Friday Facts: Lectionary A – Advent 3

Friday Facts is a new weekly feature here on Trout and Cast Iron. Every week, I’ll read through the lectionary texts for the following Sunday in their original Hebrew and Greek. On Friday, I’ll choose one of the texts, provide a new translation, and highlight one point of interest from a linguistic, ancient history, or concordance point of view. The hope is that Friday Facts can provide a spark to preachers who find themselves preparing their Sunday sermon on a short schedule. 

Isaiah 35.1-10

1 The wilderness and the desert will rejoice and the dry steppe will shout in exultation and they will blossom like the crocus. 2 They will blossom continuously and, indeed, they will rejoice continuously and shout for joy. The glory of Lebanon, the majesty of Carmel and Sharon will be given to them. They will see the glory of YHWH, the majesty of our God. 3 Strengthen the hands of the weak and make firm stumbling knees. 4 Say to those with a fickle heart “Be strong, be not afraid! Behold your God. Vengeance is coming. The retribution of God will come and save you.” 5 Then the eyes of the blind will be opened and the ears of the deaf will be restored. 6 Then the limping will leap like a deer and the tongue of the mute will sing for joy because water will break forth in the wilderness and torrents on the dry steppe. 7 The parched ground will become a reed encircled pool and the thirsty ground will become a spring. The jackals’ den will become a swamp and the dry grass will become reeds and rushes. 8 There will be a path there and it will be called the Holy Way. The unclean will not walk on it. It will be for God’s people. No traveler, not even fools, will get lost on it. 9 There will be no lion there, and predators will not be found there. The redeemed will walk there. 10 And the ransomed of YHWH will return, and come to Zion with singing. Everlasting joy will be on their heads; they will attain joy and gladness. Sorrow and sighing will flee.

For the first eighteen years of my life, I lived in southern California, a land of dry scrub and chaparral. Every year, I went camping with my father and brother in the White Mountains, a mountain range in the desert that straddles Nevada and California. We camped next to a creek, less than three feet wide in most stretches, but large enough to transform the landscape. On the banks of the creek, green grass and willows flourished. Trout swam in it and voles scurried through the meadows that it watered. But walk 100 feet away, and you’d wander into a wilderness of sage brush and cactus and scrubby pine trees.

This passage from Isaiah makes me think back to those mountain camping trips, but even more so, it makes me reflect on the topography in Minnesota, where I live now. Here in Minnesota, I have to take care not to trip, otherwise I’ll end up in a lake or a river or some other body of water. It presents a question to the translator: where does translation end and interpretation begin? For instance, should I adapt Isaiah 35:6-7 for my Minnesota readers and render it: “Then the limping will leap like a deer and the tongue of the mute will sing for joy because the sun will break forth on the prairie and summer on the frozen hills. The frozen pond will become a swimming hole and the dead grass will become a flowery meadow.” It may get the point across, but it definitely changes the metaphor. It’s a slippery slope that I’m not sure that I want to walk down. But as a preacher, I think it’s important to keep your climate in mind. If your congregants have never been to the desert, you may have to think about whether “jackals’ dens” becoming “swamps” is translating for them.

This is a slippery question, and one that I’ll continue to reflect upon throughout this feature. If you’re interested, I encourage you to take a look at my earlier post on a similar desert problem, translating the Hebrew word nachal (incidentally, the word nachal appears in Isaiah 35:6, where I’ve translated it ‘torrents’).

Walking Through the Desert

As of right now, I’ve completed 76 days of a read the Bible in 90 days challenge. This is the first in a series of two or three posts in which I reflect on the experience.

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As I’ve mentioned once or twice before, I’m passionate about New Testament Greek. I’ve done Hebrew, and I’m not shoddy at it, but Koine Greek and I just seem to get along well. It means that I spend a lot of time reading the New Testament. In addition, as a preacher (like many others), I have the tendency to gravitate towards the Gospel lesson for the focus of my sermons.

Luckily for me, the challenge of reading through the Bible in 90 days has not let me escape the Old Testament. In fact, of the 76 days that I’ve spent so far, it’s taken 67 of them to get me from Genesis to Malachi. The past two months of reading has caused me to reflect on the way that I read the Old Testament, and how I use it in my own devotional life.

There is a tendency and, in this respect, I am the chief of sinners, to treat the Old Testament like a desert. You wander in it for a long time. Mostly it’s an odd collection of scary, spiky things and endless sage brush(or in this case, the slaughtering of Canaanites interspersed with endless censuses and genealogies). But, every now and then, there’s an oasis:  Joseph and his coat with long sleeves! Psalm 23! Ezekiel in the valley of the dry bones!

But, as someone who’s spent his fair share of time hiking around California’s high desert, I know that the desert has more to offer than meets the eye. And, the same is going on with the Old Testament. If we take seriously Christ’s words that the Scriptures (i.e. the Old Testament) all testify to him, then we need to stop and reconsider. Maybe that cactus has something to teach us. Maybe there’s something to be learned in endless sagebrush and endless genealogies. And maybe, just maybe, the promises of Christ are hiding in plain sight in the desert of the Old Testament, following us around like the rock that followed the Israelites.