Cathedral Sermons
2nd Sunday in Advent, 6 December 2009
Readings: Isaiah 40:1-11; Luke 1:1-25
It was no accident that George Frederick Handel chose tonight’s text from Isaiah 40 as the introductory recitative and aria for his magnificent oratorio, The Messiah. He wanted to get the immediate attention of the listeners, and he succeeded. The first words sung, composed in the heraldic clarity of the tenor voice, are words of comfort and hope. They penetrate the air and impact upon the listener at a concert in a way similar to their purpose when written to a depressed and desolate people in exile.
What makes this, and other passages that we read from Isaiah during the Advent season, so powerful is not only its poetic quality and its literary beauty, but the intimately personal relationship which had historically existed between the speaker, Yahweh, and the hearers, the exiled people of Israel. This was no stranger or foreign god speaking. This was the God and Father of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. This was Family speaking, yet the same One who is the creator, ruler, and sustainer of the universe, the one true living God. It is the personal, familial, and relational nature of this God, combined with his majesty and might that infuses this passage with eloquent empathy and incredible power. The God of the universe is a personal God who is aware of distress, brings comfort, speaks tenderly, endures forever, and, like a shepherd, feeds, carries, and leads with gentleness. As Christians, we cannot help but read this passage in the light of the good Shepherd who comes to us in our spiritual exiles and restores hope and strength and enlightenment.
Isaiah is addressing homeless people living in a foreign land under foreign rulers with strange gods. They were discouraged, depressed, and powerless. It is our awareness of the emotional plight of these persons that makes words which are spoken to a people, a nation scattered far from home, become personal to each of us as individuals. The affective responses of depression and despair are real to us individually, even as they can be seen collectively. They are actually among the most highly individualized of feelings, in that they have an isolating and ego defacing effect. One who is deeply depressed feels that no one can understand how bad it feels, and that no one else has ever felt this way before. We have all seen this in others, and have experienced some level of it in ourselves. Generally, to say to a very depressed person, who is exiled from all around them; "I know exactly how you feel," is ineffective and makes rapport difficult to achieve. It is further evidence to the depressed person of their isolation, for no one could possibly understand how they feel, as they perceive it. Feeling alienated and exiled from the natural love, acceptance and empathy of those amongst whom we live, is rarely sorted by words and kind actions…it is only when there is a total shift in the attitudes of a society that the Hope we speak of in Advent can become a reality and bring about new beginnings and end the various states of exile so prevalent in our world.
Advent is for this reason such a significant time in the Christian calendar – it is about reminding church and society to do everything possible, both human and divine to bring people out of exile and depression into an era of hope, peace, joy and love, which the four Advent candles proclaim.
In exile, Israel lost its temple, its land, its stable government, and familiar religious practices. However even in our country today we can readily identify groups who are marginalised and in exile. But it is not only immigrants, and those who are socially and financially deprived who are current exiles; indeed all of us although living in familiar surroundings, experience exile to some degree and know the depression that brings.
Just the changes we now experience around us can create a sense of exile. An astonishing diversity of cultures and languages has appeared in our lives. Less than 50% of Greater Auckland is now of Anglo-Saxon origin. There are in New Zealand more practising Muslims than Methodists. Gay people have generally been freed from living in the closet and are now openly participating in all walks of life. Though many celebrate this wondrous new world, many others feel exiled from their traditional expectations. Exile can be a fearful place as well as an exciting one that heralds new possibilities.
To all of us exiles, God announces the word of comfort. Whether we find exile fearful or hopeful, we all need the word of comfort from our God. Instead of our anger at those who pushed us into exile, God offers comfort in order that all of us in this new world can find hope together.
Advent can be a time for each of us to let go of our prejudices, our fears, our harking back to old ways. We are reminded tonight that a mysterious voice cries out that we must prepare the way for God by building a highway in our desert places (Is 40:3). When God comes, the world does not stay the same; valleys shall rise, rough ground shall smooth out, jagged mountains will be levelled (Is 40:4-5). The coming of God does not mean business as usual! God’s comfort does not imply more of the same in our lives. God comes, and the world will never be the same. Those of us who fear this exile where our expectations have been challenged and sometimes shattered, are now told that this new world may be precisely the world that God comes to bring, a world where great differences are celebrated, where new ideas of living are presented and enjoyed. The mysterious voice demands that by accepting each other and endeavouring to live together well, we can work through our depressive sense of exile and cry out with joy at the freshness of God’s new Creation…