It was a ridiculously early quarter-to-six in the morning this week when I was on the subway on my way down to an event called “Bells on Bay Street” at the Royal York Hotel, a gathering for Christians and people seeking to know more about Christ; an invitation to the business community and the community down in the centre of the city to breathe for a moment, take in the music, and the words of inspiration that make the Christmas season so special. Because it was so early, the subway wasn’t very busy, and, now, I do not listen to people’s conversations on the subway – just so you know – but this I could not avoid. Two people were seated side-by-side, and in front of them someone was standing. The two that were seated clearly spoke different languages: one English and the other, I suspect, was either Mandarin or Cantonese. I wish I had Elaine Choi with me to tell me the difference! The person standing was clearly the interpreter. I determined that they were on their way to a medical event, because they were wearing clothing with one of the city’s hospital logos on it. They were deep in animated conversation about research. I couldn’t fathom it. The interpreter occasionally struggled to understand the nuances of the different languages. Nevertheless, it seemed that the interpreter had most of it right, and they were comfortable with each other and enjoying their conversation. It was fascinating to watch – a really classic Toronto scene unfold – two languages, two traditions being interpreted for them both to understand. I was in awe of the process. I hadn’t really seen it develop in quite that way before.
I thought about that, in relation to today’s passage from The Book of Isaiah, which at times, I think needs interpreting. It is of course immortalized in the words of Handel, and it is an integral part of the Messiah: “O comfort me, comfort me, my people!” In the Gospel of Luke, John the Baptist quotes this very passage almost verbatim in Chapter 3, verse 4, and you can see the signs of it in what I preached on last week, which was Zachariah’s song to his son, John the Baptist. This notion of preparedness, of comfort, of something magnificent that is going to happen to change the world. But in our culture they are words that need to be interpreted. They are words that seem very distant from our own experiences. “Voices crying in the wilderness, making a roadway for God, having a Word that lasts forever, withering flowers that fade”, this is hardly the language of normal discourse on a subway or a street corner in Toronto these days, and if you start talking like that people are going to think you are bonkers! So how do we interpret again this magnificent passage from Isaiah?
I think the words of Robert McNeil, one of my favourite journalists of all time, are helpful. He’s a Canadian who became a huge success in the United States, mainly because of the McNeil-Lehrer Report on PBS, but an outstanding Canadian writer, thinker and historian. McNeil has all the credentials of a Canadian: he was born in Nova Scotia, went to Upper Canada College, graduated from Dalhousie and Carleton universities, was the recipient of the Order of Canada, and has honorary degrees from our country. McNeil is one of the great exports of Canada to the United States. He is also a man at the centre of some of the world’s great events, particularly in the United States. He was one of the first to cover the assassination of John F. Kennedy, and it was his reporting that became part of the story of that day. He might have even brushed past, he thought, the person who actually shot JFK. He was there at 9-11, and gave some of the most profound reports from New York City of that horrendous event. He was therefore on the edge of history, and as a Canadian reporting on the edge of history, his voice carries with it a great deal of authority and authenticity. He is also a great writer and has written about English and the usage of words called Wordstruck. His works are fascinating, he says about words the following: “Words make another place, a place to escape with your spirit alone.”
Today, I would like to think that the words of the great prophet Isaiah, are words that create a place for us to go. We have to cast our minds back two thousand, five hundred years to another place to understand their power and importance. To interpret the words of Isaiah, we have to put ourselves in situ in Israel and Babylon. Kathleen O’Connor, who teaches at Columbia Seminary in Georgia, suggests there are four ways we can do this: by understanding the Word as we find it in Isaiah, and the first thing she said is that we need to grasp that these are words primarily of comfort. They are words of comfort because they were heard by people who were feeling futureless. They felt that there was nothing for them, there was no hope. They were written to a people who were living in Babylon, who were exiled, not people who had come home. They felt that God had judged them for their sins, and that Jerusalem was no longer their central place because of their sinfulness and they had received twice the punishment they deserved by being in exile. All they had heard before from the prophets were words of judgement for their sins. So when Isaiah uses words like “Comfort ye, comfort ye my people”, this was a far cry from what they had heard before. They were feeling guilt-ridden, and wondered why this punishment had come upon them, but now they are hearing words of comfort, words of tenderness: God had not forgotten them.
So often when we think of a prophetic word we think that they are harsh. When I use the word “prophet” you immediately think, do you not, a word of judgement, of correction, a word from on high that differentiates between good and evil, and that speaks a course correction. But in these words we have “tenderness” and “comfort”. Lord knows, the people needed to hear that in their agony and sense of hopelessness. Is not “a word of tenderness” equally as prophetic as a word of judgement? I think it is! Are there not times when words of comfort need to be spoken for those who are afflicted? Is there not a word of hope that needs to be given in the midst of the harsh realities of life? All of us would do well to remember that when we are confronted by injustices, or when we see the world tumbling into a futureless realm, maybe a word of comfort is needed, ahead of a word of judgement. From this passage, clearly that was the emphasis.
It was also a word of preparation: “Prepare ye the way of the Lord” is what is being said here. In other words, make a highway for God, let the mountains come down, valleys be raised up, the earth be flat, the road be made – a highway for our God! What is powerful about this is in biblical times, particularly in the times of the Babylonians, the building of roads was for military purposes. The roads were not built so that we could go on vacations or commute to work or the things that we have roads for today. They were built for military reasons; to conquer other places. Roads then, were made for battle, for armies to march, and were often rough. The Babylonians were some of the great road builders, preceding the days of the really great road builders, the Romans. But in metaphorical language, Isaiah is saying, No, that is not the purpose of this road. This is a road from Babylon to Jerusalem. This is a road of return for the people of God, and the Lord will make it straight and save his people from the wilderness so they can return home to Jerusalem and their God.
I never quite fathomed the power of the wilderness and these roads until I actually visited Israel with Marial years ago. There was one day we were driving from Eilat up to Galilee. Eilat is in the south at the Gulf of Aqaba and of course Galilee is in the north, and it was to be a day-long trip by the Dead Sea, up through Jericho and into Galilee. However, an announcement came on from the bus driver, “I am sorry, but we are going to have to turn off. We have been told there is a sandstorm coming, and we are going to Arad.” Arad is in the dessert, not far from what would be known as Babylon. As we got closer, we thought, “Oh, my goodness, this seems a bit over the top! A sandstorm! Is that a big deal – really?” We wondered why we would have to go to a hotel, and change our schedule. We were a bit frustrated, as was everybody on the bus, until we got a few miles from our hotel and realized what had shown up on the radar was real. A sandstorm in the wilderness is terrifying! If we think snow storms are bad, we tough Canadians, we have nothing on sandstorms in the wilderness! You couldn’t see the road. The bus barely crept along. We arrived at the hotel, opened the doors, sand was all over the lobby, every window crack had sand coming through it. You could taste it. Your luggage was covered in it. All we could do, really, because there was nothing to do, was to have a meal, and go to bed. So, we went to bed, and you could hear the wind howling through the windows, and then we heard this very strange sound, sort of a scratching and a banging and a hoinking sound, something we had never heard before. We got up and opened the drapes, and there, right against our window, was a donkey! The donkey was finding shelter against the wall, and the window of our building. This poor donkey was covered in sand! His eyelids were thick with it, but he could see us through the window and I think he wanted to come in, actually. But we were smart enough to know that he was in the right place. He stayed there for the night. When we got up in the morning, the wind had died down, the donkey was still there, covered as he was in sand, but what was remarkable was that when we had come in to the hotel there was no road, but now the wind had blown everything away and all the roads were as clear as you could ever get on a hot, sunny Israel day. It was remarkable!
I think that is what Isaiah had in mind with this road, this road that even in the wilderness would be blown and levelled so that people could find their way back to Jerusalem. This was a God who was opening up the way! That is why John the Baptist, in his great image as a prophet in the wilderness was saying, “Prepare ye the way of the Lord. The Lord is coming, just like he brought Israel from Babylon to Jerusalem, so he is coming in the form of his Son, Jesus, and Jesus will be God’s way for the people to return home.” But this is also, says O’Connor a word about words. I love this thought of her’s. There is a contrast in this passage between everything that withers and fades like the grass and the fields and the Word of God. We are like the grass, we are mortal, we wither and fade, our words don’t last, but the Word of God stands forever. When you think about it, this applies to words as a whole. Words change, their meanings change, and we need sometimes the interpretive power of God’s Spirit and God’s Word to understand even the words that we find in Scripture.
I was reminded of a story that I had heard of the talented Christopher Wren, who in 1675 was commissioned to build the new St. Paul’s Cathedral in London after the great fire. He laid the cornerstone in 1675 and it took thirty-five years to build St. Paul’s. In 1710, after all the challenges that Wren faced, he waited expectantly to hear from the monarch, Queen Anne. No matter what the plaudits were from everyone else, it was Queen Anne’s words that meant the most. She said, “Mr. Wren, this building is awful, it is amusing, and it is artificial!” For us, when we hear that, we think it is a negative review, but in 1710, “awful” meant “awe-inspiring”, “amusing” meant “amazing”, and “artificial” meant “artistic”. It was a huge compliment! Wren was overjoyed! You see, sometimes words are interpreted differently in different times.
We need to understand that what the words of Isaiah are about are not the words per se, but the standing, lasting Word of God. That is what The New Testament writers saw in this passage. When they read it, they understood this was about the Word of God himself. They knew that this was a never changing Word, that this was a Word that was from everlasting to everlasting, and while everything else may wither and fall, where everything else may come and it go, every word that we utter pales in comparison with the incarnate Word of God in Jesus of Nazareth. That is why Handel puts it in The Messiah! It was a word about words, and the Word of God lasts forever. In the midst of all words, texts, e-mails, books, and the talking heads on television, we need to hear and interpret all of this through the Word that stands forever.
There is one last word, as O’Connor says, and she is right. It is the word of good news from a herald. “Good tidings” is the translation we use, but good words, good news, is what the prophet brought to the people who were futureless and worried about their existence and what tomorrow would bring. This God, who brought them through the road from Babylon to Jerusalem and home, would now treat them like a shepherd who holds the lambs in his arms, tenderly, comforting, quieting – beautiful! In the midst of all the harsh words of our world, the untruths and the injustices, the talks of war and violence, the place of Jerusalem in the world, it seems to me we need the tender word of good news. The New Testament writers certainly took this as their parallel. They knew that what they were talking about was Gospel – good news. They were talking about God doing something great and wonderful and unique. God coming in person in Emmanuel; God not at a distance, but God close; God who would hold the world in his hands. As Dietrich Bonheoffer rightly said, “Where do we see the world in God’s hands? We see it on the Cross of a crucified Saviour, who was born in Bethlehem.” It was good news!
Isaiah’s words need to be re-interpreted in our day and age, that we may grasp the power of the good news of which he spoke: A God who speaks tenderly and comfortingly in the midst of judgement; a God who prepares the way when we cannot find it; a God who speaks a word when our words go to the wayside; a God who ultimately comes and brings us Good News. That is the Word that we need to hear as we prepare ourselves for Christmas! Amen.