5th Sunday after Epiphany, Year B
Isaiah 40:18-30 (Preaching Text)
Mark 1:29-39
Is anyone stressed out? Anyone worried? Do we sense anxiety among us? If you are anything like me, you probably feel uneasy yourself or know someone who does. Are we tired of hearing only the negative numbers and situations as things keep getting worse with our economy. The words layoffs, cutbacks, and foreclosures are now a part of our daily
conversation. You don't need me up here telling you these things, nor do we need to be reminded about the situations we face as we walk out the door after worship. This information is everywhere and seems unavoidable. But if you are like me, you probably are looking for a reassuring word anywhere it can be found. I imagine that some of you here today tried to leave these worries at the door. We are here seeking hope and comfort in community. Hope and comfort have been on my mind a lot lately. They are not things we are finding in many places today in our world, but that is exactly what Isaiah offers us if we listen and look for it.
I assume most of you are familiar with Rembrandt and Kinkade--two particular artists from the 17th and 21st centuries. An article Jeanette Coppedge shared with me offered an analogy involving these two artists and Isaiah, and helped me to look at today's scripture passage with new eyes (1). If you are not familiar with these two artists, let me offer a brief description of the famous Dutch painter Rembrandt van Rijn from the 1600s, and well-known current American artist Thomas Kinkade. Kinkade is often seen in local galleries, and his paintings are found on everything from greeting cards and afghan blankets to coffee mugs. These Kinkade paintings show angelic scenery that evokes peaceful, serene, and calm feelings. They glow brightly. In fact, Kinkade is known as the painter of light. Here is a small image of his work, "The Night Before Christmas." If you can see it, you can tell how bright it is. The snow around the house is crisp and even. The snowman is completed in the front yard; the Christmas lights and wreaths are perfectly hung awaiting the big event. This is possibly the perfect Christmas that all of us imagine and sometimes even strive for in our own lives. It is an illumination of all that is good in the world. Though snow covers the ground, the light in it brings warm, happy thoughts of years gone by or the ideal for years to come.
[Image Above: The Night Before Christmas by Thomas Kinkade, 2004]
All of Kinkade's works that I have seen bring these same feelings of happiness, warmth, and perfection. In fact, Kinkade describes his work by saying, "I love to create beautiful worlds where light and peace reigns. I like to portray a world without the Fall." (2) A world before the Fall is a world without sin, greed, war, or problems. Or it might be a glimpse of heaven in the world to come. I don't know which, but either way, Kinkade's works serve as a reminder of a different time and place. They certainly are not the images that I see regularly these days when I look around, open the newspaper, or turn on the news.
The other artist I mentioned is Rembrandt van Rijn from Amsterdam during the 1600s. Famous for many different works, he is arguably best known for his mural "The Night Watch" with militia ready to head out.
[Image: The Militia Company of Captain Frans Banning Cocq (known as The Night Watch) by Rembrandt van Rijn, 1642, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam]
Two others I have here are "The Return of the Prodigal Son" and "The Supper at Emmaus."
[Image: The Return of the Prodigal by Rembrandt van Rijn, c.1666, The Hermitage, St. Petersburg (from Luke 15, "The Lost Son")]
Both of these are based on scenes from Luke's Gospel. Rembrandt, as you may notice from these images or ones you've seen in the past, are often dark and deep paintings. But they highlight certain areas with light to emphasize what is important to pay attention to in the image--usually the people's faces and relationships between them. Rembrandt, like Kinkade, used light, but he did so sparingly and carefully. It is usually seen peaking out through the darkness. Metaphorically speaking, which world do we live in today--Rembrandt's or Kinkade's?
[Image: The Supper at Emmaus by Rembrandt van Rijn, 1648, Louvre, Paris (from Luke 24, "The Road to Emmaus)]
I ask this question and bring these artists' works into discussion today, not because I am interested in lecturing on art history, though I do find it fascinating. I mention these because I find them such strong visual images to explore the passage we read this morning from Isaiah. Chapter 40 in Isaiah begins a section of Isaiah that scholars refer to as 2nd Isaiah that goes through chapter 55. They believe an unnamed prophet wrote it during the exile in Babylon. The Israelites in the kingdom of Judah were conquered by the Babylonians and taken off into exile in a foreign land. Hundred of years passed between chapters 39 and 40, and their situation in life had drastically changed. As a conquered people who had been removed from their homes and forced into exile, things were looking dark. Where was God during all of their problems? Where was hope and comfort in their situation? How could they possibly see God's light through all the darkness around them?
The prophet in Isaiah 40 is asking rhetorical questions of the exiles to help the Israelites see God's light through their own darkness. The prophet uses disputations to establish his argument by asking rhetorical questions. We see the questions included two times: "Have you not known? Have you not heard?" in verses 21 and 28. The prophet is not looking for specific answers, but is instead trying to help them recall their memories. They are questioning God's presence with them in their dark world, and the prophet responds with, "Do y'all REALLY NOT know? Have y'all REALLY NOT heard what God is up to? Have you so easily forgotten God's role in your lives and the lives if your ancestors--Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob?" It seems like because things are so bleak in their world, communally the Israelites are suffering from a bout of spiritual and historical amnesia about how God is at work or whether God is still present at all?
These often-quoted poetic verses from Isaiah are beautiful. The prophet uses images to describe God who was the creator of all we can see and imagine; God who knows us inside and out; God who energizes the weak and weary to give fresh strength. God placed the stars in the sky, knows every one of them, and calls them by name. Not one star is missing from the sky or God's memory. God is everlasting. God doesn't grow weary or tire out. We on the other hand will get tired and fall exhausted, but God is the great renewal of strength. God gives wings to fly and legs that never grow weak. Hope oozes out of these verses. Comfort abounds for everyone who is weak and weary. To me these passages almost invoke the same feelings like Kinkade's paintings, until we remember that people in a dark, troubling exile were hearing these words--the context changes everything. Instead, these words are like the soft glow of light peaking out amidst the Rembrandt paintings. This passage stands out as a glimmer of hope and light amid a dark and difficult world. God knows what is going on for these exiles and is sure to offer hope through the prophet's words when the people need to see God's light the most.
I know from my own life, when things are going well and life is good, it is much easier to ignore or not look for the presence of God around me, because it is everywhere and it gets taken for granted. The light of Christ is bright, but life is good and therefore makes it easy to overlook the true light. But when things get tough and sometimes discouraging, like life is for most of us these days, we long to look for the glimmers of light. It can be hard to adjust our eyes to see the light around us. The other day Steve and I were out house-hunting, and he climbed up into an attic to take a look around. We didn't bring a flashlight along, so he had to stop and wait to look around. His eyes needed a moment to adjust to the darkness to see the light that was present. The light was certainly in the attic, but his eyes needed to refocus in order to see it.
So given our world's situation today, how do we refocus our own spiritual eyes to see the light of God's presence around us? How do we look with new eyes or new determination to see where God is at work around and in us? I believe we have much wisdom to learn from Isaiah in order to see God today. Isaiah was writing to a community, so it would be fair to say that we need our community here today as well. Seeking to find hope and comfort from God is best done in community. We have one another to lift each other up, dust us off when we've fallen from weariness, and help us walk with new strength. When we are weary and exhausted, it can be harder to rightly assess God's call to us, so it is vitally important we seek it together. If one of us stumbles and cannot see the light of God, the church community is here to help.
The prophet in these verses from Isaiah also recollects Israelite history. Going back to the beginning, he recalls creation and the formation of the world. Since God has been there from the beginning, why would God abandon them all of a sudden? We've been through difficult times in the past, but God was there too, and is today. This morning in the Inquirer's class, we discussed different events in the Moravian Church's 550+ year history. Our spiritual ancestors were forced into hiding and had to flee, so they took their faith in God underground in order to survive. This hidden seed carried out their secret faith for almost a hundred year before reemerging in Herrnhut, Germany. They went through so much difficulty, and yet God's light prevailed and burned within them during their difficult days. Today is no different. By looking back, we can begin to look forward with new strength and hope.
We also proclaim God's light and presence with us through our music as we sing the story of faith. The songs give us words when our own words fail. They are our prayers when we have nothing to say on our own. "Come, Let us All With Gladness Raise a joyous song of thanks and praise to God who rules the heavenly host, God, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost" ands "Sing Praise to God who reigns above, the God of all creation." (3) Our hymns today come from our ancient Moravian history and are but two example of how we remember our faith and proclaim God's light, hope, and comfort in our difficult times.
I am reminded of our celebrations on Christmas Eve as I think about Isaiah's passage. The music rang out through this sanctuary and filled the streets beyond the walls. Community, friends, and family gathered outside waiting for a chance to celebrate with us. Our tradition of uplifting the light of Christ tangibly proclaimed that Christ, the light of the world, prevails through the darkness. There is nothing more beautiful on Christmas Eve, I believe, than seeing the congregation grow brighter as the candles are lit and passed around. Then in the culmination of our celebration, we lift up the candles during the last song and the room glows. The darkness has not won. The darkness will not win. Our dark, Rembrandt world is aglow with Christ's light. Like the millions of stars that twinkle to remind us each night that God is bigger than anything we can imagine; God's presence shines in our dark world. We proclaim it each Christmas, and we can draw from this event when our other memories begin to fail or grow dim.
So, Rembrandt or Kinkade? Which world do you live in? Likely, I would guess, we would agree that Rembradt's darkness is what we walk into when we leave this place today. But even in a dark world, God's light shines through. Let us look together for where we see God's presence and proclaim it loudly for others to see. God is here. Hope and comfort are present. Together, we can see the light of God anew. Amen.
(1) John D. Witviet, "Isaiah in Christian Liturgy: Recovering Textual Contrasts and Correcting Theological Astigmatism" in Touching the Altar: The Old Testament For Christian Worship, ed. by Carol M. Bechtel (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2008) 63-94. The comparison and idea for using Rembrandt and Kinkade comes from Witviet's thoughtful article. [Used in Duke Divinity School's Old Testament 2 Class with Dr. Ellen Davis, 2/2009.]
(2) Witviet, "Isaiah in Christian Liturgy" in Touching the Altar, ed. by Carol M. Bechtel (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2008) 68 [quoting from Randal Balmer's "Kinkade Crusade," Christianity Today, 4 December 2000, pp. 51.]
(3) "Come, Let Us All with Gladness Raise" from the Moravian Book of Worship (Bethlehem, Pa: Moravian Church in North America, 1995) 518. Hymn text by Matthew of Kunwald (1457) or Gabriel Komarovsky (1467). Translated by Michael Weisse (1531); Evelyn Renatus Hasse (1911). Tune by Michael Weisse (1531). "Sing Praise to God" from the Moravian Book of Worship, 537. Hymn text by Johann Jacob Schuetz (1675). Hymn tune from a Pre-Reformation melody, Bohemian Brethren's Gesangbuch (1566).
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