The Uncomfortable Comforter

sermon by Carrie Eikler
Psalm 85:1-3, Isaiah 40:1-11
Advent 2

Last week we entered into the season of Advent by exploring the hidden face of God, the places where God seems absent and yet somehow, strangely present. I've thought a lot about that image as we enter into the season of expectant waiting for the Christ-child. I myself am waiting, at times quite anxiously, for the birth of my own child that is strangely hidden from me, yet actually--physically--a part of me. You can't get much closer than the little boy in my womb, but I still must wait for his hidden features to be revealed.

This week we encounter God who is calls to comfort the people. After some of the prophet Isaiah's words in the past few weeks, we certainly need a bit of comforting. Let me recall some of these words - "you were angry and we sinned"…"There is no one who calls on your name, or attempts to take hold of you; for you have hidden your face from us, and have delivered us into the hand of our iniquity." Not so cheery.

Today, however, we are greeted with the words "Comfort, comfort o my people!" and we likely want to sigh and say "yes! This is the God I want during the holiday season. Tidings of comfort and joy and all that." But as is often the case with prophets who speak God's words, even with Jesus who is the Great Comforter among us, words of comfort aren't necessarily…comfortable.

It is true, our text today bookends nicely with comforting images. "Comfort, comfort oh my people" rings nicely with the final verse of today's reading, "He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep."

But who can really feel warm and fuzzy with the words in-between? "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…A voice says, "Cry out!" And I said, "What shall I cry?" All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the LORD blows upon it; surely the people are grass."

Granted, there is no smiting, or vengeance, or fire, thank goodness. But what is here that may make some us uncomfortable with this comforting God?

What images of God bring you comfort?

It may be the white bearded male figure that dominates Western Christianity. And that's OK. But it doesn't have to be that. It might be more like a source of light that surrounds you, no human characteristic at all, and that's OK, too. As I was thinking about the God of comfort that seems to be present in Isaiah's text today, I pictured God the comforter like an African American woman bellowing out civil rights songs. In particular, I pictured the singer Odetta who died on Tuesday at the age of 75.

Born in Alabama, Odetta moved to LA when she was 3. She was classically trained and was preparing to be an opera singer when she found herself drawn to the San Francisco bohemian life of a coffeehouse performer. After that she fell in love with folk songs, and brought a powerful voice to the civil rights movement that melded African American spirituals with blues with folk with gospel with the politics of the day.

And if you have ever heard Odetta, you know that God is in her voice. It can make you weep without knowing if you're sad or happy. It can make you stand up for a cause and then knock you back down again if you start to get to cocky. It can draw you into her embrace singing "we will overcome" and then release you into the throws of police dogs singing "the times they are a-changing" as you are forced to encounter the question "which side are you on?"

This week, in this text as portrayed by Isaiah, the God of comfort for me is like Odetta. She's not like the comforting grandma on the porch you go to when you skin your knee, hoping she'll give you a kiss and some apple pie to make it all better. She's the grandma who will sit you on the edge of the bathtub, pour the alcohol on the wound, bandage it, give you a hug and pat your rump as she says, "now, try to climb that tree again…and be careful this time. They'll be pie later". Because she knows that's what needs to be done for your body, and your spirit.

So maybe the uncomfortable comfort that Odetta shared with the God in Isaiah, and especially that uncomfortable comfort that Jesus Christ brings, is that it is genuine comfort.

False comfort that tries to cover everything up and make it alright. Genuine comfort lives in the reality of what is and seeks to make a path through.

False comfort says that pain can all go away. Genuine comfort recognizes that pain will never go away in this imperfect world, because there's always more that can come our way.

False comfort says close your eyes to what is going on and forget about it. Genuine comfort says open your eyes and live in the hope that even in the midst of difficulties, we will overcome .

But what I feel most exemplifies this genuine comfort is that it always begins in truth. Isaiah spoke the truth about the corruption of his people and God responded. Odetta spoke truth about social evils and the people woke up. Jesus speaks truth about our shattered souls and we can find healing. It's the truth that hurts, as the saying goes. But it is truth while it may sting like alcohol on a wound, that is necessary to heal and for us to be whole. And it is the promise that we can be whole beings, not just patched over wounds, in God's sight that is the real comfort. Comfort, comfort O my people.

O my people. There's another rub of this uncomfortable comforter, and maybe why we read these comforting word with a skeptical ear. It doesn't sound like the personal comfort we want to encounter…that comfort that is all about me, my distress, my dis-ease. Isaiah is not speaking of a comfort that is hand picked for each of our woes. Isaiah speaks to the people, not to individual circumstances.

It’s a reminder that while God is present to comfort each of us, at times the comforting God gives words that a community that needs to find comfort together. And this involves the very uncomfortable task of putting aside each of their personal discomforts and frustrations and focusing on the truth that needs to come to them as a people.

Today as we prepare to welcome new individuals into our community through membership we commit to being God's face of comfort to them. As they commit to being faithful partners with us , they bring to us new and fresh words from their journey that may challenge us as a people. As we join together in the community of faith, new members and old members, we recognize that God's word of comfort and challenge is still alive and well, as it always should be.

Comfort, comfort o my people. It can sting like a wound when we recognize there is more to God's comfort than just what we want out of it. When we are first faced with the truth that in God's eyes we are more than just individuals, but part of God's people, it may seem strangely lonely. But it is because we come to God as a people, together, that God blesses us with genuine comfort--comfort that comes from God, through the hands and hearts of one another.