Sermons

“Peace, the Eternal Construction Zone”

Luke 1:67-80; Luke 3:1-6 – Rev. Rebecca Littlejohn

Vista La Mesa Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), La Mesa, California – December 9, 2018

 Holy God, bless the speaking and the hearing of these words that the dawn from on high might break upon us and set our feet on the paths of peace.  In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.

You’ve heard me say before that many of our hymns are written in aspirational language.  That is, we sing the words not because they are true, but because we want them to be true.  We’re trying to sing a new existence into being.  This is definitely the case with our Hymn of Response this morning.  If you look at the beginning of the second verse of “Hail to the Lord’s Anointed,” you’ll see that it says “He comes with justice speedy to those who suffer wrong, to help the poor and needy, and bid the weak be strong.”  Justice speedy?  Really?  When did that happen?  Have you ever seen that happen?  Do you think it was any more common in 1822 when James Montgomery wrote those words?  I doubt it.  But then as now, it’s definitely something to aspire to.

Perhaps this song would make more sense if read in the light of Psalm 90 where we’re reminded that “a thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when it is past.”  God’s time is definitely on a different scale than ours.  And this is important to keep in mind when we consider our calling as peacemakers. [slide]  The imagery from John the Baptist’s quoting of Isaiah doesn’t bring to mind a magical moment when everything is suddenly made peaceful.  Valleys being filled and mountains and hills being made low takes a while.  It makes me think about talking with George Bailey about the construction of Interstate 8.  If you’ve ever driven the 8 into Arizona, as I did recently, or even just as far as El Centro, you’ve had occasion to reflect on valleys being filled and mountains made low.  This is not a “poof! It’s done!” kind of project.  What if John is trying to tell us that preparing the way of the Lord, building peace, is more like road construction than anything else?

Have you seen those construction signs on the road?  Is there anything more annoying than “Pardon Our Progress”?  There are many wonderful things about having no real winter in San Diego.  Year-round road construction is not one of them.  But it’s actually a very helpful metaphor for peacemaking.  And “Pardon Our Progress” just might make more sense in that context than it does on the road.

Every once in a while, you get to drive on a stretch of highway that’s recently been finished.  It’s smooth; it’s obstacle-free.  It feels like you could fly.  Those stretches are like the little moments we have when we can really sense the deep peace of God.  But they’re few and far between, aren’t they?  Roads, like most things, do not stay damage-free for long.  They get pits and potholes, and then temporary fixes make them even bumpier.  This is much like what happens with peacemaking.  Just when we’ve got one conflict figured out over here, something else is erupting over there.  Nothing stays fixed forever.  Peacemaking is not a project with a finished product, but a continual process.  And often the things that feel the least peaceful, that may even feel like jackhammers to our hearts and souls, are the things that are required for peace to emerge later.  “Pardon our progress.”  Like road construction, peacemaking is frustrating, and tedious and slow.  It’s full of stops and starts.  It’s never finished, and it never starts soon enough.

There are peace talks going on in Sweden this week, between the two sides of the war in Yemen.  The war in Yemen started in March of 2015, so it’s been going on for almost four years.  It’s sort of a civil war, but it probably wouldn’t have lasted this long if it hadn’t also become a proxy war between Saudi Arabia and Iran.  That, of course, means that we’re involved too.  Our government is providing weapons, intelligence, advisors and other tactical support to the Saudi-led coalition supporting the ousted president.  But if you’ve heard of the war in Yemen, it’s not likely because of US involvement, but because the UN has declared the situation in Yemen the “world’s worst man-made humanitarian disaster.”

Three million people have been displaced from their homes by this war.  More than 6,800 people have been killed, and over 10,700 injured.  Yemen is suffering from the world’s largest outbreak of cholera, with 1.2 million people affected.  At least 8.4 million people are at risk of starvation, with over 400,000 kids under the age of five suffering from severe acute malnutrition.  But there are peace talks going on in Sweden this week.  Attempts at these same peace talks failed in September because one side refused to show up.  So the fact that everyone is present is a positive sign.  Recent reports say the two sides have agreed on a prisoner swap, a first step the UN Envoy Martin Griffiths is hoping will help build confidence.

The most important next step, of course, is to try to get the ports secure, so that humanitarian relief can arrive to help keep the people of Yemen from starving to death.  Those who are battling for power never seem to anticipate the deadly consequences their actions will have.  Or maybe they just don’t care.  Almost four years in, and they’ve finally come to the table, at least for the moment.  Whether both sides will stick around till Thursday when they’re scheduled to finish remains to be seen.  Tedious, slow, stop and start, never finished and never started soon enough.  It would be nice if Jesus would show up and magically poof us all into a state of peace.  But for the moment, that isn’t how it happens.

We may not be able to do much about the situation in Yemen besides pray for the success of this week’s peace talks and pressure our representatives to cut off support to Saudi Arabia.  But this same road-construction metaphor can apply to the peacemaking we do in our own lives.  We know that quick fixes in relationships – apologies that skim over the real problem, gifts aimed at making people feel better without addressing the real issue – eventually cause more trouble than they solve, making the road bumpy and hazardous.  We have experienced how making peace is tedious and slow.  We put it off, just like municipal governments who are sure that road can stand one more winter.  But this slow, tedious, stop and start kind of work is what John is telling us we must do in order to prepare the way for Jesus to come into our world.  God can guide our feet into the paths of peace, but we have to join in building those paths ourselves.  Making the road through the valleys and over the mountains and rough places – this is why we’re here.  There will be terrible, tragic moments when we recognize that 8.4 million starving people is 8.4 million too many.  There will be tiny moments of triumph when we get two warring sides to agree to an important first step like a prisoner exchange.  And in the meantime, there will be lots of work to do on the side of the road, where those who are displaced by war and economic violence are waiting hungry, sick, and forgotten.

If we really believe, somewhere in our hearts, that Jesus is coming, we ought to be getting busy.  We’ve been decorating and buying gifts to prepare for Christmas.  But what are we doing to create a more suitable welcome in this world for the Prince of Peace?  That is the true work of Advent.  Feeding the hungry, tending the weary, welcoming the stranger, listening to the lonely, building peace, even though it’s tedious and slow and barely makes a drop in the bucket of human need.  This is the work of Advent that is happening here in this place, and in so many other places around the world where people of good will are tending to the needs of their neighbors.  This is how we build the world we aspire to live in, by pursuing the peace of God that feeds every hungry person and comforts every child.  This is how we welcome Jesus.  Pardon our progress indeed.  We’re preparing the way for the Prince of Peace.  Alleluia and Amen!