Isaiah 35:1-10; Matthew 11:2-11
It’s almost Christmas, so that means we’re
supposed to be merry and bright. Right? But for many of us, this is a tough time of
year. If you look at WebMD or the Mayo Clinic’s
website, you find resources specifically to help people cope with holiday
stress and depression because it’s an actual public-health concern.
That stress and pain can come from the intensity
of our schedules, our expectations of ourselves, and our expectations of others
– the folks we can’t change but sure want to.
It can also come from having lost someone you love, or having lost a
relationship, or struggling with depression generally. It can be hard to keep on smiling through
what’s supposed to be “the most wonderful time of the year,” even for those of
us quite talented at proclaiming, in the midst of our struggles, “It’s all
good!” Well, sometimes it’s not.
Anyway, we all know life can be tough and
that the holidays don’t necessarily help.
Maybe more surprising is what we heard in today’s Gospel reading – that life
became tough enough even to shake the faith of John the Baptist. Just last Sunday, we heard John in all his prophetic
certainty, railing against the Romans and the Jewish religious leaders, calling
them to recognize the presence of God’s true king, to practice justice, and to get
ready for the judgment to come. This
morning, eight chapters later in Matthew’s Gospel, we find John languishing in King
Herod’s prison with no hope of justice for himself. John’s in prison because Herod’s afraid. Herod has his ear to the ground, and he hears
the rumbling of a coming rebellion. Herod’s
one job, as Caesar’s functionary in Palestine, is to keep the peace; so, he throws
John in prison. We don’t know how long John’s
been there at this point, but it must have been quite a while.
Why?
Because we hear John say the last thing we’d expect from the one who was
announcing the coming of the Messiah last week. From prison, he sends his friends to ask Jesus,
“Are you [really] the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” (Matthew
11:3). So much for prophetic certainty. Whatever has happened to John in prison, his
spirit is broken. At this point, he’s
not sure whether Jesus is the king or not.
So, if you’re feeling a little less than
merry and bright this time of year, don’t feel badly because you’re in good
company. Even for John the Baptist, the curtains
of darkness were closing over hope.
But here’s the thing. We can’t let fear and sorrow have the last
word.
Go back to the Old Testament reading this
morning. Last week, the reading from Isaiah
was from the time of the defeat of the kingdoms of Israel and Judah, when the
once-great empire of David and Solomon had been cut to a stump. Today, the Isaiah reading comes from a few
decades later, from the period of the exile in Babylon, when God’s people were
languishing in a foreign land and aching to come home.
In that time of desperation, when the
people must have thought God had abandoned them, the prophet offered hope once again: “Here is your God…,” Isaiah says, “he will
come and save you” (35:4). God will
bring the people home by a road opened across the desert, a way made straight through
the trackless wastes of what’s now Iraq, Saudi Arabia, and Jordan. No one in his right mind would travel there
on foot. But don’t worry, the prophet
says, because waters will spring up in that desert, and you won’t die of
thirst along the way. The wild beasts won’t
harm you, “but the redeemed will walk there,” those whom God has liberated from
the despair of exile (35:9). And in the
power of that liberation, the prophet says, God will heal the spiritual
disabilities of the exiled people: “Then
the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then
the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.”
(35:5-6) The people of Israel sit in
captivity in Babylon, asking God, “Are you really going to come and save us? And God says, “Despite what you see – yes. I am your deliverer. I am your healer. I am your king. Just watch.”
Jesus picks up the same refrain with the
followers of John the Baptist. When they
ask, “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we wait for another?” Jesus
says, look around. “Go and tell John
[the Baptist] what you see and hear” (Matthew 11:4).
And what would that be? Well, for the last seven chapters of Matthew’s
Gospel, Jesus has been curing all kinds of diseases, teaching huge crowds, performing
miracles, and giving his followers the power to heal, and cast out demons, and
proclaim the kingdom of God at hand … despite the persecutions this work
brings. So, Jesus says, “Go and tell
John what you hear and see: The blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the
lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good
news preached to them.” (Matthew 11:4-5)
Yes, he says. Despite what
you see – despite persecution, despite
John rotting in prison, despite the cost that will come to Jesus himself – yes,
he says. I am your deliverer. I am your healer. I am your king. Just watch.
And, don’t let fear have the last word.
Of course, that’s hard to pull off in the
world we know, from our national life to our personal lives. There’s plenty that keeps us up a night. The news tells us that not only do our leaders
seem unable to work together, they don’t even seem to be living on the same planet. Even in a strong economy, millions of people
struggle to feed their kids or risk losing their homes. Illnesses afflict us; and death comes
knocking, even at Christmastime.
But in our all-too-real strife, Jesus
says, choose what you’ll pay attention to, for God is at work even in the hardest
times. Let me share a couple of examples.
As you know, parishioner Bill Meeker died a
couple of weeks ago with no warning, a day after coming here for worship. In a sense, going suddenly is a great way to
go; but on the other hand, it doesn’t leave time to tie up loose ends. And I’m not telling any secrets in saying
that Bill could be a challenging person to relate with. But I have been struck, in the past couple of
weeks, at the number of people who’ve said something along the lines of, “You
know, I’d just had a great conversation with him” or “We were really making
progress” or “We’d finally been able to clear the air.” That’s blessing, even in the darkness.
Here’s another. I know a family struggling with grave
illness. Death will come soon, and they
know it. But in the midst of trying to
make peace with that, the person who’s sick was focused on being sure a message
of thankfulness got to his friends, letting them each know how important they’d
been to him. That’s blessing, even in
the darkness.
Here’s another. I know someone struggling with the prospect
of losing his home. He’s been fighting
to keep it, but the odds aren’t good. Yet
in that drama, he noticed that someone on the other side of the legal issue had
actually taken a step in his interest, trying to give him every chance to
resolve the issue favorably. That’s
blessing, even in the darkness.
And here’s another. I can predict something that will happen this
Saturday, when we offer the Free Store at Grace & Holy Trinity
Cathedral. There, hundreds of people
will be served Christmas dinner, and then they’ll have the chance to shop from
a variety of coats, hats, boots, and gloves to help them stay warm this winter.
And I can tell you how several of those
conversations will go. People from St. Andrew’s
will be sitting at tables with them during lunch, or helping them shop through
the Free Store afterward. And we’ll ask guests
this question: “How are you doing?” And I
guarantee that we will hear this response:
“I am blessed.” I am
blessed. Even in poverty. Even in the darkness.
A big part of getting ready for the coming
of our Savior and King is deciding what we’ll hear and see. So, look for the thirsty ground that God is
watering to bring you out of spiritual exile.
Pay attention to what you learn from reporters of hope, rather than
those who profit from driving us further apart in fear. Seek the healing presence of people around you
in those moments when life brings you pain.
And then, be that reporter of Good News
yourself. As Jesus says to John’s
followers, go and tell others what you’ve heard and seen. The blind receive their sight. The lame walk. The lepers are cleansed. The deaf hear. The dead are raised. And those who are poor, in so many senses,
have good news brought to them. Yes, we
find ourselves in exile sometimes. But
death doesn’t get the last word. For “the
ransomed of the Lord shall return and come [home] with singing … and sorrow and
sighing shall flee away” (Isaiah 35:10).
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