The Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany

If I go out to a restaurant and I order, say, let’s say something simple. Rare steak. It’s a guarantee my steak will come back charred. When I point this out to the waiter - always politely, never in a demanding way because God knows I could never do their job - they will stare at me and say, “You asked for well-done.” They won’t ever say, “Oh, I’m sorry, my mistake.” If I ask at Arby’s for crinkle fries instead of seasoned fries, the cashier will say, “You said seasoned fries,” and I will just eat my seasoned fries in shame. Would I be listened to better if I were a man? I’m not sure about that, because I have also been called ‘sir.’ I’m not sure why, but people just don’t listen to me. They never have. My parents didn’t. My teachers and classmates didn’t. So at some point I started believing that what I had to say wasn’t important. My voice didn’t matter.  Back in ancient Rome, this would not have been possible. Greek and Roman society were extremely patriarchal. By the time Jesus preached his gospel, Rome, which had completely absorbed Greek government and society, was at least more accommodating to women. Unlike Greece, Roman women could inherit, buy and sell property. They were citizens and could file for divorce. But they couldn’t speak in public in a political manner. If a woman speaks and no one listens, is she really speaking?

There were exceptions of politically influential Roman women, the most notable being the Pythia, or the Oracle of Delphi. Pythia … Delphi. Wait a minute, isn’t that Greek? Well, did you know she was oracle for over a thousand years, from 600 BC to 393 AD? Ancient Greece and Rome - isn't that amazing? The same woman  - for over a thousand years - The only time I was listened to was when I was doing something similar.

When I was about 17 in Connecticut where I grew up, I volunteered at a fundraiser for a children’s museum. I was just planning on setting up  - read pilfering - refreshments when a lady said, “Hey, Lois. Our fortuneteller didn’t show up. Would you be willing to do it?” So I put on a shawl and a kerchief and some gold costume jewelry. They put me at a table with a crystal ball. I had no idea what I was going to do. Pretty soon I had my first customer. And the way they were looking at me I knew they expected something good. So I gave it to them. Word got around and like Pythia I had a line of people. After, the organizer told me, “You’re really good at this.”

 The problem was, I just made stuff up. So can you blame the Pythia? They had a cool title. They had respect. Men lined up around the block to hang on her every word. And they brought gifts. Gold, jewels, you name it. Also confirmed, the Temple of Apollo was built over a chasm containing “gases.” Boy, would I love to have been part of that racket.

But if people are listening to a woman. And she’s not speaking with an authentic voice - is she really speaking?

 Isaiah 42 says “My servant will not cry out or raise her voice, or make it heard in the street. A bruised reed he will not break, and a dimming wick they will not quench.” Well, THAT’s lame. You couldn’t convince a fly to land on moldy garbage with that voice. And where’s the gold? Where're my jewels? Where’s the prestige? Being loud and flim-flammy must be the answer, right? Because otherwise, how will you get people to listen to you?

But the reading goes on to say, “My servant will not be dimmed or bruised until he has established justice in the earth. Thus says the Holy God, the One who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and her progeny.” Oh. You mean being God’s chosen servant comes with backup? Okay, tell me more. “And for my servant’s teachings, the coastlands wait.” Yes, the coast lands. The well-known saying is that all roads lead to Rome. But did you know that all those roads lead also out of Rome? From Rome, roads led outward to nearly every coast of the empire: Adriatic, Mediterranean, and even to the Black Sea or Atlantic edges via ports like Brundisium and Ostia. Hebrew iyyim meant distant islands or remote regions - symbolizing far-off Gentile nations. 

Okay. You’ve convinced me. But I have one more question: How can the meek voice of God’s servant travel that far? A creosote bush does not run up to you and spray you with a perfume bottle like they used to do at the department stores. They can't do that now because everybody's allergic. “Hey! Try me! I smell really good.” After it rains in the desert of Southern Arizona, the creosote releases its perfume into the air. You notice a subtle scent. It's compelling. It smells like the very first rain on the very first flower in the very first Earth that God made. And you will say what is that smell? You want to learn more about it. And it's like that with the voice of God’s servant. The voice of God's servant is authentic. I like what Deacon Lisa said in her message: a “divine utterance.” And Vicki talked about John the Baptist, recognizing his cousin even from the womb, with his quiet baby voice in there. It doesn't need to yell, shout. Because it draws divine, authentic inspiration from the one true source. Did ordinary Greek and Roman women exercise their feminine political  influence at home with husbands and brothers and uncles who loved and valued them? Of course they did. The scripture said that the message reached the coasts, the remote coasts, by the oceans. How authentic is the voice of God’s servant to reach so far. By Jesus’ era under Rome, the gospel spread along these very roads to those coastlands, fulfilling the prophecy: justice and teaching reaching the ends of the earth. 

In contrast to the voice of God's servant, the voice of God in this passage is anything but. God is a divine combatant. God says she will gasp and pant and scream like a birthing woman. Not a golden retriever wanting a biscuit, but a breathy growl, fierce, bringing new life. 

 And the other side of speaking is listening. Now, Jonathan Joestar - my plushie of the character -  here is a great listener. He doesn’t interrupt, or yawn, or fall asleep, or “have to take a phone call.” In fact, he would listen to any of you if you wanted to talk to him. I don’t know why you wouldn’t. But even if you don’t have a JoJo plushie, you have someone better: God. Yes, God hears his people on the coast. She hears their singing, their praises, their crying out in oppression. And God takes action. Nanalee talked about Tobit, the protagonist of the apocryphal book of the same name. He went blind. And in the reading from Isaiah for today, it says “I will lead the blind by a way they do not know, by paths they have not seen.” And isn’t that God’s ultimate action. To lead us, guide us down paths once full of obstacles, like hills, mountains, rivers. God has listened - and he has razed them all. So if you think a path you are on is hard now, think of all the obstacles that were there: and God removed them before you even knew they existed.

Unlike the Oracle’s trance or my teenage improvisation, the servant speaks authentically from God’s spirit. No need for show or volume; the truth draws like rain-scented creosote. Authentic voices don’t shout. They release fragrance that compels. Like the servant’s teaching reaching distant coasts along Rome’s roads, our quiet truth can travel far in God’s name.