Time for Wonder*
A Reading of Isaiah 11:1-10 NRSV Embodied [motions in brackets]
[One arm flat, other arm rising beside it]
A shoot will grow up from the stump of Jesse;
a branch will sprout from his roots.
[Hands on shoulders for each line]
The Lord’s spirit will rest upon him,
a spirit of wisdom and understanding,
a spirit of planning and strength,
a spirit of knowledge and fear of the Lord.
He will delight in fearing the Lord.
[Cover eyes]
He won’t judge by appearances,
[Cover ears]
nor decide by hearsay.
[Extend hand in offering a hand up]
He will judge the needy with righteousness,
and decide with equity for those who suffer in the land.
[Open mouth]
He will strike the violent with the rod of his mouth;
[Strong exhale]
by the breath of his lips he will kill the wicked.
[Hands on hips]
Righteousness will be the belt around his hips,
and faithfulness the belt around his waist.
[Form claws and release]
The wolf will live with the lamb,
and the leopard will lie down with the young goat;
the calf and the young lion will feed together,
[Gesture as if introducing young child]
and a little child will lead them.
[Act as if chewing cud]
The cow and the bear will graze.
Their young will lie down together,
and a lion will eat straw like an ox.
[move arm like snake]
A nursing child will play over the snake’s hole;
toddlers will reach right over the serpent’s den.
[Arms form mountain]
They won’t harm or destroy anywhere on my holy mountain.
[Arms form valley]
The earth will surely be filled with the knowledge of the Lord,
[Arms make a wave]
just as the water covers the sea.
A signal to the peoples
[One arm flat, other arm rising beside it]
On that day, the root of Jesse will stand as a signal to the peoples. The nations will seek him out, and his dwelling will be glorious.
“Stumped”
Isaiah 11:1-10
December 8, 2019, Boeuff Presbyterian Church
“A shoot will grow up from the stump of Jesse; a branch will sprout from his roots.” These words that we read and acted out today are curious. We’ve all seen stumps, right? Stumps are what’s left when you cut down a tree. Often that tree is cut down because there’s something wrong with it, disease or other forces of nature causing it to no longer be viable.
In the verses just preceding our passage we read that God had been the one to reduce those who have been opposing God’s will to a stump. In Isaiah 10:33-34 we read, “Look, the Sovereign, the Lord of hosts, will lop the boughs with terrifying power; the tallest trees will be cut down, and the lofty will be brought low. He will hack down the thickets of the forest with an axe, and Lebanon with its majestic trees will fall.”
So now we have before us a people who have been cut down completely due to going against God’s will for them. The history of this is a bit complicated, but essentially, the military rulers tried to get around what Isaiah had advised by trying to work with the powers that be against a rebellion, which caused societal collapse and ruin.
Those originally hearing this prophecy are still seeking the redemption promised by the branch growing out of the stump. They remain in exile, utterly stumped by their circumstances. Their lives are devoid of peace, both from within and without. They need this promised resurrection of their people’s viability, but struggle to dare to expect what has been promised. What will become of them?
Hope in the midst of seeming hopelessness is a familiar story both in the Bible and in our media, as that variety of redemption is very compelling. Adam and Eve starting over from exile from the Garden of Eden, Noah’s family rising out of the devastation of the flood, Moses’ redirection from a burning bush in the wilderness, and, of course, Christ’s death and resurrection. We are a resurrection people, after all, and operate from knowing that resurrection is on it’s way, whatever the circumstances may be.
But, that is not where these people find themselves yet. They are yearning mightily for the peace forecasted in Isaiah’s prophecy. And it’s important to name that faithfulness within desperation can still look pretty desperate.
Yesterday, Calvin and I went to see Frozen 2 in theaters. I won’t spoil it for those who haven’t seen it, but there’s a scene, as there is in so many heroes’ journeys when it seems like all hope is lost. The song that the main character sings in that time was especially gripping to me because it worked from despair to hope. Anna sings:
“I’ve seen dark before
But not like this
This is cold
This is empty
This is numb
The life I knew is over
The lights are out
Hello, darkness
I’m ready to succumb
…Can there be a day beyond this night?
I don’t know anymore what is true
I can’t find my direction, I’m all alone
The only star that guided me was you
How to rise from the floor
When it’s not you I’m rising for?
Just do the next right thing
Take a step, step again
It is all that I can to do
The next right thing”
When your context is despair, choosing to do the next right thing can be a revolutionary act.
The next right thing. For the despairing Judeans in the face of ruin, it looked like placing hope in the leadership of a new king, a young Hezekiah, who just might have it within himself to turn things around. He is the shoot beside the stump. Isaiah’s hope in what seems hopeless.
A stump is most often the end of the tree. But in our text we hear of a tenacious branch coming up alongside, it’s unexpected, and reflects hope in the midst of hopelessness.
Something else that seems impossible In these verses is the account of animals who are naturally enemies laying down beside one another. Working Preacher, a lectionary website and podcast from Luther seminary, points to how these passages don’t say that the wolf is no longer around the lamb or that the snake is no longer going to be terrifying to the worried parent, but that this peaceable Kingdom, as it is often called, removes the wolves desire to hurt to hurt the lamb and leave the snake to no longer strike in the hands of a child playing near. I can imagine a child being naive to the risk of being around a serpent, but struggle to imagine a lamb choosing to lie down beside a wolf. Achieving the peaceable kingdom causes not only peace, but also the internal reformation of impulse to see the enemy as an enemy. It is not instinctual.
And so that brings me to us. We live in a world that is not always, or some may say often, peaceable. There are wolves in this world that are far more than mere metaphors. But the hope of peace is that God can transform the motivations and desires of those who seek to harm us as well and at the very same time liberate us from our fear. This does not mean we are to be doormats to those who want to harm us, but that only when we are willing to see the image of God at work in our enemy are we able to begin to work towards true restorative peace.
Peace, our Advent Wreath word of the day, is so much more than a graduation speech platitude or a hand sign thrown out by a surfer. It is borne through the active work of seeking justice. It is seeking the next right thing when at the impasse of misunderstanding and pain.
In 1955, Martin Luther King Jr. responded to an accusation that he was “disturbing the peace” by his activism during the Montgomery Bus Boycott by saying, “True peace is not merely the absence of tension: it is the presence of justice.”
Where in our world are we witnessing injustice? How can we do the next right thing, seeking peace right where we are? What is the new life that God is springing up alongside our desperation? May we be agents of God’s peace. Amen.
*Time for Wonder is what we do at Boeuff Presbyterian as a time for people of all ages to engage with the scripture/sermon in a more interactive way. In other contexts it is often called “Time with Children” or “Children’s Sermon.”
Mary and Martha. These two famous sisters are in several stories throughout the Bible. 
Then there is the story of Mary and Martha welcoming Jesus into their home. Martha buzzes about the kitchen, going about the work of welcoming Jesus. To Martha’s chagrin, Mary sits with Jesus, simply being with him. When Martha comes to Jesus to complain that Mary’s not doing her share, Jesus says, “Mary has chosen the better part.”
Today we have another account of these sisters. Their brother, Lazarus is ill, and so they send word to Jesus to let him know it was a matter of life or death. Jesus dismisses this news saying, “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” We are told in our passage that Jesus loved Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, but still, Jesus stays two days longer where he was.
If you turn on the news there are a terrifying number of situations where innocent lives are killed because of those complex sins of fear, bias, and hatred, all stemming out of a deep well of pain. 
I watched a very important and troubling video these other days about parents and grandparents explaining to their children how they should respond if stopped by a police officer. I’d like us to watch it together, fully acknowledging that this will likely be uncomfortable for many, but also, that that discomfort can stem from the privilege given by the color of our skin and that for many of us in this room, these are not conversations we’ve ever had to have with children. For others among us, these conversations are likely far too real, perhaps even with your own experience of how who you are has warranted undue attention from law enforcement.
Martha leaves her home full of mourners and goes out to meet Jesus. She is beside herself, crying out to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died!”
In their grief, Mary and Martha bring Jesus to the tomb, a cave with a stone in front of it. Jesus says, “take away the stone.” Martha is hesitant, saying, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” Martha asked Jesus to come, practically demanded a miracle and then when he was on the cusp of something great, Martha is afraid of the 
In the strange story of Lazarus, Jesus uncovers hope beyond hope, and new life after death. We affirm in the Apostles Creed that we believe in the resurrection of the body. That after our own death we, like Lazarus will be called out of the doom and gloom of the grave and called to “come out,” into life everlasting. 
I’ve always loved baptisms: the words of promise, the words of covenant, the words of welcoming. It is always an honor and a privilege to perform a baptism. Every one of them is different: I’ve seen wonder and innocence in the eyes of small babies, a range of joy and vulnerability among adults and youth. There were some babies who were calm and happy in the waters, others who squirmed and cried. Each time I’ve made the trip down the aisle with the newly baptised, telling each of them how all of this congregation had just promised to watch out for them. How we as a big Christian family promise at each baptism to nurture each other in the family of faith.
We say the words “remember your baptism,” and for many, myself and many of these babies included, we are not able to remember the exact moment we were baptized. I can’t tell you whether the water was warm or cold. I can’t tell you if it had been rainy day or how many family members showed up. But, I can tell you about seeing the baptisms of many others over the years, and hearing pastors say, “remember your baptism.”
“Remember your baptism.” The echo of those words across the years are more than just trying to recall the specific event of the sacrament of your baptism. They are truly about remembering the covenant of baptism. Remembering the promises of your community to support you as you grow into faith in Jesus Christ. Remembering how you too have promised to support others as they seek to know and follow Christ. Remembering how you are part of a Christian family so much larger than all the Christians you could possibly meet in your lifetime. You are brothers and sisters in Christ, siblings in God’s family.
The Directory for Worship of the PCUSA affirms that our sacraments, including baptism, “are signs of the real presence and power of Christ in the Church, symbols of God’s action.” It also says that “The body of Christ is one, and Baptism is the bond of unity in Christ. As they are united with Christ through faith, Baptism unites the people of God with each other and with the church of every time and place. Barriers of race, gender, status, and age are to be transcended. Barriers of nationality, history, and practice are to be overcome.” And we affirm that, “through the Sacraments, God seals believers in redemption, renews their identity as the people of God, and marks them for service.”
What an incredible claim that is! We are sealed in redemption, renewed as people of God, and marked for service. We are called to be united in that baptism, in equality throughout time and beyond all earthly demographic divisions. We remember our baptism by living into God’s call on our lives, individually and as the body of Christ.
The Directory for worship says, “In Baptism, the Holy Spirit binds the Church in covenant to its Creator and Lord. The water of Baptism symbolizes the waters of Creation, of the Flood, and of the Exodus from Egypt. Thus, the water of Baptism links us to the goodness of God’s creation and to the grace of God’s covenants with Noah and Israel. Prophets of Israel, amidst the failure of their own generation to honor God’s covenant, called for justice to roll down like waters and righteousness like an everflowing stream. (Amos 5:24) They envisioned a fresh expression of God’s grace and of creation’s goodness, a new covenant accompanied by the sprinkling of cleansing water. In his ministry, Jesus offered the gift of living water. So, Baptism is the sign and seal of God’s grace and covenant in Christ.”
Through our baptism every one of God’s children enveloped in the promises of God, each one of us named and accounted for, sharing in God’s blessing at Jesus’ baptism, that each of us is beloved, and in each of us God is well pleased. Thanks be to God. Amen.
There’s a story that was in the news a week or so ago about a New York policeman who offered boots to a man who was elderly, barefoot, and homeless. The policeman, officer Larry DePrimos, bought the shoes with his own money and helped to place the socks and shoes on this man’s feet. A tourist captured it in a photograph and posted it online. The picture went viral and was seen by more than 400,000 people. When questioned about it, the policeman said that he knew he had to help and so he did.
Arnold Cohen, President of the Partnership for the Homeless in New York City says, “We should be asking why there are so many people on the streets. And why a rich city… is so ill equipped to deal with the complexity of homelessness — because it is very complex.”
This was the time of the Roman Empire. There was oppression, persecution, and financial disparity. Many were illiterate and disenfranchised. All except those at the very top were vulnerable socially and economically. It was indeed a time of complexity, when good deeds could be confused and charity could be seen as gullibility. This was not a simple world.
Both the photographer and the officer described the homeless man’s reaction as lighting up like it was Christmas morning. They delighted in this man’s delight. The moment was deemed worthy of capturing, worthy of doing. But when the story changes, is the feeling still the same? Is the action still reasonable? I believe in my heart of hearts, that “no act of love is ever wasted,”
We affirm in scripture and in our creeds as a Church that Jesus Christ, God’s own self, came to this earth and in the most extreme act of love, lived a sinless life, yet died for our sins. We were not and are not worthy of such a gift. There is nothing we can even do to fully earn such an enormous love. But that’s the beauty of grace, it’s a free gift of love, of forgiveness, of redemption.
We are standing at the Advent of God’s presence in the world once again: A birth of One, fully God and fully human, inaugurated at Christmastime. We are also standing at the Advent of the possibility of God’s Kingdom lived out here on earth: God’s love through our love, God’s care through our care. God promised never to leave us or forsake us. God forever desires to be in relationship with us. God is always, God-with-us, Emmanuel. May we remember that promise this Advent season and every day. Amen.
Presbydestrian 