Beware False Comfort Second Sunday Of Advent December 7, 2008

(First, read the passages for this sermon: Isaiah 40:1-11 and Mark 1:1-8)

The prophet speaks:

Comfort, O comfort my people,
says your God.

Doesn’t that sound wonderful? After the hassle of a Christmas shopping trip to the Prime Outlets, winding around for 15 minutes trying to find a parking place, and then elbowing other shoppers out of the way to get to the items you want, the prophet is describing the comfort of finally being able to plop down in the La-Z-Boy with a cup of hot chocolate, right?

Well, of course not!

In fact: beware false comfort. That’s the comfort of that soothing, Manhattan Transfer Christmas CD that you listen to at this time of year, hoping that that smooth-jazz will cover up the profound discomfort. You know what that is, don’t you? I’m talking about those stubborn fears and anxieties and grief that cause discomfort, and cannot be covered up – no matter how much money you spend, or how many cookies you bake, or how hard you work to try to make this “the best Christmas ever.”

You know what I mean, right? Then you know about your own experiences in the wilderness, to use the metaphor in this morning’s readings.

But look! In the wilderness, we encounter God! That’s where God’s voice is making itself heard, in this morning’s reading from Isaiah, which is then quoted by the gospel writer of Mark, to tie in John the baptizer. John is out there in the wilderness, too.

Remember what we hear from Isaiah:

A voice cries out:
"In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”

And where is John the baptizer? John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.

Here’s the thing. The wilderness is a frightening place. The wilderness is where we’re out of control, where we can’t cover u our fears and anxieties and grief. You know what that’s like, right?

Let me tell a funny story. Years ago, I planned a Confirmation retreat. The only weekend that was available at the retreat center was the weekend of Halloween. And the kids were very upset that they wouldn’t be able to be at home, and at Halloween parties with their friends. So I promised them we’d have fun with the occasion.

I went to the library and got a scary movie. Actually, it was kind of disappointing, because it wasn’t really very scary. But I watched the movie the afternoon before we went on the retreat, and learned where all the supposedly-scary scenes occurred. So, that night, when we turned off all the lights in the cabin to watch the movie, whenever something was about to happen on the screen, I was able to scream, “AHHHH!!!” – which made all the kids jump a foot. (That made it a much better movie.)

And then we went out to the cemetery. (You see, driving through the woods to the retreat center, I had noticed a small cemetery about a quarter mile down the narrow country road.) Boy was it dark after we finished watching the movie! As we made our way down the road, these previously-very cool 13 and 14 year-olds were clinging to each other. One boy literally buried his face in the back of my sweatshirt as we walked along, balling up the sweatshirt fabric in his fists. (Have no fear. There was no lasting damage. He grew up to be six-foot-four, and, believe it or not, became a forest ranger!)

What is wilderness for you? What is it that causes you to hide your face in someone else’s sweatshirt?

I remember one woman who was frightened into immobility by the wilderness. She refused to talk about what she was feeling following the death of her husband. “If I talk about it, it’s just too painful,” she said. She tried to pretend that she was not in wilderness. She tried to cover up what was there. Will that work for her, do you think?

The prophet speaks:

Comfort, O comfort my people,
says your God.

And that sounds a theme of Advent: the comfort from God that we long for, that we hope for.

But I do not think you and I can be open to anything deeper than false comfort –unless we are eyes-wide-open during our experiences of wilderness.

For God’s people who were hearing the prophet Isaiah approximately 2,600 years ago, the wilderness was their destruction as a nation, their scattering, their exile at the hands of the Babylonians. The Babylonians had even demolished the temple in Jerusalem. That meant that all of the people’s assumptions – of where God was present, and how they were to worship God, and whether God would protect them – all of those religious underpinnings were in ruins, too. The people were in wilderness. They were starting from absolute scratch.

Where does the prophet promise that God will enter? It is precisely into that wilderness:

A voice cries out:
"In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be lifted up,
and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
and the rough places a plain.
Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
and all people shall see it together,
for the mouth of the Lord has spoken."

And then, later in these verses, we read this tender description:

[The Lord] will feed his flock like a shepherd;
he will gather the lambs in his arms,
and carry them in his bosom,
and gently lead the mother sheep.

This is no false comfort. This is the comfort of encountering God in the most frightening, the most out-of-control aspects of life; and depending upon God, as a lamb does in the arms of a shepherd.

Where are those wilderness places for you? When you’ve been in an ICU bed – or in the chair next to the ICU bed? When you’ve been dealing with chronic pain? When you’ve been meeting with the funeral director? When you’ve been under fire on the battlefield? When you’ve been watching your retirement savings? When you’ve been sitting in the courtroom with your son?

Are you in wilderness this morning?

It is striking to notice, in the verses we read from Mark, that John the baptizer is out in the wilderness. He is far away from the city. That is where life is ordered and civilized and governed. In fact, John the baptizer is kind of a scary figure! But what do the people do? We read, And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. There’s a hunger here. They are all drawn out into the wilderness.

So, too, for you and me. There come those times when we simply cannot cover up with false comfort those stubborn fears and anxieties and grief. Then God the Holy Spirit has an opportunity to come into our flesh and blood with the true comfort of the Word made flesh.

Could these weeks of Advent be an opportunity for you to be honest about those fears and anxieties and grief in your lives? Indeed, I wonder if an image of the church is in that description I gave of those 13 and 14-year olds, making their way out to the cemetery in the utterly dark woods: that we are clinging to each other, not letting go of each other – entering into the wilderness to encounter God.

Remember that Advent is not ultimately about the coming of sweet little Jesus boy. The importance of Advent is not found in the cyclical, annual repetition of Christmas. Since God has come into our human flesh through Jesus the Christ, this season of Advent is about being on the watch for the coming of God’s ultimate fulfillment to history. When you and I are in the wilderness, we know our need for that fulfillment.

And so, God the Holy Spirit uses Advent to invite us to be transformed – to receive a celebration of Christmas that will draw us into the true comfort of the incarnation, of God in our human flesh. Nothing covered up. Every need and desire and longing honestly named.

In the name of God, who is Father and Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Pastor Andy Ballentine
St. Stephen Lutheran Church
Williamsburg, Virginia