Joy in the Wasteland
An Advent Sermon by Brent J. Eelman
December 16, 2007, Abington Presbyterian Church

Isaiah 35: 1-10
The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad,
   the desert shall rejoice and blossom;
like the crocus ²it shall blossom abundantly,
   and rejoice with joy and singing.
The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it,
   the majesty of Carmel and Sharon.
They shall see the glory of the Lord,
   the majesty of our God.
 

A number of years ago, when our daughter was still in first or second grade, we rented a cottage for a week in Maine. Trips to Maine always include a pilgrimage to Freeport, the home of L.L. Bean. While traveling to Freeport, my wife Karen noticed a fairly shabby sign that said: “Come see the Desert of Maine!” Karen thought that this might be worth our time and that it would be an excellent educational opportunity for our daughter. Given the reality that we lived in the north eastern United States, it might be her only chance to see a desert. I thought it sounded a bit fishy, but we went anyway. We traveled down some lush and green roads on our way to the desert. A mile before we got there, we saw a gorgeous New England stream, surrounded by trees, long grass and wildflowers: hardly a desert! We paid our admission and entered the “desert”. To my surprise, it was a desert. Right there in the middle of lush and cool Maine! The temperature went up 10-15 degrees, and we were surrounded by sand that covered everything, including an old farm and many houses and buildings. The thirty or so acres were dry and barren, and were indeed a desert. Scientists have certified that this is a genuine desert… But I was struck by the irony, that in the lush New England countryside, literally abloom with vegetation, one could happen upon a dry and barren desert.

Our experience in Maine provided an ironic contrast to the words of the prophet Isaiah. In this passage that is often read during Advent, he proclaimed: The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; Amidst the blossoming and green New England country side, was a desert wilderness or wasteland. In the midst of Isaiah’s desert wasteland.. is a flowering and blooming countryside! Today, on the third Sunday of Advent, I am touched by the powerful and hopeful message of the prophet Isaiah. Isaiah was realistic about the world in which he lived, but he was also a visionary who proclaimed the hope of God. I want to take an advent journey with you in the next few moments to explore the meaning of this hopeful proclamation for us today. First, we will journey, by automobile, through the surrounding countryside and city. Second, we will journey into the depths of the human soul. Third, our journey will end with a reaffirmation of Isaiah’s vision of hope for our time.

I

Let’s take our car ride. Last week, I was hosting a visitor from out of town who wanted to see various parts of our area. I drove him around different parts of our county, showing him some of the historic areas, and churches. We swung up into Bucks County and visited some of the charming little communities that still exist there. Then we turned around and headed down 611 until it became Broad Street. We drove past the Dunkin Donuts restaurant where last month a policeman was brutally murdered. We went past churches that used to be thriving congregations, but are now boarded up. We saw people sitting on cardboard boxes, and assumed that it was also where they slept. There were signs of commerce, a few dollar stores, beauty shops, check cashing stores, bars and taverns, but it was a grim drive. My guest, making forced conversation, said, “This area looks pretty dismal.” Indeed it does. The boarded up stores, the abandoned homes and cars, the faces with abandoned expressions suggest that this area of the city might be described as a desert or wilderness: a wasteland through which we must drive, to get to the “other parts of town.”

This is where the rubber meets the road in our Advent season. An Advent Christian clings to the hope and belief that this is one of the modern deserts or wastelands that will suddenly bloom with hope and joy. Advent declares that these are the places where our hope in Christ should focus. Advent faith holds to the belief that communities like this, will someday bloom with the excitement of activity and hope; that the houses that are boarded up will once again become homes that are welcoming to strangers, homes that will nurture the lives of future generations. Advent flies in the face of our cynicism and challenges us to believe that wastelands like this will bloom and be filled with joy. North Philadelphia is only 4 -5 miles from here and so it is convenient to hold up, but I could also be talking about the small towns and communities in the middle of our state that have been abandoned by the industries and the people that once kept it going. Advent directs our attention to the wildernesses that surround us, and challenges us to hope… but also work and live toward that hope.

II

Let us journey into the human soul. The prophet Isaiah, though directed to the nation of Israel, can also be understood in terms of our own personal lives, and the deserts and wildernesses that often pockmark the human spirit. This season of joy is not always a joyous season for everyone. Mental health professionals tell us that depression rises during this time. Perhaps we are reminded of what we wanted but did not receive. Perhaps it is the creeping sense of failure that enters even the most outwardly successful of lives. Christmas is the season of promises, but also the season of broken promises remembered. Often within the human soul is a sense of loss, even emptiness, that is magnified in the midst of this season.

One of the great poems of the twentieth century is “The Waste Land” by T.S. Eliot. This poem, like a great deal of poetry from the 20^th century was about spiritual dryness within the souls of human beings. This spiritual dryness is manifest when work brings no sense of purpose, when sex is devoid of love, when death lacks the promise of the resurrection, when hope is trampled by routine and drudgery. This is the place in our spirit that like the desert in Maine, or the slums of our city, is the dwelling of hopelessness. Advent is the reversal of human hopelessness. Advent declares that however real those feelings and realities of life are.. that they ultimately will be overcome with the flowers of hope, the trees of aspiration and the cooling comforting grass of forgiveness. Advent is a message to us, that proclaims that there is hope for your life, that whatever the experience, it is momentary and that life itself is intended to be redeemed and saved.

In spite of all the pressures that clergy feel and experience during the Christmas season, I have grown to love this time of year. I especially love the stories that we tell and the Christmas movies that play on the TV and in our theaters. How many times have I seen It’s a Wonderful Life and realized that this is a message of profound hope to people living through the economic difficulties… but it is also the story of man who was in a spiritual wasteland, wondering what life would had been like if he never existed. It is about the gift of hope that is born in his spirit… and this is what we crave during this season. I have shed many a tear while watching The Bishop’s Wife, perhaps because I am intimate with the ambition of the Bishop, but also the need to be guided through the desert of spiritual leadership. These movies touch a part of us that is sacred and sensitive because it is that part that longs to hope again; the spirit that longs to bloom with joy. Some might say that the plots of Christmas movies are clichéd, but we might, more accurately say that they are archetypal. They are an integral part of the human spirit. They touch us because they are intimate with the human story, our own story.

III

The ads remind us that there are only eight more days to shop for that perfect gift. The TV commercials regale us, not with visions of sugarplums, but electronic gizmos and glitzy gadgets that will somehow complete our lives and make them better. Every year we do this dance, and every year we soon realize that the “perfect gift” did not deliver on its promise. And then we stumble on the vision of the prophet:

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad,
the desert shall rejoice and blossom;
like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly,
and rejoice with joy and singing.
The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it,
the majesty of Carmel and Sharon.
They shall see the glory of the LORD...

We hear the words of a different promise. They are words that speak to the wastelands of our spirit, the emptiness of our souls. It is the promise of a gift… a gift that will bring joy to this weary planet. A promise that, indeed we shall see “the glory of the Lord.”

The promise does not mention the mall or the store; instead it speaks of the darker areas of our lives, the parched spirit, the desert of unhappiness. The promise declares that it is precisely there that the glory of the Lord shines! Its light emanates from a child, rejected, and ultimately killed, but not extinguished nor buried in the tomb of history. A child who is very much alive, born to bring joy to this world, filled with its wastelands; a child born to bring joy to spirit of humanity; a child born to transform the deserts that surround us, into the fertile habitation of hope and fulfillment. This is the good news that the prophet Isaiah declares,, and it is the gospel. AMEN.
 

*The New Revised Standard Version Bible, (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson Publishers) 1989.

Abington Presbyterian Church, Abington, Pennsylvania,  www.apcusa.org