A Sermon from First Church…. 

A sermon offered by the Rev. Ian F. “Jack” Steeves in the public worship of the First Congregational Church of Scarborough, Maine on Sunday, December 9, 2007.  The principal readings were Isaiah 11:1-10 and Matthew 3:1-12. 

“Asparagus: The Advent Vegetable” 

“A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a branch will bear fruit” (Isaiah11:1). 

In the light of Isaiah’s ancient images of “a shoot” and “a branch,” Advent reminds me not of a person but of a vegetable – Asparagus.  And, late every spring, Asparagus reminds me of Advent.  Think about this truth: the secret to a faithful Advent and a successful crop of asparagus is patience and preparation. 

Before the asparagus roots can be planted, a trench or bed must be dug.  The soil must be turned over, enriched with aged compost, sweetened with a bit of lime, and turned over again.  The roots are then generously spaced, covered, and the soil leveled. 

And then you wait, and you wait patiently, and wait patiently some more. 

For the next three years, there is no harvesting.  None!  Quite possibly during this early time, there is not even a hint of vegetable life beneath the soil.  When the first frail plant does appear, you must allow more time for the stems to grow and nourish the hidden roots.  No picking!  Hands off! 

As if there was a false promise, the first stems die and fall off in the autumn, leaving again only the buried roots, and the promise of a harvest at some future date. 

By the fourth year, but sometimes as long as the seventh, tender, green succulent stems can finally be broken off and eaten.  In spite of the long wait, if properly kept, an asparagus bed will yield a healthy bounty for years.  In England, there is the report of a 137-year-old asparagus bed still producing because of the initial patience and diligent preparation of its first gardener, one Sir Joseph Hooker. 

Advent and Asparagus (and we should add, a Pastoral Search) are tied together in my mind.  What bonds them is the arduous preparation necessary for a harvest and the patience required to see the process to completion, and the seemingly interminable waiting.  Then the doubting, the questioning, the lack of faith that what was promised will actually appear, and the lack of confidence in the manner of the gardener’s preparation. 

Then the brighter side, the human spirit flushed with hope and optimism, and the expectancy of new life and all that it offers and symbolizes for us, and not just at Christmas.  I ask you, what expectant parents (and grandparents) do not quietly ponder the joyous possibilities for their unborn child, even when the joy is tempered with the acceptance of their own inevitable mortality.  The inevitability of a death that makes possible new life is the saving theme whispered at Advent, considered throughout Lent, and then finally shouted out on Easter morning. 

The prophet Isaiah offers us this counsel pertaining to God’s Anointed: “Not by appearance shall he judge,” any more than we can accurately judge the inexpressible significance of Christ’s coming by appearances, by the humble and impoverished circumstances of his birth in a cave, anymore than we judge the vigor and endurance of our asparagus bed by the fragile, web-like stem that first breaks the earth. 

It is, however, not enough to prepare for and witness the anniversary of the Birth of Jesus, anymore than it is sufficient to celebrate the first emergence of asparagus breaking through the soil.  Like Jesus, this plant has yet to be tasted; it must still fulfill its purpose of feeding and nourishing.  In the life of Jesus it took more than thirty years to get to harvest. 

We prepare to celebrate the Birth of this child because of what he promises.  When the water was sprinkled upon you at baptism, you began a journey that continues to this day with your waiting and your changing, and with each new sign of hope and deliverance.  So did the child Jesus. 

Only those with a sense of self are capable of any real degree of patience or sacrifice, individual freedom or genuine giving.  Through a lot of evolving, watching, imitating, waiting, questioning, learning, doubting, trial and error, we, who were once children, have become who we are today.  None of us was born this way, the way we are.  It is important that we not loose sight of exactly for what or whom it is that we are preparing and waiting for in Advent.  It is the child, the anointed one, who in time according to God’s will became the man, the prophet, the Savior. 

Prophets – like John and Jesus – and their prophetic form of speech can make us very uncomfortable.  Preparing for Jesus means being very open to our more prophetic inclinations.  It is comforting, but also challenging, to know that, in the silence of a desert or the noise of a stable or the pandemonium of a modern city, there are those like John the Baptist, fired up with conviction and unmindful of personal consequences, who experience an abiding sense of justice and peace.  They live by it and act on it. 

They are not popular people.  They are, however, truthful people.  They have seen the truth, have been set free by it, and now uphold it before us.  They often appear provocative, eccentric, and just plain difficult.  Ornery, some might say.  More often, the liars, the polluters, the corrupters, and the oppressors are better understood, tolerated, and even accepted.  We celebrate the prophets in past history as heroes, but seldom when they are presently among us. 

Still, we need our prophets, but we generally do not like them very much.  Too much for our liking do they respect life’s frailty and nature’s delicate balance.  Just imagine they live and teach as though we are all connected on this tiny planet!  Such foolishness!  They appear to us as if they are deranged; but where the psychotic is afraid; the visionary is actually freed to share the vision of tomorrow with others.  Isaiah’s vision is incredible: “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them” (Isaiah 11:6-7). 

Natural enemies will live in peace.  Someday there will be a world with no violence.  Someday all the children will be safe.  Even the weakest and the most vulnerable among us will not have to fear. 

Are we prepared for all this, ready and eager to celebrate the coming of One who is more than a baby, a prophet in waiting to be certain, and a God as well?  This, we should all know, is what our waiting and watching, preparation and patience is truly for. 

Isaiah knew that we must face the realities of our world and how we have chosen to live there.  He also knew that sometimes we must stop and rise above all the swirling madness around us and within us, and “catch hold of the vision” of what can yet be. 

It is winter, but spring will come.  Each spring, when we first spot a little green in the garden, we are reassured.  Once again, life has patiently and deliberately stretched itself through the surrounding dark soil and sought the light.  So long unseen, if not forgotten, it is like the Spirit, which also unseen, touches our lives and reassures our persons.  Like the prophets, life has always been moving toward the light. 

No child enters this world without an impact, be it ever so small, on all others.  Usually newborns are greeted with such joy because of the hope they represent for families and all of humankind.  Even more so is this true of the Christ-child. All who in darkness and with patience await him and his message chant today from the depths of their souls: “Maranatha!  “Come, Lord Jesus!  Come quickly!”  Let us be certain of that which we are asking.  This Christmas we may finally get what we have been waiting for, and much more.