We begin this morning with another striking image from the prophet
Isaiah:
The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard
shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together,
and a little child shall lead them.
Isaiah asks us to imagine a peaceable kingdom. It is the dream of
God: a world living as God would have it
live, the garden of Eden restored.
This dream was announced by the prophet in a time of war abroad
and division at home. It was a time when the kingdom of Judah was relatively
prosperous and secure, but the world around it was increasingly dangerous and
threatening.
I wonder how Isaiah’s original hearers reacted to this dream. I
wonder what their response was to this call to imagine the possibilities for
life that God offered them. I suspect they felt a deep desire touched within
them, and yet, also, a profound sadness, even despair, that this dream could
never be fulfilled.
Deep within us all lies the desire for peace. But I think we often
dare not imagine it. To imagine it is, after all, to invite sadness, even
despair, because so many things stand in our way of ever getting to that place.
So many things which seem out of our control.
Imagine what your kingdom of peace would look like, feel like. Do
you have the same voice inside you that is inside me when I try to do that
dreaming? “Don't go there!” that voice says. It is, on the one hand, quite
practical advice. Be realistic! Don’t be a dreamer! It’s meant to protect us
from despair.
On the other hand, it is a kind of capitulation to despair, is it
not? To stifle our imagination, to
refuse to dream seemingly impossible dreams.
Isn’t it true that without an “impossible dream” for our future, our
present reality is left being all that there is?
We need impossible dreams of peaceable kingdoms to pull us along
into the future and encourage us to take risks to make at least small dreams
come true. And we need impossible dreams
of a kingdom of peace to struggle against the kingdom of anxiety that surrounds
us and infects us.
But the kingdom of anxiety and its influence over us is
strong. Our inner voice says to the
dreamer inside us, “Don’t go there!” That voice is loud and persistent. And there
is a mountain of evidence that our dreams of peaceable kingdoms are
foolishness.
Sometimes we need to be shaken out of our complacency, shaken out
of our capitulation to anxiety and violence as a way of life.
And hence, we need John the Baptist.
The pairing of these readings seems very odd at first, doesn’t
it? Isaiah’s vision of the peaceable
kingdom and John’s screaming at us to repent in the wilderness? But the oddness
of the pairing puts before us a great truth.
There is no other way to the peaceable kingdom, no other way to true
peace in our lives, but through John.
The way of peace lies through John.
What do I mean?
It is that word he uses, “repent.”
Let’s first get out of the way some of its popular meanings that really
have little to do with what John or Jesus mean by it.
Repent does not mean “feel bad about or even hate yourself.” Repent
does not mean “feel ashamed for things you’ve done wrong.” Repent does not mean
“feel guilty.”
Repent means “turn around.” Repent means “find a new perspective, get
a new attitude.” Repent means, “Don’t
just stand there feeling ashamed or guilty, do something.”
“Repent” means “change.” Change your mind, change the path you’re
on. And there’s no other road to peace than the road marked “change.”
Now there’s a deep irony here. Change is unsettling. Change is
often chaotic. Change takes us off balance. Change seems to bring us anything
but “peace.”
But like the word “repent,” our understanding of the word “peace” needs
a check-up.
Peace doesn’t mean “complacency.” Peace doesn’t mean capitulation
to the kingdom of anxiety and fear that controls so much of our lives.
Peace means “well-being.” Peace means “wholeness.” Peace means
being in full relationship with God, full relationship with yourself, and full
relationship with your neighbor. Peace
means the absence of anxiety and the absence of fear, and the total acceptance
of love.
Is this peace truly an impossible dream? Yes. Unless we dream it
with God and unless we dream it with one another. Unless we let go of the
notion that we must change ourselves. Unless we start asking God to enter into
partnership with us to make change happen and be willing for God to use others
to show us the way and walk it with us.
Most of us know within ourselves at least one thing that keeps us
from peace. Most of us, in fact, know a whole army of inner stuff that keeps us
from peace.
What the Scriptures tell us today is that we must dare to dream
our own peaceable kingdom. A dream where the wolf lies down with the lamb. A
dream where we forgive someone. A dream where we accept a deep hurt or loss
that has kept us in despair or in anger. A dream where we stop judging others—and
ourselves—so harshly. A dream removing whatever roadblock that keeps us from
peace.
We must dare to dream the impossible dream and then we must face
John. Face our true selves in the mirror. Face the need to repent, to change,
to get a new perspective, to let go of our own need to save ourselves. Embrace
the need to partner with God and let God use others to help show us the way and
walk with us, knowing full well that the journey to peace most likely will take
us through John’s unquenchable fire. But then, there’s no other way to get rid
of the chaff—a metaphor for those roadblocks to peace in our lives. And we can
trust that on the other side of the fire is truly a more peaceable
kingdom. That is God’s promise.
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