As I was reading the lessons for today, I was brought back to my Hebrew class from my last year of Seminary. It may not surprise many of you that I took Hebrew every year of Seminary, even though it wasn’t required, just for the fun of it. And, because it wasn’t required, it meant our class size hovered between 3 and 6 people each semester. One benefit of the class size was that we could get up to more shenanigans… I’m sure that’s not surprising to many of you by now either. This reading brought me back to the time when we were translating the Advent Isaiah readings, and two of my classmates took it upon themselves to construct a stick version of this sprout image from Isaiah, with a sprout coming from its head and the belts of faithfulness and righteousness fastened around it. It was quite a sight to behold! I even vaguely remember them giving this stick sprout creature a name, but I unfortunately cannot remember that now. But, I cannot unsee that literal stick figure now every time I hear this reading.
So while I tell this story to highlight the creative endeavors nerdy Seminarians pursue in their free time, I also want it to bring some levity to today’s readings. There is joy and hope to be found, both within the Isaiah reading and the Gospel reading, that can be so easily overshadowed by the fiery language that concludes the Gospel. But, God is up to so much more than just purifying fire; God is doing a new thing.
The hope in today readings lies not just in what God has done, but also in what God is doing now and what God is going to continue to do in the future. The Isaiah reading, like much of the other readings from the first book of Isaiah, before the Israelites were exiled to Babylon, was one of radical hope. That the ways of the world would change; that all of creation would follow God’s will because that isn’t what society was like then. It is a story that depicts the completion of what God had already made good in Genesis 1 and 2. It is a story of recreation, of reordering and reorienting the world.
Isaiah includes this unimaginable tale of predators and prey laying down beside each other. Of lions eating straw like the oxen do. Of babies playing around the homes of snakes and not being bitten. I know I don’t have kids, but I can’t imagine that any parent in this room would think it’s a good idea to let your kids go play with deadly snakes and trust that they would be okay. Maybe that’s just my fear of snakes talking, but I find that a bit unlikely! This Isaiah reading predicts a radical reshaping of not only the world, but also the nature of creation. All of these animals would have to change how they interact with the world. The predators would have to not attack the prey, and the prey would have to trust that the predators are not going to attack them. This isn’t just a small change, but a drastic change of nature and purpose in the world.
This is why the Gospel from Matthew is hopeful too, even with, or maybe especially with the fiery language. I don’t think that John the Baptizer is intending it as a threat, but it is a reminder to those who are being baptized because they think it’s what they should be doing, that this baptism by water, and especially the one by the Holy Spirit, are not just labels or titles that can be put on when it is convenient. We are baptized into a way of life, a way of relating to God and the world; it isn’t just something we do for the status or for “insurance,” so to speak. When we are baptized, we are baptized into this hope of Isaiah, of this world-transforming life and future that could be possible. But, we don’t get to that point without some major changes along the way. One could argue that our baptism changes our nature too, as well as our purpose in the world.
As many of you know by now, I often get a song stuck in my head that feels like it fits with the reading for the week; sometimes it’s a hymn, other times it’s not. But, ever since preparing for Wednesday worship this past week, I have had the hymn “All Earth is Hopeful” stuck in my head, specifically the first verse: “All earth is hopeful, the Savior comes at last! Furrows lie open for God’s creative task: this, the labor of people who struggle to see how God’s truth and justice set ev’rybody free.”[1] I love this hymn for these readings because it connects us back to the creative actions of God in Genesis 1 and 2, as well as God’s continuing action of creating and shaping the world in which we live. The world is open and waiting for what God is going to do next; that is some beautiful and hopeful imagery!
Additionally, I think it speaks to the struggles of the people in Israelite society to which the prophet spoke a word of hope today. Because, the Israelite society was not like these prophets words, instead it was split between the poor majority and the wealthy elite who controlled everything. It was a society riddled with injustice and inequity; this word of Isaiah is a word of hope for them and for us. And, I love that this hymn says “all earth is hopeful,” not just all people. Because I think it connects to all the ways the animals lives change when earth is ruled according to God’s will, as explained in Isaiah. The relationships between animals change, but so does the relationship between humans and animals. No longer is there enmity between serpents and humans, no longer this punishment upon creation.
So, John the Baptizer is inviting people into a way of life, into a changing of their ways. It makes sense to me that he would want to prepare them because this isn’t something that people took lightly. This was not something to do just because it was cool or what everybody else was doing. So, John stood guard and reminded the people why they are doing this in the first place, what they would be getting themselves into. As we continue making our way through Advent, I invite us to spend some time this week reflecting on the baptisms we have experienced or witnessed in our life, asking the question: What is God preparing us for? And, what are you waiting and hoping for as we journey through Advent? Perhaps it is unexpected joy, like an awkward stick figure of the branch of Jesse, or perhaps it is something entirely different. Either way, we are called to listen to the one crying out in the wilderness, the one who offers guidance along the way, preparing us for what is to come.
[1] Alberto Taulé, trans. Madeleine Forell Marshall, “All Earth is Hopeful,” in Evangelical Lutheran Worship (Augsburg Fortress: Minneapolis, 2000), 266.