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The word advent literally means “coming” or “arrival.”
As a Christian season, different nuances have waxed and waned through the
centuries. At different junctures and in different traditions, the judgment
of God, and an accompanying Lent-like introspection, has been emphasized,
with sin and repentance being at the forefront. At other points and in other
contexts, the more vibrant themes of hope, peace, joy, and love have been
the focus. While we should be reminded of the need for faithfulness and holiness
throughout the year in light of God’s coming justice, and while the positive
“fruits” of salvation are also always pertinent to a growing life
in Christ, the season of Advent should be unique in its intentional juxtaposition
of the past and the future. We have tasted and seen that the Lord is good,
through God’s self-giving love, evidenced in the incarnation, crucifixion
and resurrection. But one day, beginning at the “Day of the Lord”
we will feast in God’s presence, and that eternally. How will we live
in the mean time, in the in between time of the two advents of Jesus Christ?
This is the key question of Advent. As important as they are, there is more
to do than celebrate a past historical event or anticipate a future not yet
fulfilled. There is the “eternal now” that beckons our response.
The one who calls us, and who will be faithful to complete the work in us,
is worthy of our entire devotion and love in the here and now.
Isaiah is obviously one of the most important prophetic books
in the Old Testament. Yet its authorship is debated. Certainly Isaiah is its
author; the question is whether or not he is the only author of the entire
book. There are those who see his sole authorship as crucial validation for
its rightful place as a prophetic book. In other words, its being written
during Isaiah’s lifetime alone gives credence to its ability to foretell
certain events, for there are events in Isaiah that occur a few hundred years
after his lifetime. If Isaiah was correct on these historical events, then
the Messianic visions can be trusted, some argue. Other scholars embrace the
theory that Isaiah developed around him a community that continued to add
material in the spirit of Isaiah’s teaching for another two hundred years.
As the history of God’s chosen people unfolded, the themes of judgment,
grace, and repentance were always relevant. But analysis of the internal evidence,
as well as a timeline of external historical events, point to three distinct
sections in Isaiah; recent scholarship has emphasized this historical progression,
spanning centuries. What concerns us the most is that the theology of Isaiah
is nuanced but consistent, regardless of the possibility of multiple contributors
writing during different periods of captivity and freedom under different
empires.
And yet we come to the passage before us in chapter two and
find it floating almost in mid-air. Some scholars generally agree that it
is most likely an anonymous author penned this poem and added it later. This
is one explanation as to why the same text is found in the fourth chapter
of Micah. Of course the source could be Isaiah himself, from whom Micah borrowed.
In either case, the use of this passage in two different places in the prophetic
books speaks to its worth, perhaps even its familiarity among the people,
certainly to its theological value.
The case for its addition is supported by its distinctive tone
compared to the passages surrounding it. Chapter one (and the verses following
our text in chapter two) have to do with God’s judgment of the rebellious
nation. Isaiah 2:1-5 has a very different tone and a very different message.
It is a message of hope that one day, “in the last days” relationships
in particular, under God’s reign, will be very different indeed. In Christian
interpretation it is appropriate to see this hope fulfilled in three places:
the restoration of Judah after various captivities; the coming of the Messiah
into the world 2000 years ago; and the future return of Jesus Christ, in the
second coming.
In this Old Testament passage, we can see the author’s
vision of a new day. On one hand, it is appropriate to see that a new thing
happened in the incarnation of Jesus. In the new covenant we participate in
a new reality. God remains faithful to his people, but the means of salvation
shift from an emulated memory of the faith of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to
faith in a person, Jesus, who is able to forgive sins, but also to transform
the heart from within. It is a new type of reconciliation with God, which
manifests itself in reconciliation with others. It is therefore more than
appropriate to see the hope of which the author speaks fulfilled in the incarnation,
ministry, and sacrifice of Christ. He is the second Adam who forms us into
new creations.
And yet, we live with the tension of what some theologians call,
“the already, but not yet.” In other words, we have indeed experienced
the salvation of God in Christ as we grow in faith, trust, holiness and love.
We would even say that full salvation is very much a present possibility and
reality. On the other hand, we wait for its culmination as we anticipate a
radical newness not yet experienced. As Christians, we believe that the second
advent of Jesus Christ is the means by which an even more pervasive newness
will appear.
One of the primary characteristics of this coming day (or age)
is that there will be overarching peace and unity that affects all people.
The author envisions that the Lord will establish a “holy temple”
where God will be worshipped by “all nations.” God will be the one
to settle any disputes among various peoples. “They will beat their swords
into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take
up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore,” (vs. 4).
The Church is called to this type of unity, but has failed again and again.
And we know from Christian history, that the Church has even been the aggressor
at times, even killing, raping, pillaging “in the name of Christ.”
(e.g., the Crusades). We certainly do not want to repeat such horrific atrocities.
Some Christians call for complete pacifism as the means of peacemaking. What
is the appropriate response to war, injustice, prejudice, or blind nationalism
in this day and age?
The relevant question presented to us in the here and now is
whether we are, in any way, fulfilling God’s expectation that God’s
people be peacemakers. (See Matthew 5:9). Do we simply resign ourselves to
the warring condition of the world, and wait for God to break in one day and
end the bloodshed? Do we disengage from the world, believing that we can make
no difference? Do we see our situation only as doom and gloom, from which
there is no escape, certainly no potential for real change? What is our responsibility
as persons who have already, but not yet participated in God’s Kingdom
of peace and unity? The history of the Holiness Movement evidences a very
different approach than disengagement. Holiness folk in the 19th and early
20th centuries were right in the middle of causes for the poor, the slaves,
women, and anyone oppressed. They were thoroughly optimistic about the potential
for change. Today, do we carry swords, or plowshares? Spears or pruning hooks?
How does the world see us? As lovers or haters? As peacemakers or “warriors
for God”?
(For the full manuscript
of this sermon go to www.preachermagazine.org and click on “Sermons”)
It is too easy when preaching from the Prophets to begin our
own speculation about end time events, finding futuristic meaning line by
line. This is a dangerous homiletical approach, to say the least. Our preaching
should always be about the theological message of the text, the unifying themes
that connect the past with the present. However, in the context of Advent,
it is appropriate to speak of the future and the second coming of Christ.
Thus we must approach these verses with humility, while at the same time boldly
proclaiming the nature of the coming Kingdom, a Kingdom in which we participate
even now.
A sermon on this passage could remind the congregation of the
radical changes that took place in the first Advent of Christ. God did something
radically new in putting on humanity, becoming the God-Man, in the form of
an infant. God did something radically new in saving the world, not by some
triumphant glorification of this man, but in his willing suffering and his
dying in absolute humiliation. God did something radically new in the Resurrection
and Ascension, and certainly at Pentecost. All of these events make us new
creations, where the old has passed away and the new has come.
Secondly, it could speak of our hope for the second Advent,
when all that Jesus Christ’s ministry on earth began, will come to completion;
hope for the time when our present suffering and pain will end, when tears
and dying will be no more; hope for a time when all peoples will worship God
in peace and unity and bloodshed will cease; hope for eternal, everlasting
life with God.
Finally, the sermon could end with teasing out the question:
what do we do in the time between the advents? How do we live most obediently
and lovingly in this place of already, but not yet? “Come, O house of
Jacob, let us walk in the light of the Lord,” (vs. 5). What does it mean
to really walk in the light as the people of God? What do we do in the meantime?