by God’s prophets and sealed by the Cross of his son…

                                    A road where we hear the most incredible words of healing

                                                            “This is my body given for you…

This is my blood shed for you”

A road that leads us exiles home.

Not to some nostalgic place from our past, but home to God’s heart

where, as Eugene Peterson describes it, “all sorrows and sighs scurry into the night”.

 

You, whose feet are tired and worn-out from walking on burning sands of despair and brokenness…

            You, who know all too well the pain of being dis-connected in exile…

 

Take heart! 

For the One who stops us abruptly in our tracks is here…

            The One who interrupts our narrative of despair is here…

The One who joined us in our exile by taking our wounds with him onto a Cross is here..

                                    Right here!  In our midst.

Whispering into unstopped ears…

  “I love you with all my heart.

Welcome home."

 

 

           

 

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