43:16-21; Psalm 126; Philippians 3:4b-14; John 12:1-8
The Rev. Drew Brislin
In the name of the One Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen
Memories are funny things. They come in a variety of forms through various mediums. Sometimes they are prompted by conversations, or maybe someone posts a picture on Facebook. Perhaps you’re driving down the road and pass a sign or a town that triggers a recollection. Sometimes, the emotions are happy or even evoke laughter. Other times, they stir up feelings of anxiousness or grief due to some kind of loss.
A couple of weeks ago, on St. Patrick’s Day, I was reminded of a couple of memories. One of them was from a camping trip I took during college. It was probably my sophomore or junior year, and a good friend of mine, who lived in Tuscaloosa, and I decided to go on a camping trip. It just so happened that it coincided with St. Patrick’s Day. It was a great trip. I’ve known this friend since kindergarten. We were in Scouts together, had our Eagle Scout Court of Honor together, played football in high school together, and even roomed together for a year. We’ve done a lot together over the years.
I always think about that trip at some point on St. Patrick’s Day, but this year I received a text from that friend asking me if I remembered it, to which I replied, “Of course!” What I remember about the trip is hanging out by the fire and telling stories. While so many things change, many things remain constant. Our capacity to pass down knowledge or recall the past through oral history continues to play an important role in society. Our reading from Isaiah this morning begins with a bit of storytelling, a remembering of the past, before it calls us to move forward.
Whenever we encounter poetry, as in our reading from Isaiah, it’s a clue that the author wants us to perceive the writing as God speaking directly. The opening provides a big clue as well: “Thus says the Lord.” God is speaking to those in exile in Babylon and speaking to the reader, reminding them of what He did in the Exodus event. He parted the waters, made a path, and then destroyed the army that pursued the Israelites with their chariots and horses.
But then God makes a shift. He tells the reader, those in exile, not to remember the former things or think about the things of old. Why would God—who has always reminded Israel of what He has done for them so that they will turn back to Him—now change the way He communicates? While those in exile in Babylon would have been familiar with the Exodus story, they probably didn’t expect to return from their displacement. Isaiah responds to their concerns by informing them that God is offering a fresh beginning. Cyrus of Persia defeats Babylon and offers those in exile an opportunity to return home. God has once again provided deliverance and a path to return.
Why has God done this? Why has He restored those in exile? Simply, so they can declare His praise. “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? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”
In our Gospel reading, Mary helps us understand what it looks like to recognize that God is constantly doing new things in the world. In Jesus, God is about to do something drastically new. Mary seems to understand this as she anoints Jesus’ feet with oil, an act normally reserved for those who have died, while Judas remains focused on the past and on material things. Mary, on the other hand, keeps us focused on the essence of what truly matters. Our Gospel reading takes us from the tomb of Lazarus to the empty tomb of Jesus. Jesus is freeing us from the shackles of looking backward, of trying to recreate what once was, to the freedom of what can be.
In our passage from Isaiah, God reminds those in exile about what He did for their ancestors during the Exodus. This is to assure them that the new thing God is doing—a new way in the wilderness, rivers in the desert—is consistent with with what He has done in the past and with His ongoing actions in the world. Those in exile who doubted God’s enduring faithfulness can no longer look to the recreation of the past as examples of divine love. Their liberation will be a new beginning, guaranteed for God’s chosen people. This liberation is not the result of freedom from hardship, but a path through it. The experience of exile and God’s faithfulness will form His people so that they will be witnesses to the Living God, who acts in the world.
Our past and our memories are a huge part of who we are. We are who we are because of these experiences. However, we are not the same person we were fifty, twenty, or even ten years ago. We are not even the same person today that we were last week. We are constantly learning and growing. I often reflect back on memories, such as that St. Patrick’s Day camping trip, and the person I was then, with no idea what my life would look like today. There have been many joyous occasions along the way, as well as some hurdles. I think many of us could describe our lives in a similar way. We are who we are because of these experiences, not in spite of them. Hopefully we are looking forward to the opportunity of tomorrow as well.
Being told not to remember the former things is not a criticism of them; rather, God is seeking to draw us into the radical newness of what He is doing in the world today. The people of Israel found renewed strength and relationship with God after the exile. Through Jesus and the cross, God did something radically different and new, and as a result, humanity was brought into a new relationship with God—one that is the result of God’s radical love for us. God is constantly doing new things.
This is the challenge for the church today: to remain open to the radical freedom of God to do a new thing. As we move toward Good Friday and the empty tomb, let us keep our hearts and minds open to the possibilities of “What if?”
Amen