“Not your typical Christmas dinner” (Full Service)
Sermon starts at 31:04
“Not your typical Christmas dinner”
Scripture: Isaiah 25:6-10a
I expect we all have our own ideas about what a proper Christmas dinner should look like. Just think about how the whining and complaining begins if that “certain dish” is not there! And that can vary hugely from family to family, and tradition to tradition. Some families have to have a turkey. Others do a ham. My brother-in-law, Shawn, has occasionally cooked a tur-duck-en – which is a chicken, inside a duck, inside a turkey – but he’s the adventurous one. But, for some in our family, it’s this marshmallow salad that they come looking for. For me, as long as there’s some fruit cake or mincemeat on the table, I’m good. But pulling that meal together – whatever it might look like – is always a huge amount of work, and I’m deeply appreciative of all those who put in that effort.
Now, all that planning and preparation that so many families and family members do also mirrors what we read about in Isaiah 25. There, we hear from the prophet that the Lord himself is preparing a festive feast of his own…
Now, the passage begins, not with a reference to dinner, but with the words “On this mountain…” Now, when you and I think of mountains, what we probably picture are the Austrian Alps from The Sound of Music, or the Canadian Rockies if we’ve had the chance to go out west, or some scene from a Colorado-based Christmas rom-com. But Isael only has one mountain that even comes close to that kind of mental picture, and that’s Mt. Hermon in the far north, right where the borders of Israel, Lebanon and Syria all come together. But that’s not the mountain that Isaiah is talking about.
The mountain that Isaiah is speaking about does occasionally get snow, but not all that often – and certainly not like any of our Ontario mountains, such as Blue Mountain or Mt. St. Louis. But this mountain is definitely the one that dominated the hearts and minds of ancient Israel.
One of its names is Mt. Moriah, where Abraham was called to sacrifice Isaac, but then the Lord provided a substitute (Genesis 22). It’s the place that, centuries later, was designated by the Lord as the dwelling place of his name (Deuteronomy 12). It’s the place that the Lord appeared to David, and where David’s son, Solomon, went on the build the first Temple (2 Chronicles 3:1). It’s the place spoken of by the prophet Malachi, who wrote that the Lord, whom the people were so desperately seeking, would one day suddenly appear in that Temple. It’s the place where, as an infant, Jesus would be brought, after the appointed time of purification, to be presented to Lord according to the law of Moses (Luke 2). And it’s where he would appear again, years later, having been welcomed by the crowds as the one who comes in the name of Lord. Today, that mountain is what many people call the Temple Mount. It’s Mt. Zion. It’s Jerusalem itself. That’s the mountain that Isaiah is writing about…
And that’s where this festive feast that the Lord is preparing is going to be served. And what a feast it’s going to be!
Again, how we imagine that meal may differ, but Isaiah describes it as a banquet of rich food, choice cuts of meat, vintage wine. His description reminds me of Richard Attenborough’s character in Jurassic Park, John Hammond, who was so found of saying “We spared no expense!”
But even as festive specials go, this meal that the Lord is preparing stands out as something special. This is no simple family gathering. And it goes way beyond any church dinner or wedding reception you’ve ever attended. In fact, this will be a celebration like no other – because what this feast will be celebrating is nothing less than the destruction of death: “And he will destroy on this mountain the shroud that is cast over all peoples, the sheet that is spread over all nations; he will swallow up death forever.”
Now I don’t know about you, but what I’ve found is that our celebrations of Christmas are frequently nostalgic in their focus. That is, they usually have us looking back – back to Christmases we’ve celebrated in the past, the ones that created all the memories that we’re often so focussed on recapturing, or recreating, as we celebrate again. Around our place, there are certain things that get done in exactly the same way every year, and decorations that go in exactly the same place. For example, those ornaments which our kids made in school all get brought out once again, to the kids’ great embarrassment. There’s even the annual “argument” over where the little dog goes in our miniature Christmas village -- and now that our grandson, Ellis, helps with setting up the village, we’ve added yet another generation to the “debate”…
Of course, those of us who know that the first Christmas gift wasn’t given by Santa find ourselves looking back even further – to that very first Christmas, when a stable became a maternity ward, and God’s promised salvation became incarnate in the person of Mary’s son.
But Isaiah reminds us here that Christmas also has a future focus. In other words, there are parts of God’s promise that are yet to be fulfilled. Let’s go back to verse 7 and see again what God has promised: “On this mountain” – that is, this same mountain we’ve been talking about, the hill on which Jerusalem was built – God will destroy “the shroud that is cast over all peoples, the sheet that is spread over all nations; he will swallow up death forever.”
Now the first part of that image is actually rather terrifying. Watching the news, we’re occasionally exposed to what we might call mass-casualty events. In the aftermath of disaster, or as the casualties of war, we see rows of bodies draped in nothing but sheets. In the absence of both time and resources, there are no caskets. The deceased are, instead, treated with such dignity as is possible “in the moment”, as they would have been treated long ago. They are covered with a shroud…
But what Isaiah sees, and what Isaiah knows, is that there is a shroud that covers not just one person, but all people. There is a sheet that is spread over all nations. Not just over the tens of thousands who have died in Earth’s most recent conflicts, but over the billions who call this planet home. This is a universal shroud, a universal fate. Just as the Ghost of Christmas yet to Come showed Ebeneezer Scrooge his own grave, so Isaiah’s image of the shroud comes as a reminder that the same end awaits us all.
And that may seem like a morbid thing to focus on just a week before Christmas. But Isaiah only includes that graphic image as a way of helping us see how good the good news really is. Because, what the Lord has promised, and what this festive feast he’s preparing will celebrate, is that this universal shroud – this pall that hangs over us all – is to be destroyed. No more sheet draped corpses. No more standing in cemeteries, or silently watching as funeral coaches drive away. No more Ghosts of Christmas yet to Come. Making it as clear as he possibly can, Isaiah simply declares, “[the Lord] will swallow up death forever.” That’s what the feast God is preparing will be about.
And, thankfully, this poor, tragic, sin-cursed earth has already witnessed the beginnings of that. And this is the reality that stands at the very centre of our faith – that, two thousand years ago, a tomb was left empty, a stone was rolled away, a shroud was left abandoned, and the victim of one of the worst deaths imaginable was, later, not only seen, and heard, and touched, but also broke bread with his friends…
And where did all this happen? It happened in Jerusalem. It happened in Zion. It happened just a stone’s throw away from that place where millennia before, God had provided a substitute for Abraham’s son – only this time the substitute was to be the Son of God himself, and not just for one life, but for countless lives, including yours and mine…
One of the ways the Scriptures refer to Jesus and his resurrection is as the first fruits. Paul calls him “the first fruits of those who have died” (1 Cor. 15:20), but what he really means by that is that Jesus is actually the first of many who will rise! Paul goes on to say, “For since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead has also come through a human being; for as all die in Adam, so will all be made alive in Christ. But each in his own order: Christ the first fruits, then at his coming those who belong to Christ. Then comes the end, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father, after he has destroyed every ruler and authority and power. For he – Jesus --must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death” (1 Cor. 15:21-26) – precisely what God’s festive feast is meant to celebrate!
But notice that what Paul is saying here is that not just the preparation, but the process itself has already started. Jesus’ resurrection has already got the ball rolling. In terms of this far from typical Christmas dinner that God is preparing, we might refer to the events of Easter, not as the first fruits, but as the appetizer. In other words, the first course of God’s bountiful banquet has already been served. And, of course, it was served precisely where he promised it would be: “On this mountain…”
And, of course, what God has planned for us includes all the trimmings and fixings as well. How could we expect anything less? Isaiah tells us that part of what God has planned is to wipe away the tears from all faces. Not surprisingly, that’s also the promise that we find towards the very end of the scriptures, in Revelation 21:4: “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more…” What that means is that, in all these years, God’s intention has not changed. What he began to do in Jesus, he will see through to completion. His intention is a new beginning, a new creation – one that is deathless, painless, tearless. Those things, Revelation says, are part of the old order of things. In God’s plan, they are destined to pass away.
Back in Isaiah, God also promises that he will take away the disgrace of his people. In Isaiah’s days, that would have meant everything that was associated with the exile in Babylon. For generations, God had warned his people that if they continued to wander away from him, they would find themselves cut off for a season – they would lose their independence and lose their home. And that’s precisely what happened. But, after a time, God restored his people to their land. They had a chance to rebuild their Temple, and restart their communal life as his people. Their time of disgrace came to an end…
For us, those words certainly contain echoes of God’s warning – that we need to remain close to him, that he cannot bless a people that does not seek his will or follow his ways. And it may be that the Church in Canada has entered into a period of exile of its own – a time to think about where we’ve come from, what we’ve surrendered, and what we’ve lost…
But, in the context of what Jesus has done for us, and what Christmas means to us, what God’s promise to remove his people’s disgrace means is that there will be a time when our continued trust in him will be vindicated. A time when it will be demonstrated to all that our waiting has not been in vain. As Isaiah himself puts it, “on that day, it will be said ‘Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us. This is the Lord for whom we have waited; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.’”
Two thousand years ago, those who met Jesus in the flesh – who experienced what I’ve called “the appetizers” – often found themselves saying something very similar. I think especially of Simeon, who was there that day when, even as an infant, the Lord suddenly appeared in his Temple. Taking the infant Jesus in his arms, Simeon said, “master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace… for my eyes have seen your salvation…” Simeon’s waiting had not been in vain. Israel’s waiting had not been in vain. Isaiah’s waiting had not been in vain. And neither will be ours. Because, on that mountain, the Lord’s festive special has already begun to be served. Jesus has already offered us a first taste, but there is so much more yet to come…
When I was at Knox College, a classmate invited Cynthia and me to his wedding. The reception was held at large Chinese restaurant near the university campus. It was different, but delicious – and we attacked each course with an appetite. What we never could have imagined though was that there would be more than a dozen courses. The food just kept on coming and coming. I’m not sure that I’ve ever been that full. But the fact is that there’s no earthly meal – no wedding reception, no Christmas dinner – that can even come close to what God has in store for his people. That’s what we’re waiting for – the day when, in the presence of Jesus, we will echo Isaiah ourselves: “This is the Lord for whom we have waited; let us be glad and rejoice.” And, as we wait for that day – for Christ’s coming, for God’s new creation, for that day when death will be swallowed up forever, there’s one thing that God asks of us -- that we wait with hope, that we wait with faith, that we wait with an appetite for the feast that he has prepared. Amen.