Beauty from the Muck (Isaiah 64:1-9)

 When Ginger and I flew out here from California last September to meet with the search committee, everything was so beautiful here in central Illinois. The sun was shining, the temperature was perfect, the humidity was just right, and the trees were full of beautiful green leaves, with just a few early hints of changing colors. 

But now, look…

Except for one beautiful but short fir tree outside my bedroom window, the only leaves I see now are on the ground, withered and faded.

So, naturally, when I read today’s scripture, what stood out to me was the verse that compares God’s people to a fading leaf; or, as the CEB puts it, a withered leaf.

And while the leaves may still be green back in California, here in Illinois, they’re pretty much all withered. 

People don’t like to look at withered leaves. Decaying leaves. Leaves on the lawn and in the gutter, all turning to muck.

So the leaves get raked up… and collected… and vacuumed! Not more than 30 minutes after we arrived at our new home, got the keys from the landlord, and began settling in, we saw the city workers come by and vacuum the leaves.

They don’t do that in southern California. I had no idea they did that anywhere. Yes, I took a picture. 

Ecologists and naturalists tell us that it’s good to leave leaves on the ground, to not rake them up, because then they can decompose into the soil, and they become fertilizer, helping the trees and flowers grow in the spring. 

But I hear that the leaves that the city vacuums up get mulched and delivered to farmers to use as compost for their crops. So that’s good. 

I do get why we want the leaves off our lawns. Faded, withered leaves that fall and decompose turn all icky and messy and gross after a while.

But even though they look icky and messy and gross to us, they become the fertilizer that makes next spring’s flowers and crops grow so beautifully.  Beauty and new life come from these faded, withering leaves. 

Like Thich Nhat Hanh said: no mud, no lotus. There is beauty and life in the muck. 

And that’s how it is in God’s kingdom: what we often consider icky and messy and gross is actually what makes life possible and beautiful. 

In that same verse that talks about the faded, withered leaf, Isaiah also mentions that the people have become unclean, and their deeds like a filthy cloth. 

But when I read this verse in the CEB, it didn’t say, “filthy cloth.” It said “menstrual rag.”

I didn’t know that was in the Bible. Is that really what it says?

I looked into it, and sure enough, in Hebrew, the phrase does indeed refer to a menstrual rag.

Apparently the translators of the NRSV, who were almost all men, were a bit embarrassed by this phrase. That’s my guess, anyway: that these men were too uncomfortable to talk about menstruation. So they just called it a filthy rag. The NRSV is a great translation, the one I use most, but no translation is perfect.

The CEB had 20 women on their translator team. I don’t know if that’s the reason or not, but they decided that it was important to be specific, and translate this phrase as menstrual rag. 

A part of me wishes they hadn’t. Because then I wouldn’t feel compelled to talk about menstrual rags, and menstruation, in my very first sermon with you. That’s something they didn’t teach me how to do in seminary!

But they did teach me to tell the truth. And a lifetime of preaching and ministry taught me to not shy away from the truth, and to be real, whenever possible, and to not sweep things under the rug just because they make me uncomfortable. 

We do that in the church, sometimes. We sweep things under the rug. We refuse to talk about things, and we silence people from talking about things… even though these are real things, real issues, that people are dealing with… It’s not very helpful.

And not just in the church; there is at least one state that has made any talk of menstruation against the law, at least in elementary school. But some girls experience their first period at the age of 9 or 10, and if it happens at school, but there’s no trusted adult who can talk to them about it, it can make a potentially scary and confusing experience into something far more traumatic. 

Also: 1 in 5 girls in the U.S. have missed school because they didn’t have access to menstruation products.

In developing countries, lack of access to menstruation products often forces girls to quit their education altogether. 

Not only do they miss school, but their mental health also suffers. They feel broken inside; less than whole. And their communities suffer, too. Less educated young people means a higher rate of poverty in their community. 

So some organizations, including some church groups, make reusable menstrual pads to send to girls in developing countries. With access to these products, the girls miss less school, they get an education…, and this benefits the entire community. 

Those reusable menstrual pads are a blessing. They allow those who receive them to keep going to school, to get an education… and maybe even learn to see themselves and their bodies as sacred, holy, and beautiful. It restores them to wholeness.

So even though it’s an unusual thing to talk about on a pastor’s first Sunday, not to mention the first Sunday of Advent, I hope you can bear with me. 

Both decaying leaves, and menstruation, really are signs of hope, of beauty, and the miracle of life. 

Leaves decaying and turning into fertilizer, to nourish crops and trees and flowers, are signs of life and beauty.

And menstruation is a sign of the human ability to bring new life and beauty into the world.

And as I pondered these things, I wondered how it is that the church has no problem talking about and singing about the blood of Jesus. There is power in the blood! Life comes through the blood of Christ!

Why can we say that life comes through the blood of Jesus, but not that life comes through the blood of menstruation?

I used to donate blood regularly. Donating blood helped make me more aware of how blood gives life. Every time I donated blood, they thanked me for saving lives. And what could be more beautiful or sacred than saving lives?

And even though I am a bit squeamish, being a blood donor helped me see blood as something beautiful, something sacred, a symbol of life. It’s a completely different way of thinking about blood than we might be used to. It’s not icky, or messy, or gross at all.

And all the dead, decaying, rotting leaves that are left on the ground this winter: they, too, can be seen as something beautiful, something sacred: symbols of life.

And this is the power of the gospel: God takes what humans consider filthy, icky, gross, and unclean, and transforms it into a thing of beauty.

Last week, as I was driving across the country from California (I think it was as I was passing through Tucumcari, NM,) I was listening to a podcast, and a woman was telling a story about finding beauty in herself after having a mastectomy. And she talked about other women she knew who, after chemo, and after they lost their hair, refused to be seen without a wig on, or have their photo taken. 

They thought they had become ugly or disgusting.

But this particular woman had learned to see the beauty in herself and in others, despite these circumstances.

That’s what the gospel does. That’s what Jesus did. He helped those who had been told they were ugly or disgusting or unclean see the beauty in themselves, the beauty that had been present since they breathed their first breath. And it made them whole. 

As my drive across the country continued, I pondered how to share with you all these things that God was placing on my mind…

Because as a preacher, when God grabs my attention, and helps me learn something new, I know I’ve gotta share it.

And I need to be ready for that. I need to be ready. I need to keep my mind open, so that I can continue growing in understanding. I need to keep my eyes and my heart open.

I need to be ready.

And being ready is the larger theme that is conveyed not only in this passage from Isaiah, but also in the other lectionary scripture readings for the first Sunday of Advent. Today, all around the world, Christians are hearing scriptures and sermons urging them to keep awake, and be ready… 

Be ready for Christ’s coming. Be ready for the kingdom of God, which is always breaking into our world. Be ready for whatever new insight God has in store for you. Be ready to find new ways of showing love, to God, to yourself, and to your neighbor, whoever and wherever your neighbor may be. 

Advent is a time when God really seems to reach out and grab our attention. It’s a season of scripture passages filled with words like, “Behold!” and “Lo!” which is really just scripture’s way of saying, “Yo, check this out!”

And if we are open to what God is saying in this season, and if we are ready to receive the message that God is sending to us, then we will see new things. We will see God tearing open the heavens and coming down! We will experience mountains quaking!

And if we are open, and ready, we will notice God taking what is often thought of as icky, messy, and gross, and revealing the true beauty that is within. We will see just how it is that God takes all our uncleanliness, and all the world’s uncleanliness and transforms it, bringing us hope and new life.

Tear Open the Heavens (Isaiah 64:1-9)

 Most of you know that the Christian church has its own calendar, and the church year begins four weeks before Christmas, on the first Sunday of Advent. That day is today.

Already, we have lit the first advent candle. We have begun putting up our Christmas and Advent decorations, here as well as in our homes. We have swapped out the green paraments of ordinary time and the white paraments of Christ the King Sunday for purple paraments. Purple paraments are used only during the seasons of Advent and Lent, seasons of preparation and penitence.

And we begin a new season, a new year, of lectionary scriptures.

Scripturally, this season of Advent begins with Isaiah 64, which means it begins with lament. It begins with sorrow. Longing. 

And it stops us in our tracks. 

It’s very different from how Christmas is celebrated outside the church.

It is so strikingly different from “Deck the halls with boughs of holly, ‘tis the season to be jolly, falalalala…” Instead of that, we have Isaiah’s words: “We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a filthy cloth. We all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away…”

And this is just part of a several-chapters-long lament in this section of Isaiah.

Back in 1990, Bible scholar Diane Jacobson wrote about this. She wrote that “this lament sets Advent in the context of a real world in which things are not going well. The world is not a perfect place; people are disillusioned.”

Christmas outside the church presents a make-believe world in which everything is practically perfect. But in the church, when we are honest, we acknowledge that that is not always the case.

In her article, Diane Jacobson explains that “In the historical context of third Isaiah, this lament is voiced after the time of restoration from the exile. All hopes were pinned on that return. Coming home to Jerusalem was going to mean the end of all Israel's shame and discontent. However, things did not turn out so well. Problems multiplied rather than disappeared; ugliness and evil continued to exist.”

So when the people prayed to God, their prayers were basically prayers that asked God to show up. “Come on, God! Tear open the heavens and come down! Show yourself! We’re having a tough time here, God, and we need you!”

This is the scripture we get today. It may not be the Advent scripture that we want. What we want is shepherds and angels and a baby in a manger and a star in the sky. 

And Santa Claus!

A scripture of lamentation and desperation is not what we want. But maybe, a scripture of lamentation and desperation is what we need. Maybe the truth that comes out in a scripture of lamentation and desperation is what we need.

Because, we already know that, for us, this is going to be the darkest, loneliest Christmas in a generation, if not longer. It’ll be my 50th Christmas, and I’ve never experienced a time like this, when the whole world was struggling to find hope and happiness in the midst of a massive, deadly pandemic. Three years ago, my mom died a few days before Christmas… but this is harder.

This isn’t how the holidays are supposed to be! 

This isn’t how the world is supposed to be! 

What the hell, God!?!

Isn’t that Isaiah’s cry, too?

What the hell, God!

260,000 Americans, dead. 

Restaurants and businesses shut down, again.

Church buildings, off-limits.

Children and youth, forced to learn through computer screens.

Leaders and politicians, oblivious to the people’s suffering, willing to sacrifice lives for their own power.

And celebrating Thanksgiving and Christmas apart from our relatives. Apart from our church family.

I’m not criticizing the restrictions we’ve been forced to live with. They are necessary to help control the spread. But I am tired of them. I’m tired of this pandemic. 

Like Isaiah, I am ready for God to tear open the heavens, and come down, and do something, to bring some light to this time of darkness!

This is all a reminder that Christmas happens in the darkness. In literature, darkness is the time of sadness, the time of hopelessness, the time of defeat, and the time when evil powers reign. 

Genesis 1 says that, in the beginning, before God created the heavens and the earth, “darkness covered the face of the deep.” 

Shakespeare uses darkness to symbolize death. In Macbeth, the famous line, "Out, out brief candle," refers to Lady Macbeth's suicide. 

Milton describes the paradox of hell with the phrase, "No light, but rather darkness visible."

Now, think about how much of the Christmas story takes place at night, in the dark... There are stories of dreams, and dreams usually happen at night. There are stories of shepherds guarding their sheep by night. There are stories of magi traveling at night, following a star. And although we don’t know what time of day Jesus was born, we usually imagine that it happened at night.

In the darkness.

And when the early church settled on a date for Christmas, they chose December 25, one of the darkest days of the year in the northern hemisphere. 

Christmas happens in the darkness.

Scholars don’t know exactly what time or even what day Jesus was born. But they do know that it was a difficult time for Jews in Palestine. It was a time when they were crying out for freedom from Roman oppression. 

Rome made it almost impossible to live. Heavy burdens, including heavy taxation, were placed on poor people like Mary and Joseph. Those who tried to resist were immediately squashed by Rome. 

About the time of Jesus’ birth, the nearby town of Sepphoris (which was the closest city to the little village of Nazareth) was the site of a Jewish rebellion, and Rome responded by destroying the whole city. Sepphoris was still recovering and rebuilding throughout the time that Jesus was growing up.

That’s a dark period. It’s another reminder that Christmas happens in the midst of a troubled world, a world of darkness. 

But, strangely, that gives me hope. Because if the Bible is to be believed, it’s not just that God is present in the midst of darkness and trouble - it’s that God is especially present in the midst of darkness and trouble. 

This isn’t always realized at the time, but afterward, it becomes clear. God is especially present in times of darkness and trouble. It’s when we feel most beaten down that God shows up. It’s when the night feels most dark, that the light appears.

So, we need to find ways to let the light of Christ pierce our darkness. The light is there, but you need to look for it. 

Set aside some time to read your Bible. Read the prophet Isaiah. Read the nativity stories from Matthew or Luke. 

Sometimes, when I’m by myself, I find it helpful to read these stories out loud. There is something about hearing the words spoken out loud that helps me understand more fully the meaning, and appreciate the truth that is contained within.

This week I read an article about people who do something else to help them hear the words of scripture at a deeper level. They will take a scripture passage, and slowly write it out by hand with a pen or pencil and a piece of paper. They’ll even draw little doodles or decorations to go with the reading. I might try that... 

...because practices like these can help us cut through the distractions of our world, and catch a glimpse of the light that shines in the darkness. They can help us see that Christmas joy doesn’t arrive in a world free of trouble and turmoil, but that it’s precisely because of all the trouble and turmoil of the world that Christmas joy is so meaningful and so important. 

That’s what hope is all about. If all was well, we wouldn't need hope. It’s when things seem bleak, that hope comes into the world, to sustain us.

And hope lets us know that we can rejoice and be glad, right now, even though things are still a long way from being right. Because God is with us. That’s what “emmanuel” means, by the way; the word “emmanuel” means “God with us.” 

And when God came to earth in the form of a baby born during a troubled time to a poor couple that was far from home; in that moment - and for all of time - God did tear open the heavens, and come down, to dwell among the people, to be the light in the darkness, to guide us safely through these troubled times.

Fixing the Mess (Isaiah 64: 1-9)

I want something more than this reading from Isaiah.

Maybe I’ve seen too many Christmas ads this week, but: I want more!

I want Christmas joy and celebration and happiness.

I want candy canes and shepherds and sheep bleating blissfully on the hillside.

I want the Disney Parks Christmas Day parade, with its non-stop positive feelings coming down Main Street and into my living room.

But that’s not what we get today.

Today, we get… Isaiah. Which isn’t exactly full of Christmas cheer.

You see, for Isaiah, the world was a mess.  Jerusalem had been destroyed. The temple, destroyed. God’s people had been in exile for a long time; their exile was about to end, but the world was still a mess.

And, according to Isaiah, this mess was the fault of the people. “We’ve sinned,” Isaiah says. “We have all become like one who is unclean. No one among us calls [God’s] name.”

The world was a mess, and Isaiah was pleading with God to please do something.  “We’ve made a mess of things, God; I know we have. Please, come do something! Come sort things out for us!”

“Remember when you met your people at Mt. Sinai; they had made mistakes. Yet Moses brought the people out of their camp to meet you, and there you were, with thunder and lightning and loud trumpet blasts!

“Remember when you helped the prophet Deborah and the army commander Barak defeat Sisera and the Canaanites? As it says in the Song of Deborah: ‘You marched from the region of Edom, and the earth trembled, and the heavens poured; and the mountains quaked.’

“And remember when your prophet Habakkuk saw your glory shining like the sun? The prophet said you stopped and shook the earth. The nations trembled, and the mountains were shattered.

“If only you would do that again, God!  If only you would tear open the heavens and come down! Mountains would quake before you like fire igniting brushwood or making water boil. Your enemies would tremble, and there would be peace.

“We need you, God.  Please.”

Did God answer? Did God appear?

The people did get to go back home, back to Jerusalem, and begin the rebuilding of their nation. But so far, it seemed that God had not answered; God had not appeared; which is why Isaiah pleaded for God to intervene. Things were still a mess.

So as much as I want to jump right in to “Joy to the World” and “Peace on Earth” and “Fa la la la la,” I have to first acknowledge the mess that our world is in.

Because I can’t hear Isaiah plead for God to come and sort out the mess without acknowledging that the world is still a mess. And just like in Isaiah’s time, we’re the ones who have made it that way.

We’ve made a mess of things, and we need God to come and sort things out.

We’re destroying our planet’s climate and its ability to support life. There is an overwhelming consensus among scientists that climate change is happening, that it is caused or aggravated by human activity, and that there are huge risks and costs from a changing climate. The U.S. military even said that climate change poses an immediate risk to national security.

What a mess!

We’re at war; our country has been at war for 217 of its 238 years. My son Tristan, who is 13, has never experienced a year in which the U.S. was not at war.

What a mess!

Economically, we continue to see improvements for the wealthiest people in society, but the poor are being left out. The gap between the wealthy and the poor continues to widen, a direct result of the economic and tax policies we have in place. The number of homeless children is growing. Half a million children in California are homeless.

What a mess!

We even have white police officers shooting unarmed black teenagers, 150 years after reconstruction, 50 years after the civil rights movement. They’re still being killed, and justice is still being denied.

What a mess.

I want to gloss over such things.

But Isaiah is forcing me to take a look at the mess.

Isaiah is forcing me to look, and to wonder: Where is God? I see all the decorations and ads, I hear the carols, but I wonder… Where is God?

We read Isaiah a lot in Advent because Christians have always seen Jesus as fulfilling the hope that Isaiah expressed, that God would come into human history and sort out the mess we’ve made. Jesus probably wasn’t what Isaiah was anticipating, historically speaking, but it sure does all seem to come together in the man from Nazareth.

And it is true that in Jesus, God does come to the world, to sort things out. But not in the way that people expect.

For the earliest Christians, the fact that Jesus was crucified was central. Paul writes often about “Christ crucified.”

Never did Paul write about Jesus’s birth.

But what does “Christ crucified” mean?

For Paul and the other earliest Christians, it meant that Jesus stood up to those who were making such a mess of the world. Jesus stood up to the powers of oppression, and those powers of oppression wanted to kill him – and did kill him – because of it.

And the fact that Jesus was resurrected shows that God was involved in all this. God was in the world, working to sort out the mess, through Jesus.

Paul also said that all of us are called to die with Christ, to lose ourselves, and join with Christ in his mission; Paul said that, dying with Christ, we are also resurrected with Christ, receiving new life, made into a new creation.

So while we are waiting for God to clean up this mess, God is waiting for us to clean up this mess! We are called to make God’s kingdom come on earth, as it is in heaven. God’s power is at work within us.

The Spirit is upon us, just as it was upon Jesus, to preach good news to the poor, and to proclaim release to the captives. The Spirit is upon us to proclaim recovery of sight to the blind and freedom to the oppressed. The Spirit is upon us, to work for peace, heal the world, fight for equality, and pursue racial reconciliation.

This understanding of how God worked through Christ and how God calls us to share in that work is very participatory. We are all in this together, working to sort out the mess the world is in. Each one of us is called to this task.

Unfortunately, that’s not how many Christians see things… and here’s why.

About a thousand years after Jesus, a theologian named Anselm came up with an idea that changed how people thought about Christ.

Anselm agreed that humanity has made a mess of the world, and we needed God to come sort things out.

But instead of us sharing in Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection, working with God and allowing God to work through us, Anselm said we don’t have to do a thing. Jesus did it all. Jesus took our place. Jesus paid the price.

All the work of making the world a better place, Jesus took care of on the cross.

There’s no dying with Christ, said Anselm. Jesus took our place, he paid the debt.

Do you see the difference?

A lot of people today talk about how Jesus took our place, and how Jesus paid the debt. These ideas are not biblical. They were invented by Anselm, a thousand years after the time of Jesus.

It’s the difference between a wish and a hope. A wish is something you want, but aren’t willing to work to achieve. You make a wish, and then you sit back and wait for the wish to come true.

A hope is different. A hope expresses something you want; but a hope is also something you are willing to work for. You are willing to join in the process of making what you hope for, happen.

When we express our hope that God comes to earth to set things right, we wait. We wait for that to happen. But we don’t just sit still while we’re waiting! We don’t sit and do nothing while we wait.

Because the Spirit of the Lord is upon us, at work, always, even when it seems that God is absent. And the Spirit of the Lord is continually molding us and shaping us, so that the kingdom of God can come to earth through us.

The kingdom of God is how the Bible describes a world in which things are as they should be, as God desires things to be. The kingdom of God is a world of wholeness and shalom.

It is a kingdom that has not yet arrived, and so we wait for its arrival.

But at the same time,  it is a kingdom that has arrived. The kingdom is present in you.

So as we hope and wait for God to sort things out and make a better world, in the meantime, we know that the Christmas joy and celebration we hope to see in the world already dwells within us. And Christmas hope is revealed in every person who seeks peace, every person who acts with kindness, every person who cares for the earth, every person who demands justice, every person who pursues racial reconciliation, and every person who stands up for equality and freedom for all people.

When people like that move from passive wishing to active hoping.and share in the work of Christ, then we will see God in the world, bringing wholeness and joy.

Every Sunday, we sing what we call a “Hymn of Invitation” following the sermon. I don’t say this every Sunday, but the reason we call it that is that, traditionally, it is the time in the worship service when people are invited to come forward and join the church.

What does it mean to join the church? It means to join in the work of making God’s kingdom a present reality in our world today. It means not sitting by, waiting for someone else to fix the world, but actively continuing Christ’s work of bringing wholeness to everyone. It means dying with Christ – dying to living only for yourself – and allowing God to remake you into someone new, someone committed to helping sort out the mess the world is in. It means recognizing that the Spirit of the Lord is upon you, and is calling you to share in the work of Christ.

Because God is in the world today. God does come to earth at Christmas, as well as every other day of the year. God is present in those whose hearts follow God, and who join with others in creating a movement that works to bring peace and joy to earth.

If you’re not officially a member of Bixby Knolls Christian Church and have questions about what this means, please ask me about it. Or better yet, ask one of our members, what it means to them.

If you are not a member, but are ready to make a commitment right now, then meet me at the bottom of the steps as we sing. I will simply ask you to affirm your faith in Jesus Christ, God’s son, Lord and Savior. That’s it. And if you’ve never been baptized, we can talk about baptism, which symbolizes this new life with Christ.

And you will officially be welcomed as a member of Bixby Knolls Christian Church.

And together, we will continue to work on sorting out the mess the world is in as we bring peace and wholeness and joy to all of God’s people.