At the time in which Isaiah wrote this morning’s prophecy, the Assyrian army surrounded the city of Jerusalem. Imagine … day after day, the clashing of swords and spears; the smell of blood and death hanging in the air; stomachs growling and bodies growing weak; the injured crying out in pain. It was in the midst of this hellscape that the prophet imagined paradise—a new green shoot would grow out of dead wood; a spirit-filled, justice-serving leader would arise; predator and prey would coexist without hurt; children would play with dangerous snakes unharmed; divine wisdom and peace would be like the sea, permeating everything.

Friends, we too, are in a time of siege. ICE authorities are blatantly lying about what they are doing. We know they are not here to arrest criminals. The people being targeted are our friends and family, our co-workers, our employees, the people whose kids go to school with our kids. They are kidnapping hardworking people who make our community better and stronger. They are ripping families apart without mercy. They are assaulting peaceful witnesses. At a protest this week at the airport, plane-spotter Nick Benson described the deportation flights he had witnessed. How he saw agents laying out shackles on the freezing ground, marching detainees onto the tarmac, chaining them up and herding them onto planes. A parallel image of slaves in the hold of a ship flashed through my mind.

And yet, so many times this week, my imagination also awakened to the promise of something better. On snowy airport sidewalks, in the freezing Target parking lot, outside of countless mosques during Friday prayers, and in multiple neighborhood listservs, people mobilized in huge numbers to to protect and defend each other, to show solidarity, to demonstrate love and to celebrate the strength of our diversity. The words of Rabbi Adam Stock Spilker of Mount Zion Temple particularly moved me. At a press conference held in a Somali mosque this week, he urged us not to let the hatred and cruelty of this administration become our focus. He said: “This is the moment that the tide will change. We need each other, and what seems most dark and plausible in our most defeatist imaginations need not and will not happen. It is possible for us together to shift the direction of the great waters. And let us focus our energies around this possibility.” ¹

In our Bible study this week, Jann Weaver offered an “aha!” moment for many of us as she pointed our attention to a pivotal work of theology. In case you don’t know Jann, she is a retired pastor as well as Professor Emerita of Worship, Theology and the Arts at United Seminary. Jann joins us faithfully for worship each week on YouTube—“Hi, Jann!” The book Jann referenced is by Rebecca Parker and Rita Nakashima Brock. It’s title is Saving Paradise: How Christianity Traded Love of This World for Crucifixion and Empire. I haven’t read the book (yet); however this brief description from Beacon Press offers an intriguing summary of the argument: “During their first millennium, Christians filled their sanctuaries with images of Christ as a living presence—as a shepherd, teacher, healer, or an enthroned god. He is serene and surrounded by lush scenes, depictions of this world as paradise. Yet once he appeared as crucified, dying was virtually all Jesus seemed able to do, and paradise disappeared from the earth. Saving Paradise turns a fascinating new lens on Christianity, from its first centuries to the present day, asking how its early vision of beauty evolved into a vision of torture, and what changes in society and theology marked that evolution. It also retrieves, for today, a life-affirming Christianity that the world sorely needs.” ²

Of course the vision of God’s salvation as an earthly paradise restored is way more ancient than Jesus. The promise that the earth can again become the beloved community God intends flows from the heart of Isaiah and the entire Jewish prophetic tradition. In this season of Advent, as we await the coming of God-with-us, may the imagination of these prophets guide us. May we understand more deeply what it means that we wait, and hope, and prepare for a “savior”—not a rescuer, but one who draws us all, together, toward greater wholeness. One who coaxes fresh green shoots from dead stumps, one who cultivates just leadership one who fill us with life-giving breath that “kills” hate, and truthful speech that silences evil. We hear today the Advent call of another prophet, John the Baptist, in Matthew, to “repent”. Repentance means to turn around, to go in a new direction—so John, too, calls us to use our imagination to find a different path. We might get upset about all the cutting of trees with axes and scared off by the burning of chaff in unquenchable fire, but these are not meant to be images of individual punishment, rejection, or violence. They are a necessary preparation, a cleansing and clearing away of all that gets in the way of our imagination, our collective ability to focus our energies around what is possible. Paradise restored. Salvation on earth. Beloved community in which we all be. Amen.

¹ “Multifaith Clergy Stand Together to Denounce Trump’s Hateful, Dangerous Attacks on Somali-Americans in Minnesota” on Facebook
² Beacon Press: Saving Paradise