Advent One: Come On Down!

 

Isaiah 64:1-9
64:1 O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence--

64:2 as when fire kindles brushwood and the fire causes water to boil-- to make your name known to your adversaries, so that the nations might tremble at your presence!

64:3 When you did awesome deeds that we did not expect, you came down, the mountains quaked at your presence.

64:4 From ages past no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who works for those who wait for him.

64:5 You meet those who gladly do right, those who remember you in your ways. But you were angry, and we sinned; because you hid yourself we transgressed.

64:6 We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a filthy cloth. We all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away.

64:7 There is no one who calls on your name, or attempts to take hold of you; for you have hidden your face from us, and have delivered us into the hand of our iniquity.

64:8 Yet, O LORD, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.

64:9 Do not be exceedingly angry, O LORD, and do not remember iniquity forever. Now consider, we are all your people. 

 

When I was a kid, being “sick” often meant a “day off” from school, and a full day in front of the pumpkin-shaped screen of our “first in the neighborhood” color TV that was just slightly smaller than the U.S.S. Nimitz. Most of the time, my sickness was a bout of asthma, something I lived with until mostly outgrowing it in later years. My registered nurse Mom would allow me to stay home when it kicked up a bit, especially if it was a “gym day,” as only a doctor’s excuse would get you out of that horror. (For us bookworms and science project freaks, gym was a sentence, not an opportunity.) Plopped and propped in front of the RCA Great Pumpkin, my program of choice were the gameshows, “Let’s Make a Deal,” with Monty Hall, and “The Price Is Right,” with Bill Cullen. Both of these show names would make good sermons, wouldn’t they? “Let’s Make a Deal” could be an exploration of the weird, custom-made theologies propagated by a host of TV evangelists, which have, in turn, spurred an even larger palette of personalized theologies adopted by self-centered, “I did it MY way” Americans. OR, it could be God, saying to humanity, “This isn’t working—let’s try a whole new deal.” “The Price is Right” could be an exposition of the sacrifice of Christ meant to free humanity from both the curse of sin, AND its stigma. OR, it could be a stewardship sermon? If you decide to preach one of these, or if you hear one from YOUR preacher, you’re welcome.

 

Where was I going with that rabbit trail? Oh yeah, when “The Price Is Right” was revamped in 1972, announcer Johnny Olsen began shouting the phrase, “Come on down!” when he invited contestants to the front of the stage to “compete.” I thought of that famous catch-phrase when I read this week’s Advent One passage from Trito-Isaiah: “ O that you would tear open the heavens and come down…” 

 

The seminary word, incarnation, describes the “Word became flesh and tented among us” doctrine of the Christian faith. Our belief that God became human and “lived” among humans is not unusual among religious myths. That God—the incarnate Son of God—“emptied himself” of the “privileges” of being divine and came among humans, yet maintained both his divinity AND took on the full human experience, is. This understanding of Jesus has caused him to be labeled a “star-child” by some, an “adopted” son, by others. In true Christian apologetic parlance, Jesus as “fully God” and “fully Man” (called the Extra-Calvinisticum in Reformed theology) is a belief that cannot be proved, but is an essential tenet of the faith. While there are some conservatives who overly emphasize the “divinity” of Jesus, and liberals who do the same with his humanity, the idea of Christ as embracing both “worlds” is at the center of our faith. In short, God DID come down, but not after tearing open the heavens and coming in the spirit of judge and jury against the evils and power politics of the prevailing human race in the first century. Many were not happy with a grace-offering, forgiving Savior. There are those who believe that Judas did what Judas did because he believed Jesus was the Son of God, and his little thirty-pieces-of-silver schtick would force Jesus’ hand to THEN “tear open the heavens” to judge the Roman and religious powerbrokers who were making Christians—and many Jews--dead, or at least miserable. Judas was possibly the first contestant on “Let’s Make a Deal.” Certainly, for him, the price was right.

 

First century Christians could not comprehend the historical breadth of the message of redemption and reconciliation Jesus brought, along with his human “emptiness.” You are reading this sermon today because of the eternal as well as ongoing consequences of this mission, articulated and launched by the incarnate Son of God. First century folk wanted a vindictive, liberating powerbroker in their corner, for a change. When Jesus proved to be a child-embracing, slinky slider away from controversy, “lamb of God,” they were disillusioned, at best. Only those who flocked to his magic and miracle healings were fans, for the large part. The disenchanted joined the mobs later calling for his crucifixion. 

 

The prophet Third Isaiah wanted to see Israel restored after the exile, and wanted those who had persecuted and cast them forth from their homeland, vanquished. We can certainly understand this, in light of their rugged and pogrom-filled past, and even in light of modern manifestations like the Holocaust, or even the most recent terroristic assault at the hands of Hamas. (I’ll not wade into the political controversies over current events in Palestine, but to negatively paraphrase a former President whom I DON’T admire, “There are BAD people on both sides.”) We can hardly blame them. But the Prophet does, in this passage. In spite of the injustices visited against them, their own sins were still what got them banished, and Third Isaiah seems to be pleading to God on their behalf. God forgave; Israel returned to Zion. Again, and again, and again, on all counts. Are we any different, in our own spiritual exiles?

 

And are we any different in wanting vengeance, first, against those whom we feel are “persecuting” us? Instead of modeling the grace-granting Savior, WAY too many modern Christians LOVE to talk about his “second coming,” believing that this time it’s “no more Mr. Nice Guy.” Where do we get this idea that we will be on the horses riding behind Jesus when he DOES return? And we will get to watch the “Judgment Seat” scene as spectators, rather than with the accused? Thankfully, this is all a tale of apocalyptic literature, and probably not as accurate a picture of what will unfold as what Isaiah foretold in his day. Why are we so sure, as Christians, of our own “blamelessness” and innocence in the injustices and “sin” of our day? And why do we feel we have a “right” to promote a street rumble with Jesus against our “enemies”? Maybe it’s time to pull out that old chestnut, “There, but for the grace of God, go I”? Or WE. 

 

Advent is a time to turn over a new leaf in the church—the “New Year” of the church year. It is a time of looking forward to the “end of the age,” but not because it will bring the street fight, but the “lion lying down with the lamb.” As Isaiah mellows his desire for the heavens to be torn open and God to “Come On Down!” to fix things, so Advent invokes what should be our joy in welcoming back Jesus, but as the Prince of Peace, not the Marvel Avenger. Isaiah invokes the “God is the potter, we are the clay” allegory as a way of reminding Israel that God is the ultimate agenda setter, albeit one who has given humanity the freedom of will to follow God’s lead OR to chart our own path, which may lead us to vindictiveness rather than valor in victory over hate. Potters don’t force the clay, or they never get the vessel to form. Clay that resists the sensitive, guiding hands of the potter must eventually be discarded in favor of softer clay. Isaiah knew this, Israel has learned it over and over again, down through the ages, and the “new” Christian church seems to be ignoring the lesson, especially when we believe “Jesus is coming” is a rallying cry for a “final solution” to our personal suffering, rather than a balm to save and salve all of humanity. 

 

“Come on down!” is not an invitation for Christ to do OUR bidding, this time. We should be just as fearful of his “second coming” as Herod was his first. Jesus is out to set things right—to give “the clay” another chance to right injustices and sue for peace. Advent One is when we light a candle for HOPE, not a fire to “burn it all down,” friends. It’s not a time for “Let’s Make a Deal” with God, either. God has given us all the ultimate “deal”—redemption from sin and reconciliation with Godself, ourselves, others, and all of creation. “Come on down!” Amen.