2020.11.29 | Approaching the Summit
“Approaching the Summit”
Rev. Dr. Arlene K. Nehring
Today’s passage is from the 8th Century BC. The words from chapter 2 were first uttered by the prophet for whom the book is named. Isaiah was a temple prophet and royal advisor to four successive Judean kings (Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah.) Isaiah lived and served in the capital city of Jerusalem, in Judah, just prior to the fall of the Northern Kingdom, which occurred in 721 BC.
At the time that Isaiah prophesied, Judah was still intact, but the Northern Kingdom was crumbling, and about to fall to the Assyrians like the other nations that surrounded it.
Sentiments of doom and gloom abounded. The world that Isaiah and his audience knew was about to pass away and, yet, the prophet had the audacity to proclaim that a new day was ahead when both the Northern and Southern Kingdoms would be restored and reunited, and pilgrims would travel from around the world, hike to the summit of God’s holy mountain, ask for divine guidance, and beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks.
Isaiah envisioned that when that day came to pass, war would cease, because everyone would worship God and live in harmony with one another.
To the uninitiated, today’s passage may seem like an impossible dream, and the prophet Isaiah may appear to be a romantic fool for embracing it. But Isaiah insisted that his vision was more than a dream—it was an invitation to pilgrims everywhere to set their sights on God’s teaching, learn the things that would make for peace and justice, and ascend to the summit of God’s Holy Mountain.
Isaiah didn’t promise that the path to the summit would be smooth. In fact, if you read the book of Isaiah closely, you discover just how treacherous the journey was. Jerusalem was both a destination point for travelers and a major thoroughfare for international trade. As a consequence, bandits hovered at its outskirts and trapped and looted pilgrims and merchants on their way to and through the Holy City.
For similar reasons, foreign kings and armies sought to control this city, because whoever controlled Jerusalem and the roads to and from it controlled a good bit of ancient near-eastern commerce.
The prophet Isaiah did not mince words. He spoke with a raw truth that only trailblazers or ancient travelers could understand. He explained that Pilgrims would be tested in every way. Yet he promised that it was possible to ascend to the summit, because God would provide the protection and the directions that the pilgrims needed.
Did you hear that? God provided the protection and the directions!
II
Over the course of my life, I’ve been a little bit surprised to discover that some of the people who have worked the hardest and who have been the biggest believers in this vision have been women and men who served in active duty in the US armed forces. That’s right, people that have survived not only boot camp, but active fire on the front lines, have been some of the biggest peaceniks that I’ve known.
Today, I tell you about one of those guys who not only shared Isaiah's vision of swords being hammered into ploughshares, he was a guy who walked the talk of the prophets of peace. His name was Joe Buck. He was a mild mannered country lawyer who mostly handled wills and estates.
If you took the time to get to know him, you would learn that he had been a medic in World War II, that he had served in numerous roles as a church and community volunteer, and that he was one of the few who has climbed all 46 high peaks in New York’s Adirondack Mountains.
Joe would tell you that there was nothing special about his military career or him being at Normandy on D-Day. He would tell you that there were thousands of other soldiers on the battlefield that day, and that he was just one of many who served.
Joe counted himself fortunate to have survived World War II, not only because he was on the front lines but because he rarely carried a gun. He explained to me once that he was smaller and more educated than most of the men in his company, so his commanding officer assigned him to a M.A.S.H. unit, issued him a medical kit, and sent him onto the battlefield to treat and triage the wounded.
He said that he didn’t carry a gun, because it just weighed him down; and he figured that if someone fired at him, he would be injured before he could set down his medic bag and discharge his weapon. So he decided not to bother with it.
When Joe came home from the war, he enrolled in Law School at Cornell University where he graduated at the top of his class. He went on to establish a law practice in the Southern Tier, and to marry a school librarian and raise a family.
I met Joe when he was in his early 70s. He was then the president of the congregation that I served. I was in my late 20s at that time. It was not lost on either of us that Joe was old enough to be my grandfather.
I learned later that there was a great deal of speculation about how Joe’s and my partnership would unfold as president and pastor, and that for the most part, the speculation wasn’t particularly positive. The skeptics did not know that I appreciated Joe’s thoughtful and consultative leadership style, or that he was one of the most forward-thinking people I had ever gotten to work with at the time. As it turned out, Joe was fascinated by young people and very interested in new ideas. We got along quite well.
During the course of our service, I learned that Joe had not only climbed all 46 high peaks--he did that after the age of 65, and after he survived surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy treatments for colon cancer.
I once asked Joe what possessed him to climb all 46 high peaks in his later years, especially given his health challenges.
He paused for a moment, and then looked at me and said, “I needed my life to be about something more than cancer. I needed my life to be about living, not dying. I needed a goal that was about thriving, not simply surviving.”
“Wow,” I said. “When I grow up, Joe, I want to be like you!”
III
Wanting to live, not die; wanting to thrive not just survive, these are the sentiments that inspired Isaiah, too.
Retrace the steps of Joe Buck’s life and you will find a trail map that resembles the treacherous path that Isaiah described. Joe’s military service and his fight with cancer are just two of the formidable and formative experiences that shaped his spiritual journey. These hardships tested and strengthened him, and his commitment to work for a better world. They taught him the necessity and the veracity of hope.
Joe, like so many other veterans whom I have known, became an ardent proponent of peace. Joe never forgot what it was like to be a medic on the battlefields of Europe and have to run from body to body trying to decide how to ration morphine, tie tourniquets, and choose which soldiers to carry back to the M.A.S.H., because there weren’t enough medics or time or doctors to save everyone who was wounded. These grim realities of war galvanized Joe’s commitment to work for peace.
I served in Upstate New York during the Gulf War. The younger generations dressed like beatniks headed to Peace Park for a Vietnam War protest. They were quick to organize marches around the town square, and they planted a peace pole next to the church entrance. Joe was solidly behind them. He regularly showed up with his votive candle and sturdy walking shoes ready to go the distance for peace—no matter how long and winding that road seemed to be--and he inspired others to do the same.
Each of us probably knows someone like Joe–someone who has been a spiritual or a literal mountain climber, someone who has made it to the summit and back, despite many obstacles. Think for a moment, who is that person for you?
Once you’ve identified that person who has been an inspiration to you, reflect on that person’s life for a moment and consider how those experiences may have shaped their spiritual lives and the choices that they’ve made. And then ask, what have or could I learn from them?
When you are clear about who that mountain-climber is for you, and the circumstances that forged that person’s spirituality, then you will have a keener sense of Isaiah’s vision, the context out of which it emerged, and the trail that you are invited to follow in order to reach the summit of God’s Holy Mountain, where peace and justice kiss.
Now, take a step. Take a step toward the summit, no matter how steep it appears, and repeat the words that the sherpas tell themselves as they press toward the summit on Mt. Everest: every step is a step. Friends, believe the Good News of the Gospel: every step is a step! Amen.