Highways connect people and cultures. Before looking at Isaiah’s call for a highway in the desert, think about the importance of highways for Israel. Highways shape Israel’s geopolitics more than almost any other factor, as wealth and power flowed through the ancient highways and trade routes. The King’s Road, which connected Heliopolis (modern Cairo) to Damascus, literally put Israel on the map as spices, gold, textiles and olive oil flowed through the great caravans. Unfortunately, armies traveled the highway as well, as Egypt, Assyria, Babylon and Rome all coveted the strategic dominance that came with subduing Palestine. It was a perilous and wondrous journey that traversed the Sinai desert, wound through the ravines of Petra and across mountain ranges, fighting heat, thirst, stubborn camels and bandits along the way. (Take the King’s Highway journey via the internet.)
Highways connect people and cultures. Before looking at Isaiah’s call for a highway in the desert, think about the importance of highways for Israel. Highways shape Israel’s geopolitics more than almost any other factor, as wealth and power flowed through the ancient highways and trade routes. The King’s Road, which connected Heliopolis (modern Cairo) to Damascus, literally put Israel on the map as spices, gold, textiles and olive oil flowed through the great caravans. Unfortunately, armies traveled the highway as well, as Egypt, Assyria, Babylon and Rome all coveted the strategic dominance that came with subduing Palestine. It was a perilous and wondrous journey that traversed the Sinai desert, wound through the ravines of Petra and across mountain ranges, fighting heat, thirst, stubborn camels and bandits along the way. (Take the King’s Highway journey via the internet.)
So much of the biblical story happens on the King’s Road. David’s power and prominence came from conquering cities to the east and north and gaining control of this section of the King’s Highway. For a few decades this tiny Kingdom of Israel shared in the wealth and power of great empires because of controlling the highway. Mary and Joseph flee to Egypt to the Southwest, Paul is converted through his vision of Jesus on his way up to Damascus, Jesus talks of the dangers on the stretch of highway to Jericho where a Samaritan helps an unfortunate traveler beaten and left for dead. In Acts 8 we read of the good news traveling up the road through Samara and down towards Gaza as Philip met with a high ranking eunuch from Ethiopia.
Isaiah imagines a highway that will connect people to God. When he talks of making a highway in the desert and seeing “every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain” perhaps the writer had made the great journey of the King’s highway, or at least he had heard all the tales of travelers passing through. Since Isaiah 40 is considered to be part of Second Isaiah and the time of exile, he must have longed for the opportunity to travel back the King’s Highway to the land of promise, to be in Jerusalem. The hope of this physical journey mirrors the spiritual journey with all the travails and promise of finding our home again with God. Isaiah understands that this journey must travel through a wilderness, for there are times when it seems that a dry desert separates us from a loving God. He could not have envisioned the vast American freeways, traveling at great speeds in the comfort of a minivan with air conditioning, a VCR and at least one cup holder per person. Journeys were arduous adventures, life changing pilgrimages that toughened the feet and opened the soul to the wonders of the world. So Isaiah knew the importance of saying “Comfort, comfort my people,” for people needed the hope of comfort through the desert stretches of the journey.
I am always in awe of the images of God that flow from Isaiah’s imagination. This God speaks tenderly one moment and in the next moment, this God is so great that merely by breathing upon the people, they fade and wither like grass. Just a quickly, this God becomes a shepherd who gathers us up like lambs and feeds us and gently leads us. The magnificence of God’s transcendence and the comfort of God’s gentle immanence are blended together in perfect paradox. Only through a great journey can a God such as this be known.
Take note of where the journey begins. Great journey are not only marked by great destinations, but also by what must be crossed and endured. Columbus had to cross the Atlantic, at a time when many people still thought the world was flat, to find a route to a new continent. Lewis and Clark paddled the great riverways and trudged across North America in an attempt to map out what America actually was. Isaiah says to prepare a way in the wilderness. It is significant that he did not say, “Gather provisions in Babylon, sell what you cannot carry in Damascus and buy food and water and camels.” The starting point is hard labor in the wilderness.
This makes sense for an Israelite prophet, for the whole idea of Israel as a distinct nation begins in the wandering through the wilderness of Sinai, seeking rescue from the Egyptians and a home in the promised land. This time the migration is a liberation from Babylon instead of Egypt, from the east instead of the west. It is the same thing spiritually for Israel, they must pass through the wilderness both literally and within their hearts to come home again to Jerusalem.
It is strikingly appropriate that Isaiah 40 and Mark 1:1-8 should be paired together in Advent. The writer of Mark’s Gospel understands that a new journey is beginning for God’s people. It is being announced from the wilderness through John the Baptist. God again proclaims comfort to the people of Israel who cry out from their spiritual wilderness and from the dominance of yet another empire. God again promises to act for the salvation of Israel, and more.
In preaching and interpreting this passage, it is necessary to begin in our own wilderness. Otherwise, why would we need deliverance or salvation? We all have some idea of what it is like to feel a desert between ourselves and God. We long for some kind of on ramp, a map of the highway that will take us back to the heart of God. Two years ago I went through a time where I could not go to the communion rail. I felt distant from God, locked up in my shame, unworthiness and failure. For six months I sat in worship, reading the liturgy, singing, listening to the sermons, hoping for some kind of breakthrough. Often I choked back the tears as I sat in silence while the rest of the congregation went forward. I feared going forward, scared that I would have some kind of emotional breakdown and create a terrible, emotional scene in front of the whole congregation. Sometimes I just left the sanctuary before communion and sat in the car while my boys finished Sunday School.
The work of lowering the mountains of my pride and raising the valleys of my despair took weeks. Then one Sunday, I finally felt like I could take communion again. As I listened to the Gospel lesson, which was the parable of the lost sheep, it just dawned on me that God was searching for me just like the shepherd looked for the one lost sheep. I don’t know why it dawned on me that Sunday. I don’t know why 6 months of participating in liturgy and hearing good sermons didn’t make it happen sooner. It just happened that Sunday, and I could go forward and receive communion again. God wasn’t any different that day; perhaps I had finally done the internal work of preparing the way.
Prepare the way. That is the call of Advent. Go to your wilderness. Prepare an “on ramp” so that God may find you and comfort you.
Thanks for sharing these comments with us. They help me to reflect upon the texts for this week. The Isaiah passage and the Markan passage interconnect as we attempt to find our way through the desert.
Posted by: Jerry Carpenter | December 03, 2008 at 10:58 AM
Greatings,
bloomingcactus.typepad.com - da best. Keep it going!
Thanks
Eremeeff
Posted by: Eremeeff | March 01, 2009 at 06:55 PM