I want a world like that - the one Isaiah 2 describes - where tools of extraction and weapons of destruction are turned into implements of growth and prosperity for all - and I think many others do as well. It was a hopeful vision at the time to the people of Judah and it’s a hopeful vision for us now. In both settings, a seemingly unstoppable force with inescapable consequences is ravaging its way through the world. There have been preludes to its impact, destruction of the less privileged, more vulnerable, or unlucky from afar, maybe a few witnesses here or there to speak to it, but largely we are stuck in fearful anticipation, waiting for the dam to break and the coming flood, so to speak. And yet, in this terrified waiting, someone dares to speak a word of hope.

It feels like wishful thinking, this word of hope spoken to an anxious world. In Isaiah’s own time, no single force could oppose the tide of Assyrian warriors in their march of destruction across the land. Not Israel, definitely not Judah, and not even the former powerhouse of Egypt. In our own time, we know climate change cannot be halted (much less reversed) by any one person, and many have been frustrated in attempts to form meaningful collective action. Not to mention, periodic news of, previously unheard of, devastating feedback loops makes any meaningful action seem all but impossible and far too late. Can we really believe in a hope for the future when all the news and noise tells us to despair? And how can we get others to believe and act for it?

It’s hard not to get frustrated by the world. Those of us with eyes to see and ears to listen know what the scientists and ecologists say. We are fast outpacing and overusing the gifts given to us on this planet. We know this, we do our best to amplify and enhance their message, to be examples in our own lives by recycling and living below our means, and yet the world at large seems not to hear or care. Our lone words and actions seem not to be enough. Like Isaiah and the other prophets, we see what’s coming but are powerless to change our course.

It’s fitting, then, that this is what greets us at the beginning of the lectionary year and full 3-year cycle. In this time of frustration, fractured community values, and near despair, this Word comes to us and reminds us of something important. You do not have the power to change hearts and minds, you do not have the power to force people to see the impact of their choices, you do not have the power to fix the systems and corporations that are polluting our waters and killing our lands. At least not alone. But it’s not up to you alone.

The people in this proclamation of Isaiah, who will turn tools of death into implements of earth stewardship, do so not because their king made them nor because they heard Isaiah shouting and repented but because they went to the House of the Lord. They heard the Word and the Word changed them. Perhaps, the most challenging thing about these texts for the week is not that they present an impossible image of hope for the future, but that they tell us that this future coming true does not hinge on us and our own individual actions, but on a people that heard the Good News. In other words, evangelism might be a key part of that vision coming to pass. Our task is to call people together to this House, so that we may all be changed by the Word.

Calling people together starts with declaring this hopeful image. What environmental and ecological problems are facing your community that can be united around? Could toxic waterway quality be improved to where you can drink from the streams? Could the smelly, carcinogenic, town dump be cleaned up and recycled? Could empty dirt lots be filled with wildflowers and trees? Could people who feel alone and scared about climate change find a place to hear and know that others care? What vision of hope in your direct area do your people need?

Maybe you’ve already been doing this work, and are still feeling discouraged, disappointed, and despair. No one seems to be listening and we are still a long way off from the vision of Isaiah. Perhaps your hope can lie not in an escape from our path, but the trust that things will change and life will go on. Despite the peaceful image of Isaiah 2, the other early chapters of Isaiah make clear that destruction is coming and cannot be avoided. Israel and Judah had broken their relationship with God, and although that relationship was one day mended, they still experienced the results of their actions in the collapse of their states. If you can’t see hope in our current systems, can you find hope in their collapse?

It may very well be that, for our hopes to come true, there needs to be some destruction before creation. We as Christians know this; in the moment of our baptism, we are joined in Christ’s death that we may be made alive. It is through this end of our old selves that we live like Romans 13 exhorts us to. The end of these old, extractive, harmful ways of life needs to occur so that something better takes its place. If this is the good news that your community needs to hear, then I invite you to, with caution and care, share this message as hope too.

Regardless of what path your hopeful visions of the future take, we are, for all the frustrating truth behind it, just doing what we can to declare this better future, and to be ready for it. The practice of vigil keeping is not something I know much of anything about, but it’s a key that the gospel text emphasizes. It seems like some features of it are holding onto our hopeful vision, sharing the Good News with others, and patterning our lives as Spirit led. So let’s declare hope over and over again, not knowing when the Word will finally grip people, but trusting that it will do so. It will never be the result of our own actions that our hope comes true, but we can, by the grace of God, live together with others like it already has come.

Musical Suggestions:

-       ELW 711 O day of peace

-       ELW 713 O God of every nation

-       ELW 252 Each Winter As the Year Grows Older