|
||
|
(Isaiah 35) - Mary’s Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55) - comments - Jesus/John the Baptist (Matthew 11:2-6) - (cf. Isaiah 35—Jesus is doing what Isaiah said would happen) “Blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.” - why would anyone be offended by the things Jesus is doing? - Maybe because things weren’t working out the way they thought they would. Jesus is here, but “it” doesn’t seem to be. - it’s not happening at the snap of a finger or blink of an eye. When it didn’t happen all at once, maybe they assumed it wasn’t happening at all. Maybe today we sometimes find ourselves guilty of the same assumption. “Are you the one who is to come? Or should we be looking for someone else?” And as we’re frantically searching…we miss what’s happening all around us, right in front of us. John the Baptist would be killed before seeing anyone overthrown. Mary would watch her son slaughtered by the very powers/rulers he was supposed to overthrow. [the Bruce Springsteen reference here is in regards to his song “Jesus Was an Only Son” from the album Devils and Dust. You can see a rough, live recording of the song here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EJjLrtRixME] Deserts weren’t blooming; justice wasn’t rolling down from the mountains like streams of water. Things just seemed to be getting worse and worse. << REWIND Story starts in a garden. Through series of events, mankind is kicked out of the garden. We lose fellowship not only with God, but also the garden, which we are still supposed to tend and care for…only now it’s harder because all of creation is frustrated. Through another series of events, Cain (child of these first people) is forced to become a wanderer. But rather than going the way of a hunter/gatherer…he builds a city. - he creates a network of independence and self-sufficiency, this place of autonomy from God rather than reliance on him, of seeking His provision. - and so the city becomes a symbol of rebellion (Tower of Babel: “Let us build a tower in order to make a name for ourselves.”) Throughout the life of Christ, we find him among the foothills and wilds of the Middle East. Only toward the end of his ministry does he begin to make his approach up to the great city, Jerusalem. At its center was the Temple, which had become a sort of cage for God. The priestly system that ran it was corrupt, with many using it as a means to affluence and easy living. Profiteers filled the courtyards, exacting prices and fees from their already poor kinsman. Watching over it all is a man, Herod, who works for another man (Caesar) who claims to be the son of god on earth and demands unwavering allegiance and worship. Jesus spends his final week enveloped by humankind’s rebellion. And ultimately it seems he’s defeated by it. It seems. The Scriptures were (and are) sacred to the Jews. Every Jewish child (many even today) had the entire Torah memorized by the age of 12. They are read. They are poured over. Wrestled with. - one way the scriptures are approached is through the principle of first mention: If you come across pertinent word or concept, you refer back to the place where it was first mentioned to add depth and understanding to that concept. Book of Genesis is considered “seed bed” by the Jews—it’s a book of origins, and within it lies all sort of meaning and understanding about the origin of things, and how the original origin of something speaks to our current understanding of things. Readers read this way…writers wrote this way. For example: John 3:16 – “For God so loved the world…” - love is first mentioned in Gen 22 when God tells Abraham to take “your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love” and offer him as a sacrifice. - John doing something intentional with his gospel: he wants his readers to see a connection between Abraham and his son, and God and God’s son. John’s readers who knew the Torah would have seen the parallels right away. Keeping this in mind, let’s look at how John deals with the final week of Jesus...keeping in mind the most famous seven-day period in the history of Jewish literature: the creation account. It is then astounding to see what John does in his gospel: 6th day: man is presented within creation as being created in God’s image. 6th day: (John 19:5) “When Jesus came out wearing the crown of thorns and purple robe, Pilate said to them, “Here is the man!” End of 6th day: God finishes work. End of 6th day: (John 19:30) “When he had received his drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” 7th day: God rests. 7th day: (John 19:42) “Because it was the Jewish day of Preparation and since the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.” He rests. John lays the two accounts on top of one another. God’s work of creation has just been retold, with Jesus inserted into it. But John’s not finished. 20:1 – “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance.” - first day = in the beginning. He’s starting over. v. 10-15: “Then the disciples went back to their homes, but Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot. They asked her, ‘Why are you crying?” “They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they’ve put him.” At this she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she didn’t realize it was Jesus. “Why are you crying?” he said. “Who are you looking for?” Thinking he was the gardener, she said… Thinking he was the gardener. - it’s the first day…and it’s in a garden. John is describing a brand new creation, something new has been birthed within the old. Something on a scale no less than God creating all things has just happened through Christ. There’s a new Adam on the scene, and he’s reversing the previous curse by conquering it, and he starts where it started: in a garden. - all of creation is being reclaimed. Remade. Renewed. Jesus said when that started to happen, it would be like yeast working through dough. It would be like a mustard vine creeping through a garden and overtaking it and becoming a place where things can live and dwell. - Isaiah talked about a desert becoming a place for life, where waters once again flow and flowers break through the earth and bloom. - but in none of these examples does it ever happen in the blink of an eye: Yeast needs time to saturate the dough. A mustard seed needs time to grow and twist and reach for the sun and grow strong enough to support nests and homes for animals. A desert takes time for life to slowly begin to overtake it, for springs to bubble up from aquafirs and seeds to be dropped by birds. The kingdom of heaven is like a strangler vine/fig. [for more info on strangler figs, see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strangler_fig An image of a mature vine that has completely enveloped and ‘become’ a tree: http://mongabay.org/images/brazil/pantanal_strangler_fig2.gif] - I think if we were standing in a rainforest with John, looking at a mature strangler vine, he would say, “Behold, it’s been made new.” The yeast TRANSFORMS the dough into bread. The seed TRANSFORMS into a tree. The desert TRANSFORMS into a place for life and fertility. The vine TRANSFORMS into a tree. It’s a process. A slow unveiling. It’s as if this world is giving birth to another one, in the midst of itself. (Rom 8:18-25) We are to live as if ‘the future’ is already true…and here’s the mysterious and amazing thing: As we do, it does. Future hope becomes present reality. But there’s one small detail we have to deal with: Started in a garden. Sort of ‘restarts’ in a garden. But ends in a city. God comes to dwell with us in the city. The place of rebellion and independence, when restored, becomes a place of intimacy and connection, of deep human contact and reconciliation. Of love and giving. And in the middle of it all, before God’s very throne, is a tree. The garden and city are intertwined. Reconciled. Healed. Restored. Made new. Isaiah 35: “In the haunts where jackals once lay, grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.” (Isaiah 58): “Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins and will raise up the age-old foundations; you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls, Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.” I want to be called a Repairer of Broken Walls. I want to be known as a Restorer of Streets with Dwellings. I want to live my life in such a way and interact with people and creation around me in such a way that I’m mistaken for the gardener. And in the end, I want to welcome our King to this dough-turned-bread, this seed-turned-tree, this once-desert-now-fertile-valley, this vine-turned-tree…to enter with singing and everlasting joy upon our heads, with gladness and joy overtaking us. The main symbol and metaphor Jesus used for the kingdom was of a party. Of a banquet with dancing and singing and interaction and deep, irreplaceable JOY. It was an event of inclusion and acceptance and reconciliation and celebration. As this kingdom spreads and saturates, we have to have eyes to see how it’s moving, how it’s moving and morphing and transforming. We have to have hands that are ready to build and tend and aid in the restoration. And we have to have ears to ear the modern ‘magnificats’ that are rising up from all around us, being mindful that these songs of joy probably won’t be coming from the “well off” or “well-to-do”…but from expectant teenage mothers.
The shouts of praise won’t
necessarily come from the mouths of kings or even presidents, but vagabond
shepherds who wander about the foothills and margins of society. |
