Sermon given by the Revd Canon Roger Symon
Canon Residentiary at Canterbury Cathedral

24 June 2001

Canterbury Cathedral

One of history's most celebrated Highways is Highway 80 from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama. In 1965, during the days of the civil rights movement, a protest march set off from Selma led by a Baptist Minister, and before they started he led them in prayer. "Almighty God, Thou hast called us to walk for freedom, even as thou did the children of Israel. We pray, dear God, as we go through the wilderness of State Troopers that thou wilt hold our hand." The Commander of the State Troopers, Colonel Leonard P. Lynch, said the troopers parted like the waters of the Red Sea, and let them go through.

Two year earlier, in one of the most famous speeches of the 20th century, this same minister, Martin Luther King, pleaded with Americans for a new society, and offered them a vision for their sweet land of liberty. Everyone knows his simple opening statement. "I have a dream." And what was his dream? It was that "one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be brought low, the rough places shall be made plain, and the crooked places shall be made straight, the glory of the Lord will be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together."

Not many years later another country was facing a similar national crisis. Violent protest was coming to the boil, and the lid of the cauldron was about to be blown off by the rising pressure of revolt. And again it was a young Christian leader who came forward to speak for God's justice and God's peace, and to try and avert a bloodbath. In a statement following the riots in Soweto of 1976, Bishop Desmond Tutu said.

"We shall be free because our cause is just. Our freedom is bestowed by God, not white people. And our God gives liberty to the oppressed and to the oppressor. So lift up your heads and straighten your drooping shoulders. Let us walk, black and white together, into a new South Africa, where God will feed his flock like a shepherd. Let us make straight in the desert a highway for our God."

So two of the best-known Christian leaders of the 20th century both resorted to the same words in which to express their passionate conviction. They both turned to that extraordinary passage that was read to us this morning, one of those poetic passages that has served the preacher, and comforted the believer, in all kinds of different situations throughout Christian history. Poetic and prophetic, visionary and lyrical, Isaiah roused the Jewish people when they were in exile in Babylon in the 6th century BC, and encouraged them to start the long journey home to Jerusalem. In so doing he provided an image of peace and justice to all who have been trapped by political oppression or personal despair. "The crooked places shall be made straight, and the rough places plain, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed. All flesh is grass. The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God shall stand for ever."

A scholar-friend has recently told me that some archaeologists made a discovery in Babylon which sheds more light on this passage. They have found some 6th century remains there, exposed sections of a processional highway that led into the city. Along this route images of the gods of Babylon were carried in triumphal procession in honour of the city god Marduk.

But it was probably also along this same highway, after the fall of Jerusalem in 587, that the dejected Israelites were force-marched into exile in a strange land. For the Jews this highway became a symbol of defeat, and the processions of the gods a grim reminder of their own oppression and sins. For they believed their expulsion from their beloved Jerusalem was God's way of punishing them. One of their poets bewailed the plight of the deserted city: "All her gates are desolate, and she herself is bitterness. The Lord hath afflicted her for the multitude of her transgressions: her children are gone into captivity before the enemy." (Lamentations/Tenebrae)

But God did not abandon his people forever. In due time Babylon itself was defeated by Cyrus the Persian, holding out the hope that the exiles could return home. And cometh the hour, cometh the man. A new leader came forward who saw in the fall of Babylon a sign from God. He believed God was once again looking graciously upon his people, so he roused the people, restored their self-confidence, and inspired them to return home to Jerusalem. All flesh is grass, he said, all flowers fade, all earth's proud empires pass away, even Babylon, but the word of our God still stands. Like Churchill's speeches in the Second World War, the words of Isaiah lifted the spirits of a whole people, and turned despair into hope. The processional highway was to be no longer a Via Dolorosa, but the royal route back to freedom in the promised land. So comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, he said. Be strong. We'll make the rough places plain, we'll realign the crooked path, and make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

It was no wonder that 20th century prophets turned to the 6th century Isaiah. He gave their message wings. His poetry invested it with universal power. Poetic rhythms and cadences give hope to victim people, and enable them to believe in themselves again.

Today we remember another prophet who also understood that our God is a God of life and hope, not from the 6th century before Christ, nor from 20th century after Christ, but from Christ's own time, John the Baptist. As fearless as Desmond Tutu, as passionate as MLK, he too confronted the secular power, rebuked the rulers, and paid for it with his life.

And what do these voices crying in the wilderness have to say to us?

First, they show us the power of the gospel. Prophets see deep into the mind and heart of God, and are prepared to put their lives on the line, and if necessary lose them.

Second, they show us that God is passionately concerned about social justice. John the Baptist urgently and insistently preached that justice was central to the Kingdom.

Third, prophets prepare the way of the Lord. They anticipate or illustrate the truth of the gospel, that Jesus trod the Via Dolorosa, the way of suffering and crucifixion. He turned it into a highway to freedom, and enabled us to follow him.

Our personal highway may not be as public as Highway 80 from Selma to Montgomery, or the street that leads from St George's Cathedral in Cape Town to Government House, or the highway that stretches out from Babylon to Jerusalem across the Syrian desert. But on whatever pilgrim path we find ourselves, however stony, steep, frightening or lonely, if we do justly and walk humbly with our God, the glory of the Lord shall be revealed.