Sermons

November 18, 2007

Rev. Scott Swanson

25nd after Pentecost - Isaiah 65:17-25; Luke 21: 5-19

Well, we’re nearing the end of another year in the church’s liturgical calendar. Next Sunday – called Reign of Christ Sunday – is the culmination of the church’s year, because it is the culmination of the church’s story. On this penultimate Sunday, we are already future oriented, as both the Hebrew Bible text from Isaiah and the gospel text from Luke treat us to visions of the future.

On the face of it, that is where the similarities end. Isaiah is full of flamboyant hope for a better world. Luke on the other hand speaks of destruction, torment, and even death. Like all texts, these two visions of the future have more to say about the times in which they were written than they do about anything else. They are theological reflections on the present in which they are written more than attempts to predict the future. And part of these theological reflections articulate the belief that, whether positive or negative, the most important thing that the future holds – just as the present moments hold it – is the presence of God with the people. In that sense, these are both texts of hope: hope that no matter what pain or joy the present or future hold, the most important thing they hold is the presence of God. We know this because of our experience of God being faithful in the past. We've been taken care of before, and we'll be taken care of again.

It is easy enough to find things in the present to despair of: devastation in Bangladesh; drought and fires in in US Southwest; war; global warming. The list goes on and on. Earthquakes, fire, famine are all part of our reality. And terrifying things can suggest the end of the world and even make us yearn for it. But they are not signs of the end. The gospel admonishes us not to be obsessed with such matters, much less try to predict them. Don’t borrow tomorrow’s trouble.

Isaiah picks up a theme from the beginning of the book, from chapter 11, when it describes that ideal future: “they shall not hurt or detsroy on all my holy mountain.” John of Patmos picks up the same theme in his Revelation as he reflects on the present circumstances of his own time with language about the future, and people, and God. In a couple of minutes we’re going to sing a hymn by Carolyn McDade that picks up on some themes in the book of Revelation.

I see a new heaven / I see a new earth as the old one will pass away, where the fountain of life flows and without price goes to all people who abide in the land.

The last verse of that hymn goes like this:

There, there where we work with the love of healing hands. Labour we must, true to our trust to build a promised new land.

I don’t think that it is up to us alone, or even primarily, to build a promised new land. That ‘s God’s work which we are called to participate in and be part of.

Often we discover that while we may expect certain things to happen - good or bad - that God's hopes exceed those expectations. Both Isaiah and Luke invite us to act our way into a new way of thinking. So rather than sitting with our head in our hands, struggling to feel hope within us, or struggling to find a theological articulation of heaven which adds up and which we can speak out in words to each other, we begin to live and act as though there is hope. From living, acting, doing as though there is hope, we give birth to it within ourselves, in a way which is actually a journey of faith in the God for whom nothing is impossible.

For more information or to comment on this sermon, please email Rev. Scott Swanson.