Getting in the Fight

Isaiah 50:4-9

By the Waters of Babylon Evelyn De Morgan

Today’s reading, is the third of four songs or poems found in Isaiah, known as the “servant songs”. 

Although we rarely preach on these texts, we read them at times like Holy Week, as we are preparing to recount the crucifixion of our Lord. 

These poems tell the story of a servant who is selected and prepares to be the mouthpiece of God’s Word to the entire world. 

But it is a world that has changed. 

The four songs are written in the midst of defeat. 

The nation of Israel is crushed by the Babylonian empire, 

An ancient near eastern superpower led by, what many historians see as a brutal fanatic who thought he himself was a god, Nebuchadenezzar. 

The defeat of Israel is a crushing blow which destroys the political, military, and religious identity of Israel. 

A military campaign so shockingly brutal, that it is any wonder we avoid preaching, teaching, or even talking about these texts,  texts that we only dust off during particular times of the year. 

We don’t like to talk about the type of violence, anger, pain, barbarism and brutality that occurred during this historical event. 

And this third servant song is only a precursor to the fourth servant song which describes the servant as “so marred beyond human semblance, and his form beyond that of mortals- that he will startle many nations; kings so shocked by his appearance that they shall shut their mouths because of him” 

A servant so scarred by the brutality he endures, that even his corpse will not be recognizable. 

If your imagination is taking you to places you don’t want to go, please, let your imagination go because that is what these songs, these poems, attempt to evoke. 

And most people do not want to engage these thoughts or confront this image. 

But why? Why would we, the followers of the Christ be so timid when it comes to the reality of a violent world that surrounds us?

And if we are unwilling to face the violence of an event that occurred over 2,500 years ago, then how can we face the brutality of the world that we live in today?

Almost 15 years ago, when the attacks on the World Trade Center occurred, there was hardly an empty pew in this nation. 

But a year after the tragic event, church attendance began to decline in our country. 

Many claimed they saw this decline for years prior to the attacks but few could explain how the decline began to magnify. 

We have poured money into studies and research to explain this phenomenon.

We have attempted to change our denominational identities to appeal to those leaving,

but when it comes to suffering and violence let me just ask you one question?

When is the last time we found ourselves on the front lines of suffering, pain, violence, and the ugliness of the world that we check at those doors before we settle in for worship on Sundays?

Shotgun, Third Ward #1 John Biggers

Because we think we are called to check it at the door.

A parishioner approached a pastor on Easter morning a few years ago. 

When the Easter sunrise service had concluded she told him that she was sorry she wasn’t there for Good Friday, but that she had had a hard week and didn’t think she could get through Good Friday worship without crying. 

The Pastor stood shocked, grasping her hand, looking deeply into her eyes and said to her with the utmost sincerity,

“I am so sorry. If you feel you cannot be here in your pain, then I have failed you. If you cannot cry here, where else can you go to cry?”

Sisters and brothers, we love the resurrection, we love Easter,

but we cannot have resurrection without death, we cannot have Easter without Good Friday. 

The servant’s beating and humiliation is not just a description of a man, but a nation. 

A nation of people, chosen by God to be the mouthpiece of hope to the world. 

A nation who now lives in squalor, wandering a foreign land, uncertain of their next meal, their next place to lay their heads. 

A nation uncertain of where their children may be, or if their children and loved ones are even still alive. 

A nation who, now, not only questions their own role as a chosen people, but question the very existence of the God who supposedly selected them to be chosen in the first place. 

A nation contemplating if their religion is even relevant in the new world they find themselves wandering, as they sit by the waters of Babylon weeping. 

Sound familiar?

A religion that is no longer catchy enough?

A mere superstition that has lost its edge?

But the servant takes an approach that we don’t seem to find as appealing as budget strategies, catchy gimmicks, and programatic innovations that we often hope will change the face of the Christian church.

The servant looks beyond himself to an external hope, 

Not only sustaining the weary with God’s word but sustaining himself with a word that is not his own. 

Sustaining himself with nothing more than a promise that God will be there, somewhere. 

Taking confidence in the promise that God is near and that God will be his advocate. 

But why subject himself to such abuse?

Exposing his back and cheeks to abuse and humiliation, isn’t he just asking for it?

Over the past few years I have read many articles and heard many conversations about the war on Christianity, claims that Christianity is under attack. 

And while some of these claims have been made in light of particular acts of violence against practicing christians abroad, I cannot say that I have directly suffered for my faith. 

It isn’t because I haven’t traveled to these places. It isn’t because I have hidden my faith, but I certainly do know how, when, and where to pick a fight. 

And maybe I should stop taking that for granted, maybe we all should. 

Because we cannot claim to suffer for our faith from the recliners of our living rooms. 

We can’t claim to suffer for our faith from the comfort of the places we worship. 

We can’t even claim that we are in the fight at all, if our faith is nothing more than a ticket used to pick up the suffering that we checked at the door, like a coat, as we entered into worship. 

Our suffering should come into these places where we worship and our faith should go back out those doors into the world. 

Imagine a world where the Word of God was used as a reference tool as often as our phones?

Imagine a world where faith is more than a fish sticker on the bumper of a car or a tool for political endorsement?

Today, if you stand at the Dome of the Rock -the location where the temple once stood in Jersalem-

looking out over the Kidron Valley which lies between the Mount of Olives and the Temple Mount. 

Jesus enters Jerusalem and 

the crowds welcome him 

Pietro Lorenzetti

You can still see a path from Bethany, down the steep hillside where Jesus had ridden the colt into Jerusalem. 

Those who were at the temple the day Jesus rode into town would have clearly seen him riding down that hillside and witnessed the commotion it would have caused;  Jesus riding the colt announcing his role, announcing his authority, and ensuring his death. 

He could have come into Jerusalem quietly, he could have avoided making a scene at the tables where money and sacrifices were exchanged, he could have snuck out of town, he could have betrayed Judas rather than allowing himself to be betrayed by Judas. 

But instead, Jesus decided to pick a fight he cannot win, he will not win, he doesn’t want to win, at least not in the way we think of as winning.
~

I grew up watching the Rocky genre. 

Those who have watched these movies over the years can attest to the fact that once you get past Rocky IV, the movies took a turn for the worse. 

Although the movies became a bit less enjoyable, as a true fan, I couldn’t help myself. 

So this past year, I bit the bullet and watched the latest installment Creed. 

The movie follows the son of his best friend and adversary from the first two movies, Apollo. 

Apollo’s son, Adonis, uses the name Johnson and pursues a career as a fighter. 

Throughout the movie, Adonis attempts to conceal his identity as Apollo’s son, only using his kinship once to pull Rocky into his corner to train him. 

It would have been far easier for him to embrace his family name. 

He finds that the name could bring him wealth, success, and recognition but instead he steps into the ring - alone. 

At the conclusion of the movie, beaten and battered, he stands before the crowd defeated and announces before the crowd that is now chanting his name, that he is Adonis Creed. 

Throughout the story of Jesus, our Lord comes to the crowd who challenges him to admit to his title as the Christ. 

But it is only in his earthly defeat that his title is recognized, and it is recognized by a soldier of the very empire that has struck the final blow. 

Jesus, much like the servant in Isaiah, submits to the abuse and humiliation knowing that his advocate; God, will declare his innocence. 

In that moment his innocence will be recognized by his accuser, but the accusers will face the reality that the God who they themselves have cried out to, now hangs on the tree. 

And he was put there by their very own hands!

The story of Jesus and the song of the suffering servant is not a story that invites us to avoid the fight. 

It isn’t a story that invites us to hand our crosses over to Jesus or the servant.

It is a story that invites us to carry the cross WITH the Christ,

Entering into the ring, proudly bearing the name we were given at the waters of our baptisms with our faces like flint, confident in the Word, confident in our advocate, confident that in that Word we can never be put to shame. 

Amen

Perseverance Michelle McSpadden