Thread by @dianabutlerbass

Today is the #Advent2, the 2nd Sunday. The reading is Luke 3:1-6, a passage where the Gospel writer quotes the prophet Isaiah: "Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled & every mountain & hill made low..." Beautiful, isn't it?

You might be thinking of Handel's Messiah right now . . . Comfort ye, my people.

But you should probably be thinking about building highways.

Christians have too often spiritualized this passage -- saying that this is about preparing one's heart in advance of Jesus' coming. Years ago, in evangelical churches, I heard myriad sermons in December urging people to get born again in advance of Jesus' birth.

One such sermon still stands out in my memory. A pastor spent nearly an hour talking about the construction of roads in the ancient world.

It was the first time I ever heard about the arduous process of building highways centuries ago. Until the Romans, there weren't many roads. And usually roads were built for some political purpose -- to move armies or collect taxes.

Rulers had to send out huge contingents of servants, peasants, slaves and conquered people to build roads. Digging, leveling, rising, laying beds, moving rocks and stones.

This is why most ancient cities were established on waterways. Rivers were much better "roads" for goods and people to travel. Roads were awful to build, literally built on the backs of the poor, frightening to travel, and used for purposes that most people didn't like.

Roads were a tool of imperial power.

When Isaiah first wrote those words, he was surely thinking about Babylonian roads -- the Babylonians built roads through the wilderness for festive possessions to their gods. Not exactly something the Hebrew people approved of.

By the time of Luke, however, anyone reading the passage would have been thinking of Roman roads.

And how roads were essentially the pathway of Caesar's "glory" -- the wealth of empire, the army traveling, the rich and nobles and governors moving to newly colonized places.

You didn't really want a road. If you got a road, that meant you'd been taken over. You were in the empire. And that road symbolized the power they had and how much they could take from you.

And that road had been built by your labor. Roman enslaved you to build the way through the desert (or mountains or wherever) that would allow them to display their power and glory over you.

Now you start to get this scene: "A voice cries out: "In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord!"

Can't you hear a Roman overseer shouting at the slaves? "Work harder! Press on! Build this road for Caesar! Move every obstacle!"

The sweat, the tears, the pain of the workers. The sounds of Roman oppression, holding out the possibility that you might eat or drink if you do the work, holding out of the whip if you refuse.

Now, of course, I didn't hear that part years ago in the evangelical church. That pastor just explained how hard it was to build roads -- and how roads were essentially the path of Caesar. We were supposed to "build" our hearts to prepare it for our "caesar," Lord Jesus.

But that spiritualization takes away the deepest power of this text. For this is a text of rebellion.

Of political liberation.

John the Baptist takes these ancient words (and Israel always knew they were political) and cries out: "Prepare the way of the Lord!" He repeats the grueling imagery of clearing the path, laying the road. And then the surprise:

"And all flesh shall see the salvation of God!"

This road doesn't bring oppression. It doesn't bring a festive procession to foreign gods. It doesn't bring the army, the tax collector, or Caesar himself.

This road brings the healing of the nations, the long-expected Immanuel, God-with-Us, the lion and the lamb!

Build this road. Not because you are enslaved to build it, not because this is the road that holds us in slavery. But this road. The road we build in through the desert on which the God of Love will come and free us all.

In Isaiah, this the way that opens into a the land of milk and honey. The thirsty watered, the hungry sated, prisoners set free, rulers judged, the oppressed given life.

In Luke, the people cry out to John the Baptist and say, "How do we do this?" John says give your coat away, feed the hungry, stop cheating and extortion, don't lie.

Even tax collectors & soldiers hate Caesar's road. They come and ask "What should we do?"

You can hear the subtext: "What should we do because we are complicit? How can we be on the road of salvus (healing)?" Because really. Who wants to be a Roman tax collector or soldier?

John tells them to get off the old road.

To the tax collectors: "Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you."
Guess what? He's telling them to quit their jobs because you CAN'T be a Roman tax collector and do this. Skimming was the whole system.

To the soldiers: "Do not extort money by threats or lies and be satisfied with your wages."

Well, the actual job of Roman soldiers was to threaten and accuse falsely in order to enrich Caesar's power and wealth.

And no soldier ever thinks he or she is paid enough.

Stop preparing that way. Stop building Caesar's road. That's the wrong way. The imperial road leads to death. Always. It is the way of slavery, built by forced labor to force us all into a life of oppression.

Build the other road.

And it isn't just a road in your heart.

It is a real road.

A political road.

The road of liberation.

Through this world. Freely embrace this task to free the nations. To prepare the way for God's love and justice.

So, #Advent doesn't call us to just sit around and examine our hearts. It cries out to us to build a road in the world -- open the way so that ALL people may see the healing power of God.

What are you doing to build that road today?

Fill the ravines, bring down the mountains, untangle what is twisted, smooth what is rough.

Don't spiritualize it. Honor the prophets. Make it real in the world. Today.

A blessed second Sunday of #Advent to you.

Thanks for reading this Sunday's tweet sermon. Please forgive any typos, grammar mistakes, spelling. I write these extemporaneously, so typos do happen.