My grandfather was a quiet man. My Grandmother, on the other hand,…well, she was
one of those who could talk non-stop, relentlessly. I know that’s redundant, but it helps to make
my point. My grandfather usually found a
way to cope with that. Usually with
work, civic groups, and staying busy. But,
when Granddaddy retired he had to come up with something quick . It did not
take long for the number of TV sets around their house to increase. He could turn on and tune out while Grandma yattered
on. He even put one in the kitchen. Grandma could watch her shows while she
piddled in there throughout the day, but mostly it was to give Granddaddy
relief at meal times. I have a fond
memory of that TV. I was there for
dinner one evening. The news was
on. Grandma was “givin’ ‘er” with the chatter
on family and neighbourhood news. In the
midst of this I noticed Granddaddy staring at the TV and becoming agitated in a
way very unlike him, so I turned to look at what was on. It was a news story about how the face of
Jesus was beginning to take shape in the rust on the side of a water tower
somewhere in Ohio. Granddaddy was as
angry as I’ve ever seen him, if I ever saw him angry and he blurted out, “The
Bible says that when Jesus comes back he’s coming on clouds of glory not on the
side of some water tower. Ain’t that
right, boy?” I said, “That’s right”. He shook his head in righteous indignation
and went back to eating.
Now, I cannot say much for Canada, but I know that
down in the Southern U.S. where I’m from, down in the Bible Belt, people are as
superstitious about their so-called face of Jesus appearances as the Roman
Catholics were about their “relics” back in the Middle Ages (a piece of the
cross here, another head of John the Baptist there, here a finger of Peter, there
a toe of Paul). I have actually heard it
reported on the news in just the last ten years that the face of Jesus has
appeared on the tin roof of a barn silo, a piece of toast, on a tortilla chip,
and in the mould on a bathroom wall of a run down little house somewhere in
South Carolina. I’ve even heard a news
report on a Madonna and Child taking form in a Cheeto. And, the Jesus’s all look the same – the
bearded European, Shroud of Turin-y, crusader-looking guy who bears next to no
resemblance to a Middle Eastern Jew. I
don’t want to be stereo-typical about the facial features of certain races, but
the silo Jesus, the water tower Jesus, the tortilla Jesus, the bathroom mould
Jesus, and the Cheeto Madonna none of them in any way looked like Middle
Eastern Jews. Well, the fact is we
wouldn’t know Jesus to see him if we saw him, but Channel Whatever News all
over the South reports these things as if they are factual proof of the
existence of Jesus and people get giddy about it.
I’m with my grandfather on this one. The proof of the hope of our faith is not
rusting up on the side of some water tower in Ohio. But, you never know. Maybe if a face of Jesus had appeared in the
brickwork of a building or two down in Ferguson, Missouri this past week
legitimate cries for justice and equality before the law may not have turned so
violent so easily. Maybe if a face of
Jesus had appeared somewhere when the initial altercation occurred between
Michael Brown and Officer Wilson maybe it would not have ended in a needless
death.
Today, in the wake of all that I know this morning
there are some people down there, faithful people, good Christian people sitting
in church hearing the same passages of Scripture read that we just read and its
really speaking to them because it gives word to what’s deep down in them. “O that you would tear open the heavens and
come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence.” Actually, in the Hebrew language the word we
translate as “presence” is face. “O that you would tear open the heavens and
come down, so that the mountains would quake at your face, as when fir kindles
brushwood and the fire causes water to boil, to make your name known to your
enemies, so that the nations might tremble at your face.” Isaiah goes on to say and I paraphrase, “You
did it before when we didn’t expect it, when we didn’t deserve it. You freed us from slavery in Egypt, and
brought us to Mt. Sinai, ‘you came down, that mountain quaked at your face’. No ear has heard. No eye has seen any God besides you who acts for those who wait for him.” I think there are many people down in the
Southern U.S. this morning remembering how God delivered them from slavery and
led them through the fight for civil rights, but this morning they are praying
and shouting, “Jesus, show your face. We
are you people. You made us who we are. Where are you Jesus? Come down and show your face. Put things right here.” I know down there this morning there’s a
whole lot of people wanting Jesus to show up and do something. Yet, Jesus for whatever reason keeps his
distance and so the cry of lament legitimately goes up to God. What a profound sense of God’s absence they
must feel.
This passage from Isaiah is a lament and a special
one. Old Testament scholar Claus
Westermann in his commentary of Isaiah says that this passage from Isaiah is
“the most profound psalm of communal lamentation in the Bible”[1]. There’s something about laments we need to take
to heart. Their very presence in the
Bible let’s us know that it’s okay for us to be angry at God when he seems to
be pulling a George Jones. We bought the
ticket, stood in line, found our seat, but he ain’t showing. It’s okay to be angry with God when he seems
to be a no show. Job in the midst of his trials cries out “if only I could see
God face to face. If I could find where
he lived, I’d give him the what for.” (Of course, that’s my paraphrase of the
first few verses of Job 23.) There are
probably as many if not more psalms of lament in the Bible than there are psalms
of praise. Folks, it’s okay to be angry
with God. If we’re not allowed to get
angry with God, then we really don’t have a relationship with him. I would even as far as to say that he must be
bring us to a place of a profound sense of God’s absence before we find
ourselves profoundly aware of his presence.
I think that’s the message at the heart of this passage. God makes us feel his absence and somehow in
the wake of that he makes his presence known.
Have you ever looked looked at the state of your own
life and felt the profound absence of God?
Have you ever found yourself powerless over the course of your life and
in need of God’s help and yet it seems he’s nowhere to be found. Have you ever been on your knees crying out,
“Jesus, where are you? Come! Tear open the heavens and come down. Jesus, show me your face. You’ve done it before. I’ve read my Bible It’s full of stories of
your steadfast love and faithfulness, of how you did miraculous things for
those who wait for you. You did it for
them. Why don’t you do it for me? I know it is you who has made me who I am so where
are you? Jesus, show your face!” If you have ever felt that profound sense of
God’s absence and spoken your lament, then you know what this first Sunday in
Advent is about; this gut-churning waiting for God to act in the midst of the
painful profoundness of his absence. It
is not Christmas that we hope and wait for.
Christmas has happened and so we stand on it in faith. God has once and for all gotten involved in
his Creation to deliver it by becoming Jesus the Christ. Christmas has come. It’s the completion of Christmas that we
await. It’s his coming again to put
things right that we await. The strong feelings
underlying lament are mysteriously the seedbed of hope and faith through which he
eventually makes his presence known. It’s
okay to be angry with God and it’s okay to let him no it. Lament is part of how faith and hope work. Amen.
[1] Claus Westermann, Isaiah 40-66, (David M. G. Stalker,
trans.; OTL; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1969), 392.
