Readings: Isaiah 2:1-5, Matthew 24:36-44
Let us pray
May your word for us be revealed O God and
may we hear with eager hearts and receptive minds all that you reveal to
us. Amen
‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of the
Lord....’[1]
Much of the imagery of the Bible relates to
a land and a way of life that is far distant from our own experiences here in
New Zealand. A land that is dry and
dusty, relatively treeless and had occasional waterways, a people confined and
defined by thousands of years of history and the capability of their land to
sustain them, of simple shepherds and kings and ancient walls and lepers kept
outside those walls. But somehow when I
read this verse – let us go up to the mountain – I immediately connect – it’s
something many people here can totally relate to - as we look out to the
Southern Alps especially. Some of you
have even been there, know the indescribable moment of standing on the mountain
and just being.
But more than this: we are pretty much a people that expect to be
able to go to the mountain , or the hill or sea or lake, if we want – to seek
experiences from our land that are spiritual, life changing. Many of us have a strong link with land, nature,
water, wildlife, weather. There was a
time when I was working long hours in Christchurch, travelling on the bus in
and back from Rangiora, not doing a lot when I got home and was feeling pretty
yuk! Then one day I got myself out of my
office, went for a walk and ended up sitting on the banks of the Avon River,
touching and smelling and hearing the water and realised that I had not been
near river, stream or sea for too long – I was
spiritually parched, you might say.
This was also something we talked
about at movie night on Thursday as we watched a Christmas Story set in
Finland– the way the land, the weather, (both pretty harsh much of the time)
and the glory of the skies in this isolated small settlement, shaped and
impacted and yet fed the yearnings of the people who lived there.
In the bible we find the stories of going
up to the mountain associated with vision and clear and profound transformation
– the transfiguration of Jesus, Moses receiving God’s word, the sacrifice of
Isaac, among others.
And here, in the reading today, Isaiah uses
the image of the mountain to call the people to a new vision, a place of
startling transformation, a place that will fill the yearning of the heart so
completely as to change the very essence of how we live and experience
life. Those who come to the mountain
will see a vision of a new world, where justice rules, where inequities will be
balanced, shackles loosed, wrongs set right.
Swords will be made into ploughshares and spears into pruning
hooks. Unimaginable peace was being
preached on the mountain and those who heard were filled with the vision and
the hope that the world might be so.
There is however another ‘mountain’ moment
in scripture – one that stands separate and yet which holds all things
together, and that is the birth of the Christ child. Swords into ploughshares becomes almost
possible against the thought that a baby born in a stable could be the long
awaited messiah, come to bring hope and reconciliation to this world. And what a vision for the world he came to
share - and not just the vision – he
taught us the ways of that vision, filled
us with the transformational power of the vision and commissioned us to
go into the world as living examples of that vision to realise peace and equity
and justice.
It can seem to us, especially at this time
of year, that our vision gets confused, or perhaps gets fused with some of the
rather more cultural, or economic visions that are part of what is now a fairly
secular Christmas time. And so things that we thought we were doing for the
right reasons somehow get a bit warped.
I see headlines about how to plan for the financial blowout, with no
hint of suggested restraint, I hear plans for family gatherings that will be
fraught with difficulties and tensions, I know of frenzied perfectionist
catering that leaves people exhausted and we all know of the commercial santa
saturation that seems to drive the very soul out of the season.
Maybe its time to recover within those
traditions of our Christmas that which we identified with as our vision on the
mountaintop. What are the yearnings that
drive us and inspire us as Christians and how are they spoken out over this
Advent time.
First of all – think how we try so hard to
make this a magical time for children, how we remember and reminisce about the
ways we experienced Christmas as children – where we believed the unbelievable
and trusted in that. Maybe we have a bit
too much of what I once heard called ‘serious training’ as adults and have lost
the ability to live enthusiastically in that which seems impossible to us. Swords into ploughshares – yeah right – never
in my lifetime. Living in hope of that
which we can’t quite imagine – is that not the faith journey we are called to?
And when we give gifts - can we remember it’s not about bigger and
better and more expensive but it is totally about the joy of gifting and
receiving gifts – the heart that has gone into a gift and the pleasure of
someone else’s appreciation of that.
That selfless giving is possible – why not in all things?
Our coming together as family at Christmas
time – or connecting in some way even when we can’t be physically there is
incredibly important. We don’t like
division and separation at Christmas and does this reflect a deeper yearning
for loving relationship and for division to be no more. Peace, goodwill to all people, every
day? A vision that we can glimpse at
Christmas and need to hold on to for every day?
And the acts of hospitality at Christmas
time – of food and welcome and drawing in the stranger and singing carols to
the housebound and having lots of celebrations of who we are together. It would be interesting to go round here and
see how many Christmas ‘dos’ some of you are going to in the next few
weeks. Gosh we even do it as a Parish
Council in December – and that is great – but where do we hold the vision of
hospitality throughout the rest of the year.
And I don’t mean groaning tables every weekend – but rather can you not
vision a world where it was the ordinary to invite in the stranger, to
celebrate who we are as family, to join together round the table and laugh and
share and be one with each other, no matter who you might be.
Isn’t this the vision from the mountain
top? Not a 52 week Christmas season –
that would drive us all spare in weeks -
but an everyday vision of gracious generous gifting and receiving, of
living believing in the hope of the seemingly impossible, that which the world
scoffs at, of healing division and gathering all in loving relationship no matter
who they are, and of gathering about the table together in the incredibly
healing act of sharing hospitality because all are important, all are welcome
at the mountain top that is Jesus Christ.
And as we gather around this table today let us remember that in this
act we are coming together as one people, all equally welcomes and all the
beloved of God – a God who says to us each day: ‘come let us go up to the
mountain...come let us walk in the light of the Lord. Amen.
Margaret Garland
No comments:
Post a Comment