Sermon for Second Sunday after the Epiphany
Isaiah 62:1-5
Isaiah 62:1-5
In 1963 a quarter million people gathered for the
March on Washington and Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered his famous “I Have a
Dream” speech. The speech closed with an
improvised litany of his dreams of equality.
It was a speech of hopefulness and strength in a time of despair. I want to say that again – it was a speech of
hopefulness and strength in a time of despair.
This matters because too often I hear people say that it’s easy to
preach hope when things are going well. It’s easy to be strong when there are
no adversaries to face. Yes, of
course. But the time when a people need
hope and strength are not in those times but instead in times where more than
420,000 federal employees are being told to report to work even though they are
not being paid. The time when people
need hope and strength are when more than 380,000 federal employees are
furloughed. The time when people need
hope and strength are when the tensions between the Republicans and the
Democrats are so high that conversation has stopped. The time when a people need hope and strength
are when 54 people have been shot in the City of Chicago in the first 20 days
of 2019. The time when a people need
hope and strength are when elementary school children of color in the City of
Evanston are being called racial slurs.
It’s 2019, my friends, and we are a people who need strength and hope.
It’s somewhere between 520 and 515 BCE and a people
have just returned to Jerusalem after a long captivity in Babylon. They come home to a temple destroyed, a city
laid waste and are faced with the seemingly unsurmountable task of rebuilding
everything from the foundation on up. To
add to the challenge, there was a remnant of people who had not been part of
the exile and for several generations had continued to live in Jerusalem. There
was tension between these groups of Jews. Moroever, the neighbors to the north
– the Samaritans, a group of Jews who had intermarried with Assyrians who had
settled in their land – offer to help the returning exiles rebuild but when
their help was rejected, political tensions mounted. Here were a people in need
of a word of strength and hope:
“For Zion’s sake I
will not keep silent,
and for Jerusalem’s sake I will not rest,
until her vindication shines out like the dawn,
and her salvation like a burning torch . . .
and for Jerusalem’s sake I will not rest,
until her vindication shines out like the dawn,
and her salvation like a burning torch . . .
You shall no more be
termed Forsaken,
and your land shall no more be termed Desolate;
but you shall be called My Delight Is in Her,
and your land Married;
for the LORD delights in you,
and your land shall be married.”[1]
and your land shall no more be termed Desolate;
but you shall be called My Delight Is in Her,
and your land Married;
for the LORD delights in you,
and your land shall be married.”[1]
Like Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech, these words
from the prophet Isaiah breath hope and strength into a people who have all but
given up, a people who have been pushed down, pushed out, pushed aside for
centuries.
In our day and age, when our imaginations fall short
of finding solutions to our common problems, we need this language, we need a
prophetic word, we need to hear that someone has a dream. UCC pastor and
theologian Bruce Epperly writes:
“Unemployment,
illness, injustice, and poverty can constrict our vision, imprisoning us in the
pain of the present moment, unable to look beyond our own personal
misfortunes. . . . At such times, we
lose our dreams, mistaking realism for reality. Our goal is merely to survive,
when our destiny is to thrive. It takes all the energy we have to look beyond
our misfortunes and failures, but this larger vision – the power of the holy
imagination, the lure of an alternative reality – has always been the
inspiration for the prophet and spiritual guide. The dream reminds us that
within what we perceive as limitations are possibilities for adventure and
growth.”[2]
We are a people in need, a nation in need of a new dream of strength
and hope.
Last Sunday evening, Andrea and I went to a Kathy
Mattea concert at Old Town School of Folk Music. She performed a song that night that was new
to me. It’s called “Holy Now,” written
by Peter Mayer. Perhaps some of you know it:
Jesus made the water
wine
And I remember feeling sad
That miracles don’t happen still
But now I can’t keep track
‘Cause everything’s a miracle.
. . .
And I remember feeling sad
That miracles don’t happen still
But now I can’t keep track
‘Cause everything’s a miracle.
. . .
Wine from water is
not so small
But an even bigger magic trick
Is that anything is here at all
So the challenging thing becomes
Not to look for miracles
But finding where there isn’t one
When holy water was rare at best
It barely wet my fingertips
But now I have to hold my breath
Like I’m swimming in a sea of it
I used to see a world half there
Heaven’s second rate hand-me-down
But I walk it with a reverent air
‘Cause everything is holy now.
. . .
But an even bigger magic trick
Is that anything is here at all
So the challenging thing becomes
Not to look for miracles
But finding where there isn’t one
When holy water was rare at best
It barely wet my fingertips
But now I have to hold my breath
Like I’m swimming in a sea of it
I used to see a world half there
Heaven’s second rate hand-me-down
But I walk it with a reverent air
‘Cause everything is holy now.
. . .
Read a questioning
child’s face
And say it’s not a testament
That’d be very hard to say
See another new morning come
And say it’s not a sacrament
I tell you that it can’t be done
This morning, outside I stood
And saw a little red-winged bird
Shining like a burning bush
Singing like a scripture verse
It made me want to bow my head
And say it’s not a testament
That’d be very hard to say
See another new morning come
And say it’s not a sacrament
I tell you that it can’t be done
This morning, outside I stood
And saw a little red-winged bird
Shining like a burning bush
Singing like a scripture verse
It made me want to bow my head
. . .
‘Cause everything is
holy now[3]
We are a people, a nation in need of strength and hope, in need of a
reawakened holy imagination that can see the Good News in a child’s face, a
sacrament in the breaking of a new day, and the revelation of God among us in
the song of a red-winged bird. God does
not keep silent in dark times. God does
not vanish in times of terror or distress.
God does not turn God’s back in times of conflict, unrest and injustice. No.
God will not keep silent. For our
sake, God will not rest. We shall no
more be termed Forsaken and our land shall no more be termed Desolate; but we
shall be called My Delight Is in Her . . . for the LORD delights in us. This is the promise of our God. This is the hope and strength for our
imaginations. Believe the Good News!
[1]
Isaiah 62:1,4.
[2]
Bruce Epperly, “In the Spirit of Martin Luther King: Cultivating a Holy
Imagination,” Patheos, January 14,
2011, www.patheos.com/resources/additional-resources/2011/01/spirit-of-martin-luther-king-cultivating-a-holy-imagination-bruce-epperly-01-14-2011,
accessed January 17, 2019.
[3]
Peter Mayer, “Holy Now,” Million Year
Mind, Blue Boat Records, 1999.
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