Jack McKinney
Pullen Memorial Baptist Church
December 2, 2007 – First Sunday of Advent
Text: Isaiah 2:1-5
Vision Quest
Life is full of beautiful things. Some of those things are lovely but shallow, like the beauty pageant contestant who became infamous for answering the question, “Why can’t 20% of Americans find the U.S. on a map?” by saying we don’t have enough maps and we need to help the South Africans and Iraqis so that it will better our future. World renowned scholars in logic are still trying to decipher that one.
Popular music also tends to blend the beautiful with the vacuous. Sometimes I will hear a song on the radio with a gorgeous melody and inspiring rhythm, but when I listen carefully to the lyrics it is often some combination of two words: love and baby. Now I’m all for love and babies, but there are just so many repetitions of “loving my baby” I can take before the pretty music seems somewhat less lovely. And before you older folks nod too aggressively, remember you are the generation that popularized “Louie, Louie,” a song so relentlessly inane that people are still trying to make sense of it.
But then there are other beautiful things that are powerful and enduring. Things that continue to stir our imagination and capture our heart. Grandfather Mountain, the recent Monet exhibit, and many of James Taylor’s songs are just a few examples of lasting beauty from our neck of the woods.
This morning we have heard beautiful words that have survived the test of time. The book of Isaiah is a masterpiece of sacred scripture. Victor Hugo considered Isaiah one of the six greatest pieces of literature ever written. The poetry in the text we have heard in chapter two is exquisite. The writer creates an image of Jerusalem, not as it is in reality, but as it is in the poet’s mind: a place lifted higher than every mountain, with all peoples of the world streaming to it to find justice. And, in the end, the glorious vision of swords beaten into ploughshares and spears into pruning hooks with the culminating line: “nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.” Words so beautiful and meaningful that we still sigh no matter how many times we have heard them.
There is a danger, however, in hearing or observing or handling something of incomparable beauty. Such an item can feel almost foreign, beyond our reach, and so we marvel at it from a distance. And while such an approach is appropriate when visiting the art museum, it just won’t do in church. The words of the prophet Isaiah were not written merely for our admiration; they were written to give us hope. And to call us to keep moving toward the sacred vision that is contained in this text.
And what is the heart of the divine vision found in Isaiah 2? Oh, just a few simple things: universal cooperation, ultimate justice, and the end to warfare. Is that all, you say? And what will we do after lunch?
But before we let reality take over and dismiss the poetic vision as nothing more than pretty words, let me ask you a question. What are we doing here this morning? Why are we in church? Surely this place is more than committee meetings and potluck suppers. And as important as the relationships are that we form in this place, and the social connections that are established here, surely church is more than a community center. This is the place we come to find a vision for what could be and should be. We want something more than what the world offers us, something deeper, something hopeful. That’s why we come to church and that’s why church, as strange and faulty of an institution as it is, still has relevance.
So back to Isaiah’s beautiful but hopelessly idealistic vision. What shall we say about these things and how they relate to our life in the church? Well, the first part of the vision has all nations of the world streaming to the mountain of God. This kind of universal cooperation seems impossible in our world where nations spend billions to build fences to separate themselves from other nations. But I’ll tell you something. I grew up in a culture where racial tension was constant. My hometown was predominantly Latino, but the white people controlled everything. And that was normal in my world. But you know where I learned to question such thinking? In church. If you keep teaching little kids songs like “red and yellow, black and white, they’re all precious in God’s sight” they might just start to believe it. And if you send youth to other countries and let them interact with people from different cultures, they might just figure out that it’s not “one nation under God,” but “all nations under God.” The powers that control our world may think Isaiah’s universal vision is nonsense and dangerous, but in church we believe it is what God wants. So we teach this vision to our kids, and we go on trips to Cuba and Africa, and before you know it you are opening the doors of your church to people of all races, all sexual orientations and gender identities, and all religious backgrounds. Because you start to believe that Isaiah’s vision of all people streaming to the mount of God is a good thing, and it’s possible, and if it can’t happen in church where else can it happen? So in a few minutes we will be streaming forward to receive the bread and cup that symbolize God’s love, all kinds of people with all kinds of differences, and it’s a good thing. No, it’s a great thing. It’s a God thing.
And then we come to the end of Isaiah’s vision, the peaceful part, where swords become ploughshares and spears pruning hooks. I guess the smart aleck question is how do you beat a smart bomb into a ploughshare, but that’s not really the point is it? The point is that the sacred vision calls for an end to warfare as a way of solving disputes. And this perspective is the one that has always been the most difficult for people who are both citizens of a country with armies and borders, and also citizens of the peaceable kingdom. How do we reconcile our nation’s call for a common defense and Jesus’ call to love our enemies? Christians have responded to that dilemma in different ways throughout history. Some have refused to serve in the military because of their faith; others have reluctantly answered their nation’s call, but always struggled with the paradox between what their country asked them to do and what their faith called them to do. And, of course, many Christians have served in the military and seen no paradox whatsoever between their faith and their service. In our pews this morning are people who reflect each of those perspectives and I imagine as long as this church exists we will have people who represent those three different views of military service.
What do we want to teach as a church, though, about this message of not learning war any more? What is our vision that we want to put forth for our children who must eventually wrestle with this ultimate question? When it comes to that things are more clear for me. If we are people who take our faith tradition seriously, if we believe Isaiah’s vision is sacred and Jesus’ teachings are true, we have little choice. We teach peace, and we work for peace, and we model peace. We stop trusting the myth of redemptive violence, as Walter Wink has taught us, and start risking a new way. And for most people that sounds like silliness, even dangerous naïveté, but that’s what makes the church different. We are not a branch of the United States government or an affiliate of a political party. We are not the VFW or the USO. We are the church of Jesus Christ. We follow the teachings of a man who chose death over violent retaliation. We may not be comfortable with that, and we may ultimately disagree with that message, but it is who we are.
In the midst of Isaiah’s beautiful words come these incredibly difficult challenges. Maybe that is why it is easier for us to admire the beauty of the poetry than follow what those words call us to do. But make no mistake; there is a call in these words. The final verse of our text this morning concludes the vision with this simple invitation: “Come, let us walk in the light.” In a world filled with the darkness of conflict, separation, and violence, we are allowed to see another way. A way filled with light. But we have to do something. We have to walk in that light And we do that simply by accepting and loving all people and living in peace with them. And that, my friends, is the most beautiful thing of all.