The Rev.
Dr. Leah D. Schade
Isaiah
5:1-7; 11:1-5
If a picture is worth a thousand
words, than a metaphor is worth a thousand feelings and connections. The Bible is replete with images that not only
spoke to the original hearers, but also speak to us, Many generations removed. This imagery of new growth arising out of the
stump was so powerful for the people in Isaiah’s time. Their history was marked with periods of utter
devastation, sometimes at the hands of their enemies, but other times through
their own failure to enact justice for those most vulnerable in their own
community.
We, too, can resonate with the loss
God feels for this vineyard that had been Israel – “he expected justice, but
saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry!”
And how anguished those cries have been this past month across our
world, as we saw story after story of bloodshed in Baghdad, Beirut, Paris. And here in the United States where we have
had more mass shootings than days of the year in 2015. And in refugee camps and walking trails
across the globe where thousands are fleeing for their lives, trying to find
safety in a place that will welcome them, rather than shutting them out.
“O Come, O Branch of Jesse, free your
own from Satan’s tyranny,” we sang in the opening hymn. What does this mean – Branch of Jesse? It comes from this passage in Isaiah: “A
shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of
his roots.” Jesse was the ancestor of
David, the great king of Israel. At the
time when Isaiah was writing these words, it appeared that the line of kingship
had been cut to the stump, along with the rest of the nation of Israel. They were existing on bare bones, with little
hope, and not many prospects for a better future.
I came upon a stump earlier this
summer.
It was a tree that had been ripped
down by a storm. All that was left was
this stump.
But that was not the end of the
tree. A new branch began growing out of
the stump.
And today, this is the tree that has
grown just as tall as the other trees around it.
I have to admit – I passed by this tree for
years and never really took notice of its trunk, what had happened to it. But one day as I was walking past it,
something made me stop and notice the raggedness of the trunk. And as I took a closer look, I realized what
had happened to it. This tree had once
been just a stump. But look at it
now.
An image like this, like the one we
have in Isaiah, is so important – because it ignites our theological
imagination. Theological imagination is
the capacity to see the world as God would have us see it, to see people and
communities and our planet as God sees them.
A metaphor like a new tree rising from the stump gives us access to a
regenerative theological imagination and helps us to see a God-directed future.
“Theological imagination?” you might ask. What good is that going to do for us when
we’re just struggling to make ends meet?
When we’re facing a rising tide of racism, gun violence and terrorism
around the country and around the block?
When the doctor puts her hand on my shoulder and gives me the news I was
not prepared to hear? How is theological
imagination going to help us – help me – then?
But you see, lack of imagination is precisely the problem. When we refuse to see our fellow human beings
as children of God, when we cannot see beyond a person’s gender, or skin color
or sexual orientation, or immigration status, or police record – it is a
failure of imagination. When we can no
longer imagine any solution for our conflicts that does not involve guns or
bombs – that is a failure of imagination.
When we cannot see any alternatives for our economy, and our ecology,
and our agriculture in order to create a more just way of life for people and
our planet – that is the failure of imagination. When the news about our health, or that of a
loved one, leaves us so distraught, we can barely get out of bed in the morning
– a healthy dose of theological imagination can go a long way.
I have seen this happen for one of
our own in this congregation. One of our
members has learned first-hand what it means to be cut down and be left with a
stump. The virus or bacteria or whatever
it was that struck his heart and eventually led to loss of circulation in his
leg has left him with one less limb. I
can only imagine the pain he is experiencing, the sense of loss, and the sinking
feeling of knowing that his life is changed forever. But he and his wife have told me that what
has gotten them through, in addition to the medical care he has received – has been
the love and prayers and support of their family, friends, and this
congregation. Soon he will be learning
to grow a new life out of that stump, and it will take all of us to help him,
encourage him, and lift him up in prayer.
And that, my
friends, is why you are here. It’s why
this church exists. When you look back
on the history of this church, you can see the ways in which theological imagination
sustained the members of this congregation through very difficult and trying
times. And given what we face now in a
time that is reminiscent of the exile the Israelites experienced – this is
precisely the reason why theological imagination is so important. This community, this synod, this area of
Central Pennsylvania, this world needs your imagination. And this church, United in Christ, is the
place where you can cultivate just that – a vineyard with new growth emerging
from what appears to be nothing but dead stumps. This is the place where you can encounter
God’s Word and feel its power to open up new possibilities of creativity for
your life and your community. This is
the place where you are invited to dream of ways to reach out to your neighbors,
offer hope and encouragement, work for justice, and sustain the communities
around you with saplings of faith.
Remember, Israel had been cut down to
the stump by the hands of those who sought their demise. By all counts, they were done for. But Isaiah was looking at that stump through
the eyes of theological imagination and saw a connection between human
spiritual and societal health and God’s Creation. That which was written off as
hopeless is what actually contains the seed for new life.
Slowly, much more slowly than I’m
sure they would have liked, Zion emerged as the people who would be strong. And
where does that strength come from? On the back of a suffering servant figure. While Israel did not envision such a root
coming in the form of Jesus, as Christians, we can’t help but see the
similarity in the life, death and resurrection of Christ. This means that our hope, our strength, our
renewal comes through Jesus – who is, by the way, a descendant of David’s line
– a branch of Jesse.
Now, of course, just because there is
new hope does not mean that the angels will swoop down with a chorus of
hallelujahs, and the heavens suddenly open up with rainbows and sunbeams. If you read to the end of Isaiah, you see
that he does not allow the reader to arrive at a simple solution. We can’t just
expect God to come and clean up our messes and make a happily-ever-ending for
us. We will have to be honest about the
wrongs that have been done, to be forthright about the injustices people have
suffered. And when we do discover this
new growth, it will require patience and nurturing and protection. You will not be able to make it grow faster
than it will. But you can be assured –
it will grow. And it is our theological
imagination that enables that growth to flourish.
It is
theological imagination that sparked the idea for our monthly senior center –
OAKs. We now have 50 people who have
come to our program on the second Wednesday of the month. Our society often looks at seniors as nothing
but cut-off stumps, past their prime. But
this church said, wait a minute. The
seniors of this community are still Children of God. They deserve a place where they can gather,
talk with old friends and meet new ones, share memories, laugh with each other,
share prayers and tears with each other, learn together, and grow, yes grow, in
their faith. A program like this helps
people see that we need to value our senior citizens. When I look at the folks who come to OAKs, I
see saplings rising up out of the ground.
And it’s because this church remembers them and takes action.
This image of the saplings sprouting
up out of stumps captures so well the spirit of this verse in Isaiah. It activates our theological imagination to remind
us of God’s promise that no matter how terrible the tragedy, not matter how
difficult the problem, no matter how heavy the burden, no matter how long it
takes - suffering is not the entire picture. God will persist in helping us overcome the
obstacles that prevent us from living the full, productive, peaceful, healthy
lives that we were meant to enjoy – individually, as a family of faith, as a
community, as a nation, and as a human community on this planet.
United in
Christ – you are that sapling. You are a
sign of hope for a weary world. You are
the bearer of Christ’s branch, rising out of the stump of Jesse, bringing new
life to your members, to your community, and to this world. During this Advent season, may God give you
each the gift of this theological imagination to see new growth from old
stumps. To see a future for this church
that is reaching up and out, tenderly and tenaciously. To see Christ’s hands reaching, beckoning us
into this new future with confidence, patience, and quiet, unremitting
joy. Amen.
More ideas for sermons about the Creation-Crisis can be found in my book:
And visit the website for more ideas for connecting faith and Creation:
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