sermon excerpts: "This Desert Life"

(Isaiah 35: 1-10; Matthew 11: 2-11)

The texts don’t easily lend themselves to the theme of joy. Matthew talks about John the Baptist in jail and the great truth of his ministry, Isaiah’s vision evokes more a sense of hope than it does of actual rejoicing. There is some joy in the wonder of miracles wrought and prophecies fulfilled, questions are asked and lovely images are created, but to find the joy we need to look beneath the surface. And that is a truth that I’d like us to keep in mind: to find true joy, we need to look beneath the surface.

Here, Isaiah makes some bold promises. The land and all creation will bloom and grow, the assurance that the power of life and growth will triumph over any environmental distress. The last minute agreement on climate change at an international conference in Bali this weekend is reason to rejoice and have hope.

Such is the joyful promise of Isaiah. People will be cured, healed, made strong. He upholds the joy is that things will get easier. That is the promise and the hope. But the main focus is the return of the exiled Israelites, journeying on a highway through the wilderness.

It speaks of an actual pathway of safety and protection from Babylon to Jerusalem, but it also serves as a wonderful image for being the church in the world. We often refer to this scripture for the description of a clear path, where everyone will be empowered and enabled to join the journey. We work for a world where all obstacles cleared away so that everyone might know God’s presence and justice. There would be no excuse or roadblock to accepting the invitation to living in a holy and just fashion.

Snowshovelling is something that I grew up with, living in The Snowbelt. I’d have to dig out the sliding doors to the equipment shed so that Dad could get to the tractor-mounted snowblower. The irony of that task was not lost on me. Years later, I had dubious distinction of living at the longest driveway in Arkona that was shoveled out by hand. At least that what it felt like to me.

Yet there was something satisfying about the work. To visibly see the difference you’ve made because of your time and your labour. So one of the first tasks I undertake upon arriving at the church office during the week is to shovel a path to the door. No one may come visit, but I strongly believe that it sends a message of thoughtful welcome and open accessibility to those passing by. And I likened what I was doing to clearing a pathway for people to church. Literally; and as a metaphor in general.

Yet to hear all these wonderful prophecies by Isaiah, they are cause for hope definitely. But joy? Not yet. All these promises had yet to be fulfilled, they all speak of joy in the future.
Even in Matthew as the followers of John the Baptist marvel at the messianic prophecies coming true, it is difficult to rejoice when your leader is in prison awaiting execution. So the scriptures don’t exactly fill us with happiness and bliss; if anything, we have to take our joy with a grain of salt.

This seems to have translated into our Advent life. All the preparation for Christmas is a time of stress and being run ragged, and the joy of the season can be hard to find. As I thought about John the Baptist in the wilderness and early ascetic monks and nuns being established in the desert places, I figured that they’re onto something.

The desert is a place of solitude and quiet, away from the pressuring crowd and the hustle and bustle and busy-ness. And therein was the search for joy. Recognizing that it could not be found in earthly things, but requires time and effort for soul searching, clearing away distraction and focus on the wonder of creation, of our own lives. It would be a place to take care of oneself, to clear everything else out enough so that you can hear your own spirit again.

So the biblical joy may not have arrived yet, and looking around the world today, we can figure that it won’t be coming anytime soon. But we can’t live our lives, waiting for someone or some thing to arrive to bring us joy. To find true joy, we need to look beneath the surface, to uncover the pathway of safety and protection through the wilderness, to clear off the highway justice and righteousness. To find true joy, we need to look beneath the surface, to tend to our inner spiritual life.

And on a day like today, equipped with snow shovels and warm mitts, we work to make a clear pathway in our world and in our lives, and send message of care and welcome when we do so.