Sermon by Herman Kauffman
LaPorte Church of the Brethren
February 23, 2003

A New World Coming⁽¹⁾
Isaiah 43:18-25
2 Corinthians 1:18-20

Cass Elliot was the lead singer of a 1960s rock and roll group called The Mamas and the Papas. After she left the group, one of her first solo attempts was a song that went something like this:

"There's a new world coming, and it's just around the bend,
there's a new world coming, this one's coming to an end.
There's a new day dawning, you can see it if you try...."

This song was a commentary on the tumultuous decade of the 60s. It was a decade that saw the assassination of not only a president, but a president's brother, as well as a national civil rights leader. It was a decade that included lunar landings and napalm bombings. It was a decade of people rioting in the streets. It truly appeared as if the world as people knew it was coming to an end, and that there certainly was a new day that was about to dawn.

The world in which we live seems so far removed from the decade of the sixties ... or does it? The national tragedy of September 11, 2001 still remains fresh in our memories. American troops remain in Afghanistan even as war in Iraq looms on the horizon. The Palestinians and Israelis continue to clash over the West Bank. On top of it all, the newly created Department of Homeland Security periodically issues what it calls "real and credible threats." The old question, "What's this world coming to?" seems to have its answer in an echo from another time: "This one's coming to an end."

The cries remain the same across the generations and across the decades, pointing to the transitory nature of our mortal existence. All things do pass away. Acknowledging this causes pervading anxiety in our time. It overshadows us with fear. We as a society don't quite know what to do about it. Some of us have sought refuge in our work. Others have gone from relationship to relationship seeking that which might pacify. Still others have chosen alcohol or drugs - drugs that are controlled or drugs that are prescribed. As a people, we avoid the admission of what our ancestors knew all too well: all things must pass away.

The writer of Ecclesiastes reminds us:
"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance; ...
A time for war, and a time for peace.

In a story titled, The Aqueduct⁽²⁾, John Sumwalt tells that years ago there was an aqueduct that brought fresh water into the center of a certain village, all the way from the lake near the top of the mountain. It had been carefully constructed so that gravity carried the water even over steep inclines and around sharp bends. The man who built the aqueduct was very wise and had devoted his entire life to its completion. Now all that remained of the ancient waterway were a few weathered pillars here and there along the path.

Women told this story to their children as they followed the path up the mountain to fetch water from the lake.
Some of the women said that they could remember their grandmothers telling of a time when water flowed directly into the village. But for as long as any of them could remember, women had climbed the mountain daily to get fresh water for their families. "What happened to the aqueduct?" the children would always ask. And the answer was always the same. "It was destroyed many years ago in a war with another village."

The story was told for generations, as women trudged up and down the mountain carrying heavy jars of water on their heads and in their hands, until at last a young woman named Esther declared that she would rebuild the aqueduct. Everyone laughed at her. "It can't be done," they said. [Now, to shorten a longer story, let me summarize to say that while it eventually took 15 long years, Esther drew up a plan and recruited workers who worked hard until the aqueduct was completed and fresh water again flowed into the village.]

The aqueduct served the village for many years, until the time came when no one remembered when water had been carried by head and hand. It never occurred to them, when war broke out with a village on the other side of the mountain, that the aqueduct might be destroyed, or what it would mean to live without it. If they had known, they might have guarded the aqueduct more carefully, or perhaps they would have chosen not to go to war at all. This became part of the story that the women told their children, after the war was over, as they trudged up the mountain every day to fetch fresh water for their families. "What happened to the aqueduct?" the children asked. And the answer was always the same.

So it was in the days of Israel as they lived in exile, the devastating effect of war. In the preceding chapter, Isaiah is appalled - not so much that Israel is in exile - but that the people who had ears to hear did not listen. Isaiah asks the people, quite pointedly, will they now give heed to the future. Will they listen with discernment to their history and the revelation of God that transcends the darkness of the present hour?

It was with this background that the prophet Isaiah proclaimed the message we read this morning. The old definitely had passed away. Judah languished in exile in Babylon. Judah's northern cousin Israel had been swallowed up by Assyria. Gone were the glory years. Gone was the dynasty created by David and Solomon, the era when the United Kingdom of Israel had been called to be a light to the nations. Those years had passed away.

From the depths of exile, Isaiah acknowledged the transitory nature of all to which Judah had clung. Instead of relying on God and God's strength, the people of Israel had focused on their own strengths, their own abilities, and their own accomplishments. That's what made exile so difficult for them. Everything that those children of Israel had trusted had been vanquished. It seemingly had disappeared.

It is from the depths of this exile that the prophet Isaiah speaks. He speaks of a new day when the exiles will return to Judea. He paints a picture of harmony in which even the wild animals will honor God. He pictures a new Eden. And as he does, Isaiah reminds Israel that the new day includes God's renewal of the covenant, the promise that God gave to Abraham, to David, and to Solomon that God would be their God, and they indeed would be God's people. Strengthened by that promise, these children of Israel no longer had to cling to their past, but they could look confidently into the future. They could trust that this new day meant that they would be restored to the land that they loved. And, like in the story of the aqueduct, waters would again flow into the desert bringing fresh water for drinking to God's people. And God's people would once again have the opportunity to praise and serve the God who loved them with an everlasting love.

Perhaps these exiled children of Israel were experiencing the same fears and anxieties that we experience in our seemingly different age and time. We, who have the privilege of living in one of the richest and most powerful nations in the history of humankind, have now been forced to ask those same questions that the people of Israel asked. Did we not believe that we were the favored ones? Didn't our ancestors fight to preserve the freedoms that we have, firmly convinced that God was on our side? Haven't we talked about the ways in which God has blessed us with prosperity as well as freedom?

Now, 3 years into this new millennium, we are confronted every day by newspaper and television of the changing nature of our world and our very lives. We live in a world where we now realize that the elements of mass destruction that we possess could be turned on us. Today, it seems all too likely that this old world is in danger of passing away. But, even as we face that reality, the words of Isaiah offer us comfort and hope, if we have ears to hear.

The same God who said, "I am about to do a new thing" (Isaiah 43:19), has done a new thing for us in Jesus Christ. Jesus is the sign and the seal of God's renewed covenant with us, the children of God. And as the Apostle Paul writes of Jesus to the Corinthian Church, "...in him every one of God's promises is a 'Yes.'" Jesus is the sign of God's new covenant with us. Revelation 21 reminds us that Jesus has prepared the way for us to be with God in the new heaven and the new earth where God will be our God and we will be God's people.

Through Jesus' death and resurrection, he has ushered in a new kingdom and a new day - a new day of hope. He has given to us the reassurance that no matter what happens to us, no matter what warnings are issued by the Department of Homeland Security, our future with our God remains secure. The new day about which the prophet Isaiah wrote is ours today through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Though the life of this congregation is in a state of transition, though our own lives are in a constant state of change, though the old world around us seems to be in a state of death; we can look to the future, not knowing what it holds, but trusting and believing in the God who holds our future and who says to us, "I am with you always, to the end of the age." [Matt. 28:20]

From the Prophet Isaiah comes these words of hope:Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old.
I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?

And from the Apostle Paul comes the Good News of Jesus Christ:

For in him every one of God's promises is a "Yes!"
For this reason it is through him that we say "Amen!" to the glory of God.

I began with the words of a "Song of the Sixties" about a new world coming and a new day dawning. It was a song that grew out of, and was indeed a commentary, on that tumultuous decade. Let me close with the words of Steve Engle found on page 323 of our hymnal. The words are words of faith and hope growing out of the 21^st chapter of Revelation.

Beyond a dying sun I saw a vision of the sea
of golden sails full billowed on the wind.
And echoing above the waves, a voice called after me,
God's dwelling place is with you till the end.

For God at last shall wipe away the tears from every eye.
The sting of death shall pierce the heart no more.
When grieving turns to laughter all the pain from us shall fly,
And former ways lie bleached upon the shore.

Though hatred rages on the wind and wars defile the land,
I see those golden sails still coming strong,
for through the eyes of faith still shines the vision of the Lamb,
and o'er a weary earth there rings this song.

I see a new world coming when everyone is free!
And all shall be God's people in justice, love and peace.

Endnotes:

1. Portions of this sermon are adapted from "A New Day," John Bucka, The Clergy Journal, Nov/Dec 2002

2. Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit, by John Sumwalt and Jo Perry-Sumwalt, CSS Publishing, 1996.