Going to the Mountain of God—Lectionary Reflection for Advent 1A (Isaiah 2)
Isaiah 2:1-5 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)
2 The word that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem.
In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house
shall be established as the highest of the mountains,
and shall be raised above the hills;
all the nations shall stream to it.
3 Many peoples shall come and say,
“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
to the house of the God of Jacob;
that he may teach us his ways
and that we may walk in his paths.”
For out of Zion shall go forth instruction,
and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
4 He shall judge between the nations,
and shall arbitrate for many peoples;
they shall beat their swords into plowshares,
and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war any more.5 O house of Jacob,
come, let us walk
in the light of the Lord!
***************
Here in Isaiah
2, we hear a word from the LORD delivered to Jerusalem and Judea
through Isaiah. What we encounter here is one of the most beautiful messages in
Scripture. The prophet issues a beautiful call to peace that has universalistic
tendencies. While the larger context of this message offers a strong word of
judgment on the House of Jacob (Israel), which is soon to fall because it has
“forsaken the ways of your people” and followed foreign gods (Is. 2:6). Be that
as it may, the word delivered to Jerusalem offers a promise of peace to those
who learn the ways of the LORD.
This message needs to be understood
in Judea’s geo-political location. This tiny nation sat at the crossroads
between the Egyptians to the south and the various empires that would arise to
the north. The nation didn’t have much in the way of resources or military
prowess. Judea and its neighbor to the north often were at odds with each other
but were also often forced into alliances with and against these various
powerful empires. In fact, many of the battles between the empires to the north
and the south took place on their land—often on the plains of Megiddo
(Armageddon). For a people like this, the promise of peace was always welcome.
Peace might not only allow the nation to survive but even expand a bit. Of
course, adopting the religions of one’s more powerful neighbors often helped
with survival. As we see here, Isaiah wants to turn the tables on this idea. He
reminds the people that while their nation might be small in terms of land and
political power, the same was not true of the God of Israel/Judea. The God of
Israel sat on the highest mountain and all the nations would travel to that
mountain to seek guidance. At least that is the promise and the hope that
sustains this tiny nation.
As this is the first Sunday of
Advent, many congregations will light the candle of hope. While we often think
of hope as a form of optimism. In other words, “I hope to go to Europe in
2023.” It’s possible but not a sure thing. David Arnow’s definition of hope
invites us to not only dream but act. He suggests that for him “hope reflects
our embrace of the possibility of a particular, deeply desired future, and hope
fuels our actions to help bring it about.” Regarding this connection of hope to
action, he writes first that hope fuels action by unleashing “energy and
motivation” so we can persist in times of trial. Regarding action, “hope embodies
our ongoing determination and effort to shape the future, regardless of
circumstance” [Choosing Hope, p. xiv]. The prophet calls on the people
to put their trust in God, but that trust must be put into action.
If we look around, we see that
there is a lot of fear and anxiety when it comes to the future. Things look
challenging at the very least. Democracy has been put to a test in the United
States. Inflation eats away at people’s income. There is a lot of fear of the
other running rampant as well. Yes, fear rather than hope seems to be the
dominant emotion at the moment. But again, hope is more than an emotion or
feeling. It is, as Arnow writes, “the energy and determination we are willing
to invest in making that outcome happen whether it is likely or not” (Choosing Hope, p. xv).
In Isaiah’s vision that offers us
hope for the future, the central image is the mountain on which the LORD’s
house sits. That mountain could be Mount Zion, where the Jerusalem Temple sits.
Zion might not be the highest mountain in the region, it was the place where
Judeans understood God to dwell (even if metaphorically). This is where you go
to encounter God. It is, you might say, a thin place where the distance between
heaven and earth is small. As for Jerusalem, it was far from being the grandest
city in the Near East. This wasn’t Nineveh or Babylon or Memphis (Egypt).
Nevertheless, the prophet envisions a time when the nations will make a
pilgrimage to the mountain of the LORD. Thus, Yahweh was more than simply a
territorial deity who ruled over this small nation. Therefore, Jerusalem and
its Temple marked the place where the nations would meet to worship Yahweh and
seek God’s peace.
According to the prophet, the purpose
for going to the mountain of the LORD involved being instructed in the Law or Torah.
The reference to the Torah portrays God, not in terms of monarchy, but as a
teacher and judge. It’s an appropriate image because Judea was a small nation
sitting at the crossroads of the various empires of the day. While Egypt and
Assyria could impose “peace” on their neighbors through military conquest
(think pax Romana), Judah didn’t have that kind of power. Nevertheless,
it was in a position to mediate disputes (sit as judge and teacher) for the
nations. As for what it might mean for God to be a judge and mediator among the
nations, Gene Tucker suggests that God
is the one who “settles disputes among nations, resolving their differences so
that peace can be established and maintained.” Then he writes: “Consequently,
those who would respond to this vision of peace will seek to become peacemakers,
not accusing individuals or nations but acting as mediators and arbitrators
among them” [Tucker, “Isaiah,” NIB, 6:69].
While this first Sunday of Advent lifts up the image of hope, with peace coming
next week, it is a fitting image for the season.
Isaiah shares a hopeful vision in
which God turns the tools of war into tools designed to provide sustenance to
the people. Isaiah envisions the dismantling of what Dwight Eisenhower spoke of
during his tenure as President—the “military-industrial complex.” He warned
against basing the economy on military expenditures and yet to this day the
military remains the largest department of the government. In light of this
vision, we might ponder a question often asked, but rarely pursued concerning what
would happen if the United States and other nations re-routed much of the
military budget to job creation, infrastructure, and food production. That is
the question posed to us by Isaiah at a time when the little kingdom of Judah
lived under duress from its neighbors. So, what would happen if we pursued a
policy of peace instead of war? What if we headed to Mount Zion and sought the
LORD’s wisdom and guidance? What would be the pathway to peace? Answers might
not be easily obtained, but the hope is there that peace could reign.
The Gospel reading for the day
offers an apocalyptic vision of the second coming, the day when the Son of Man
comes at an unexpected hour (Mt. 24:36-44), so be prepared. That’s part of the
Advent message, be prepared, not for the first Advent that has already taken
place, but the one to come. This reading from Isaiah fits with that message
because it speaks to the expectation that God will judge the nations. The
reading from Isaiah 2 ends in verse 5, which calls on the people of God to walk
in the light of the LORD. That is also a word about being prepared. You need
light to see the path ahead.
To walk in the light of the LORD is
to keep one’s eyes focused on God’s leading. It is God who teaches and judges.
It is God who lights the path forward giving us hope. As Judah knew quite well,
and as Isaiah makes clear in his message, many competing altars beckon us. Popular
culture and political culture are some of the altars that beckon. H. Richard
Niebuhr wrote many years ago that “if the word ‘god’ means the object of human
faith in life worthwhileness, it is evident that men have many gods, that our
natural religion is polytheistic” [Niebuhr, Radical
Monotheism, p. 119]. Isaiah’s contemporaries knew this to
be true. As for us, we Christians may claim to be monotheistic and worship one
God, but in daily life, we find ourselves worshiping many different gods. Mark
Toulouse, Juan Floyd-Thomas, and Stacey Floyd-Thomas suggest that while religion
might be important to Americans, “the religion we practice is often not the
religion we confess” [Altars
Where We Worship, p. 1]. Our religion is pragmatic. We want a serviceable
and friendly God, so that “the objects of our attention have become our God,
and fulfilling our desires has become our religion” [Altars, p.
2]. Isaiah invites us to ponder which altars we gather at for worship. Is it
the altar of Yahweh or is it the altar of empire and political power? Is our
religion subservient to a cause that strays from the path laid out for us by
God?
Isaiah casts a wondrous vision for this first Sunday in Advent. He offers us a vision of peace that leads to abundance (because we’re using our resources to produce food rather than fight wars). I’m mindful that at this moment there are nations, like Ukraine, who are fighting for their survival. They would love to embrace this vision but wonder how it can be fulfilled when more powerful nations seek to wipe them off the map. Thus, realism colors my interpretation of this vision. Nevertheless, if this is a vision of hope, and hope requires our action, then we have work to do. We must walk in the light of the Lord, seeking the wisdom that God provides. That will require us to put aside our idols. So, let us go up to the mountain seeking a pathway to peace, justice, and abundance. With that in mind, let us sing:
O God of every nation, of every race and land,
Redeem your whole creation with your almighty hand;
Where hate and fear divide us, and bitter threats are hurled,
In love and mercy guide us, and heal our strife-torn world.
William W. Reid, Jr.
Image attribution: Koenig, Peter. Swords into Ploughshares, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=58485 [retrieved November 19, 2022]. Original source: Peter Winfried (Canisius) Koenig, https://www.pwkoenig.co.uk/.
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