Readings: Psalm 21:14-21; Isaiah 41:14-20; Romans 15:14-21

When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none,

And their tongue is parched with thirst, I the Lord will answer them,

I the God of Israel will not forsake them.

I will open rivers on the bare heights, and fountains in the midst of the valleys; 

I will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water.

Isaiah 41:17-18, NRSV

If you happen to be on the waterfront of Plymouth, Massachusetts, at low tide, look for the seagulls and pigeons on the sand. You’ll see them stretched out in a few lines, squawking and looking for all the world like they are at a party. Look closer, and you’ll see the reason: they are gathered at the freshwater streams that flow into the ocean. Visible and available only at low tide, these streams are life for the birds who are surrounded by salt water that is the home of their food source but can never quench their thirst. When low tide comes, the birds drink, bathe, and rejoice. 

The seacoast birds give me a glimpse of the joy that water (really life) is in a desert. And if that’s not a glimpse of God’s love, what is?

Readings: Isaiah 11:1-10; Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19; Romans 15:4-13; Matthew 3:1-12

A shoot shall come out of the stump of Jesse, and a branch grow out of his roots.

The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.

His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord. He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear; but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth.

He shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked. Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist, and faithfulness the belt around his loins.

The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.

The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.

They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.

On that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious. Isaiah 11:1-10, NRSV

Idyllic: the world of Isaiah’s vision. The meek and poor find justice, and the predator and prey are predator and prey no longer. The wicked are killed – or at least what was wicked in them dies and leaves in its place love. It seems like the chasm between our current world and Isaiah’s peaceful kingdom will never be spanned, no bridge built to take us from here to there. Except that it starts and ends with Jesse, an imperfect and perfectly loved child of God. Just like us.

At its heart, Isaiah’s world is the place where we don’t live at the expense of others. We seek a just world, even when it means we have make sacrifices. Sacrifice expands the heart’s capacity to love and strengthens the spirit within us. When we mean good things for others and sacrifice to bring them to life, we take a step toward Isaiah’s world. Take enough steps, and that chasm just might be spanned.

Readings: Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19; Isaiah 30:19-26; Acts 13:16-25

Give the king your justice, O God, and your righteousness to a king’s son.

May he judge your people with righteousness, and your poor with justice.

May the mountains yield prosperity for the people, and the hills, in righteousness.

May he defend the cause of the poor of the people, give deliverance to the needy, and crush the oppressor.

May he live while the sun endures, and as long as the moon, throughout all generations.

May he be like rain that falls on the mown grass, like showers that water the earth.

In his days may righteousness flourish and peace abound, until the moon is no more…

Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, who alone does wondrous things.

Blessed be his glorious name forever; may his glory fill the whole earth. Amen and Amen.

This psalm of Solomon is an admission that ruling with wisdom and compassion is not sustainable without God’s presence and guidance. Solomon knows that he does not have the strength to rule God’s beloved children out of his own resources; he must draw on God’s well of compassion and wisdom if he is to exercise his power without losing his soul. The king’s rule is measured by how communal life for the most vulnerable is blessed, not by how much wealth he attains.

None of us will be ruling an ancient civilization any time soon. Most of us don’t hold the power of life and death in our hands, and we do not make or enforce the laws of our society. But each of us has power – the power to nourish the life of this world we call our own. When we call on God’s strength and compassion, we can use our power wisely – and be nourished in mind and spirit through it all.

Readings: Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19; Isaiah 4:2-6; Acts 1:12-17, 21-26

Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a sabbath day’s journey away. When they had entered the city, they went to the room upstairs where they were staying, Peter, and John, and James, and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James. All these were constantly devoting themselves to prayer, together with certain women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, as well as his brothers.

In those days Peter stood among the believers (together with the crowd numbered about one hundred and twenty persons) and said, “Friends, the scripture had to be fulfilled, which the Holy Spirit through David foretold concerning Judas, who became a guide for those who arrested Jesus – For he was numbered among us and was allotted his share in this ministry.”

So one of the men who have accompanied us during all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the baptism of John until the day when he was taken up from us – one of these must become a witness with us to his resurrection.” So they proposed two, Joseph called Barsabbas, who was also known as Justus, and Matthias. Then they prayed and said, “Lord, you know everyone’s heart. Show us which one of these two you have chosen to take the place in this ministry and apostleship from which Judas turned aside to go to his own place. And they cast lots for them, and the lot fell on Matthias; and he was added to the eleven apostles. Acts 1:12-17, 22-26, NRSV

There came a time when Judas Iscariot, having given up his life on the Field of Blood, needed to be replaced among the ranks of the apostles. There were only eleven of them. They wanted an even dozen. Peter, always the emboldened one, put forth the names of two men:Joseph (Barsabbas) and Matthias. After having prayed about the matter, the group agreed on the selection process. They would cast lots, which is akin to drawing straws.

WAIT…WHAT? This is the apostleship we’re talking about! Are they just going to gamble on it? Shouldn’t they conduct interviews? Stage a debate? Maybe hold an apostle’s decathlon? At the very least, shouldn’t they vote? Nope. The next apostle was going to be chosen by a game of pure chance. Well, you may remember the outcome. Matthias won and was granted entry into that esteemed circle.

Now, pardon my impertinence, but it seems to me that Jesus might have granted both gentlemen entry into the club – along with their wives (We know Jesus’ feeling about exclusion. It was an equal protection issue for him.).

So why this obsession with the number 12? Yes, I know Jesus himself chose 12 disciples. But he also appointed a different, much larger group of persons (70 or so) to spread the news. I can’t help but wonder why they were so intent at keeping their number at a dozen. Was it because that’s the way it had always been? Or did it have something to do with the 12 sons of Jacob? Or 12 as a covenantal number? Did these people really think that deeply about numerology?

And what of poor Joseph? Did he need to seek counseling to reconcile his hurt over this slight in favor of Matthias? Or maybe, just maybe, Joseph was secretly relieved not to have been chosen?

Such questions are, of course, unanswerable. It’s probably better not to have all the answers. Socrates didn’t like answers very much, at least not the surface variety. He spent most of his life asking questions and little else.

Mary Oliver wrote a poem about that entitled The Man Who Has Many Answers:

The man who has many answers

is often found

in the theaters of information

Where he offers, graciously

His deep findings.

While the man who has only questions,

to comfort himself, makes music.

Offered by Bryan Fredrickson, child of God.