Advent 3A 11 December 2022 We learn early on in life to distinguish road signs and landmarks. When our parents took us to our favorite places, we’d look out for beloved signs that indicated to us where we were on the journey. When I was little, my brother and I took music lessons, and our father had to drive us every Tuesday to the next town over where the music store and music teachers were. In that 20 minute ride, which seemed like forever, we’d point out to each other gasoline stations, funny houses, a windmill… each landmark gave us an idea of how close we were to arrival. And just about 3 minutes before arrival, we’d go up and down a huge hill, and we’d cheer for joy! We were close to our destination, the beloved music store! Isaiah’s passage today brings us an image of a highway, streaking through the desert. It will be called a Holy Way, he says. A highway in the ancient world was built by a king or an emperor. The chief purpose of such roads was to take the king’s armies from one place to another. A highway was always the result of an oppressive tax levied on the people. A highway was an instrument of empire—a means of travel for armies, and a route for the processions of conquering kings. Processions meant to terrorize and control the population. In Jesus’ day, the Romans had built thousands of miles of highways, many of which still exist. There was no question that the Roman roads were instruments of conquest and occupation. But Isaiah’s Holy Way is not a highway of conquest. This is a highway where a different kind of people travel—holy pilgrims traveling in fellowship toward Jerusalem. As they go, they are singing songs of praise to the Lord God. In Advent, the readings about John the Baptist also talk about a road, a “way.” “Prepare the way of the Lord!” John exhorts us. What kind of road are we preparing? What do we do to prepare a way? A parishioner recently asked me if Advent was a penitential season. Many churches change the vestments on the altar from green to violet—is that to connect this season to Lent, which is also color-coded in violet? This is a very good question and it gives scholars and pastors a lot of material to ponder over. I think the best answer is that Advent is reflective—meaning that we should be in thought and prayer, and possibly that might mean some spiritual housekeeping. Like confession. Like repentance. But the focus is different. For example, in Lent, many of our prayers are voiced in the first-person singular, Forgive my sins. Advent, however, uses the first-person plural, and our focus is more corporal. Handel’s Messiah has a chorus, “All we like sheep have gone astray.” Our collect this Sunday mentions, “we are sorely hindered by our sins.” So Advent asks us to collectively ask ourselves, “Where have we gone astray? Where have we missed the mark?” Even John the Baptist wondered if he had put all his spiritual eggs in the wrong basket. Was Jesus who John thought he was? Was he leading people astray? Jesus answers him: Read the signs. See what’s happening. Decide for yourself, but the evidence is here. Jesus wants John, and us, to read the road. Look at the landmarks. We’re getting close! The HILL! John says to us, “Prepare the way of the Lord.” What on earth does that mean? I think it means, we have to become the road, the Holy Way. Isaiah says that the redeemed shall walk there. But it also means that we can’t passively wait, but rather participate in God’s work of constructing a highway. One that is not a pathway for empire, but a road to redemption. We don’t walk this Holy Way alone. We walk as a holy band of pilgrims, a motley caravan of the redeemed. As we walk, our weak hands are strengthened, and our feeble knees are made firm. And we’re waiting for our Redeemer, our Emmanuel, our God-With-Us, to walk alongside us.
Advent 3A 11 December 2022 We learn early on in life to distinguish road signs and landmarks. When our parents took us to our favorite places, we’d look out for beloved signs that indicated to us where we were on the journey. When I was little, my brother and I took music lessons, and our father had to drive us every Tuesday to the next town over where the music store and music teachers were. In that 20 minute ride, which seemed like forever, we’d point out to each other gasoline stations, funny houses, a windmill… each landmark gave us an idea of how close we were to arrival. And just about 3 minutes before arrival, we’d go up and down a huge hill, and we’d cheer for joy! We were close to our destination, the beloved music store! Isaiah’s passage today brings us an image of a highway, streaking through the desert. It will be called a Holy Way, he says. A highway in the ancient world was built by a king or an emperor. The chief purpose of such roads was to take the king’s armies from one place to another. A highway was always the result of an oppressive tax levied on the people. A highway was an instrument of empire—a means of travel for armies, and a route for the processions of conquering kings. Processions meant to terrorize and control the population. In Jesus’ day, the Romans had built thousands of miles of highways, many of which still exist. There was no question that the Roman roads were instruments of conquest and occupation. But Isaiah’s Holy Way is not a highway of conquest. This is a highway where a different kind of people travel—holy pilgrims traveling in fellowship toward Jerusalem. As they go, they are singing songs of praise to the Lord God. In Advent, the readings about John the Baptist also talk about a road, a “way.” “Prepare the way of the Lord!” John exhorts us. What kind of road are we preparing? What do we do to prepare a way? A parishioner recently asked me if Advent was a penitential season. Many churches change the vestments on the altar from green to violet—is that to connect this season to Lent, which is also color-coded in violet? This is a very good question and it gives scholars and pastors a lot of material to ponder over. I think the best answer is that Advent is reflective—meaning that we should be in thought and prayer, and possibly that might mean some spiritual housekeeping. Like confession. Like repentance. But the focus is different. For example, in Lent, many of our prayers are voiced in the first-person singular, Forgive my sins. Advent, however, uses the first-person plural, and our focus is more corporal. Handel’s Messiah has a chorus, “All we like sheep have gone astray.” Our collect this Sunday mentions, “we are sorely hindered by our sins.” So Advent asks us to collectively ask ourselves, “Where have we gone astray? Where have we missed the mark?” Even John the Baptist wondered if he had put all his spiritual eggs in the wrong basket. Was Jesus who John thought he was? Was he leading people astray? Jesus answers him: Read the signs. See what’s happening. Decide for yourself, but the evidence is here. Jesus wants John, and us, to read the road. Look at the landmarks. We’re getting close! The HILL! John says to us, “Prepare the way of the Lord.” What on earth does that mean? I think it means, we have to become the road, the Holy Way. Isaiah says that the redeemed shall walk there. But it also means that we can’t passively wait, but rather participate in God’s work of constructing a highway. One that is not a pathway for empire, but a road to redemption. We don’t walk this Holy Way alone. We walk as a holy band of pilgrims, a motley caravan of the redeemed. As we walk, our weak hands are strengthened, and our feeble knees are made firm. And we’re waiting for our Redeemer, our Emmanuel, our God-With-Us, to walk alongside us.
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