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| Photo of former child soldier Ishmael Beah |
Old Testament Reading: Isaiah 60:1-9
Arise,
shine; for your light has come,
and the
glory of the Lord has risen upon you.
For
darkness shall cover the earth,
and
thick darkness the peoples;
but the Lord will arise upon
you,
and his
glory will appear over you.
Nations
shall come to your light,
and kings to the brightness of your dawn.
Lift up
your eyes and look around;
they all
gather together, they come to you;
your
sons shall come from far away,
and your
daughters shall be carried on their nurses’ arms.
Then you
shall see and be radiant;
your
heart shall thrill and rejoice,
because
the abundance of the sea shall be brought to you,
the
wealth of the nations shall come to you.
A
multitude of camels shall cover you,
the
young camels of Midian and Ephah;
all
those from Sheba shall come.
They
shall bring gold and frankincense,
and
shall proclaim the praise of the Lord.
All the
flocks of Kedar shall be gathered to you,
the rams
of Nebaioth shall minister to you;
they
shall be acceptable on my altar,
and I
will glorify my glorious house.
Who are
these that fly like a cloud,
and like
doves to their windows?
For the
coastlands shall wait for me,
the
ships of Tarshish first,
to bring your children from far
away,
their
silver and gold with them,
for the
name of the Lord your God,
and for
the Holy One of Israel,
because
he has glorified you.
SERMON: “Prophets of Promise: Isaiah”
There was
once a child named Ishmael. He loved
swimming, dancing to hip hop music with his friends and playing with his
slingshot. He was a gentle, kind boy. But Ishmael lived in Sierra Leone, where
civil war’s rampage was destroying all that was gentle and kind.
One day
while in a nearby town listening to music with friends, Ishmael’s home village
was attacked by boys close to his age – twelve – wielding AK-47’s and calling
themselves “The Army” or “Freedom Fighters.”
He never found his family again.
He evaded
the brutal forced recruitment of the rebels, living a desperate and starved
existence, but at the age of thirteen, he was found. Forced to kill, emotionally brainwashed and
intentionally drugged until he was dependent, he became what he described as “a
monster.” He spent two years bringing
the same horror to villages that had been brought on his own. He was fifteen.
But one
day, some volunteers from UNICEF came to his rebel camp. They negotiated with the “Lieutenant” of the
rebels for the release of fifteen boys to be rehabilitated and educated. Ishmael was one of them. He recalls the first day at the center where
they were fed, given “civilian” clothing and cared for.
Violence
immediately erupted between different factions, and he explained UNICEF’s fatal
mistake that day, “It hadn’t crossed their mind that a change of environment
wouldn’t immediately make us normal boys; we were dangerous, and brainwashed to
kill.”
But
eventually, the pieces of Ishmael’s soul began to return. He developed an affinity for Shakespeare and
made deep, trusting friendships. But
still, he had no family. Until one
day. He tells of that day in his own
words, saying,
“A tall
man walked in. He had a wide, genuine
smile that made his face look like a little boy’s. His hands were long and he looked directly at
me, smiling. “This is your uncle,”
Leslie (the UNICEF worker) proudly announced.
“How de
body, Ishmael?” the man said, and walked over to where I was sitting. He bent over and embraced me long and
hard. My arms hung loose at my
sides. What if he was just some man
pretending to be my uncle? I thought.
The man let go of me. He was
crying, which is when I began to believe that he really was family, because his
crying was genuine and men in my culture rarely cried. He crouched on his heels next to me and
began, “I am sorry I never came to see you in all those years. I wish I had met you before today. But we can’t go back now. We just have to start from here. I am sorry for your losses. After you are done here, you can come and
live with me. You are my son. I don’t have much, but I will give you a
place to sleep, food and my love.” He put his arms around me. Later, as we walked up the hill nearing my
uncle’s home, he pulled me aside and said, “I told only my wife about your past
life as a soldier. I kept it secret from
my children. I don’t think they will
understand. I hope it is okay with
you.” Relieved, I nodded, and we
continued on.
When we
walked into the verandah, my uncle’s wife came out, her face glowing as if she
had polished it all her life. She stood
at the doorway and then embraced me so tightly that I felt my nose and lips
being squashed against her arms. She
released me, stood back, and pinched my cheeks.
“Welcome, my son” she said.”
Arise, shine; for your light
has come,
and the glory of the Lord has
risen upon you.
For darkness shall cover the
earth,
and thick darkness the
peoples;
but the Lord will arise upon you,
and his glory will appear
over you.
Nations shall come to your
light,
and kings to the brightness of your dawn.
Lift up your eyes and look
around;
they all gather together, they
come to you;
your sons shall come from
far away,
and your daughters shall be
carried on their nurses’ arms.
Then you shall see and be
radiant;
your heart shall thrill and
rejoice.
The
dream that a violent, broken child soldier can once again become a child, a son
even, seems impossible. Perhaps as
impossible as the promise of “home” for the people of Israel who had been in
forced exile by Babylon for two hundred years.
Or as impossible as the hope of healing for us in the wake of the
unthinkable loss of so many young lives.
Or as impossible as the God of all creation, who is goodness and light
itself, entering into a world where evil and darkness abound, to become one of
us.
Lift up your eyes and look
around: with God
all things are possible. Though thick
darkness sometimes clouds our vision so completely we cannot even see to put
one foot in front of the other, even the
darkness is not dark to God. For
unto us a child is born! A child:
fragile, innocent, wise and relentlessly joyful.
God
could have entered this world in any way God pleased: as a strong teenager, or
as a successful middle-aged man, or as a confident older adult. But God chose to enter as a child, placed in
the hands of unseasoned parents, utterly dependent upon others for nourishment
of body and soul. The One who spoke
creation into being entered this world as a baby only able to utter cries of
need and coos of joy.
Why
would God choose to come to us as a child?
As Isaiah 60 reminds us, children bring a radiance to our lives and a
rejoicing to our hearts that penetrates even the deepest cynicism and doubt. As Ishmael’s story reminds us, children bear
within them a light that, no matter how damaged or dimmed, fights to shine of
goodness, hope, redemption and love.
Why does
it matter that God made this choice? It
matters because only children can show us the way. The way past our pride and civil war waged,
the way past our overactive rationality and underactive imagination. The way past our despair and numbness.
God
chose to enter this world as a child, and that Christ-child did not just enter
once, but enters our lives again and again as we seek to become more
child-like. We do this by loving first
and labeling never, shining as children of God without fear of ridicule or
self-consciousness, and relentlessly holding onto good, no matter how thick the
darkness may seem.
Ishmael
Beah went on to be a delegate at the United Nations in New York, where he was
asked to shed light on his experience as a child soldier. He bravely said, “I am from Sierra Leone, and the problem that is affecting us children
is the war that forces us to run away from our homes, lose our families, and
aimlessly roam the forests. As a result,
we get involved in the conflict as soldiers.
All of this is because of starvation, the loss of our families, and the
need to feel safe and be a part of something when all else has broken
down. I have been rehabilitated now, so
don’t be afraid of me. I am not a
soldier anymore; I am a child. We are
all brothers and sisters.”
This
Christmas, more than ever, we need the good news that God is with us. This is true.
But the even better news is this: God is with us…as a child. The light of
that child shines on each of us now, calling us to become children once more,
to be held tightly in the loving embrace of the radiant God who knows our true
nature and who lifts up our eyes past difference and hardship, past pain and
doubt, to see that we are all brothers and sisters. We do not need to be afraid any more. A child has been born for – and in – us. Thanks be to God! Amen.
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