There was a cartoon in the New Yorker a couple of weeks ago that showed one of those sidewalk prophets walking along carrying a big sign.  The archetype of these drawings entails a scowling prophet in the midst of a bustling smiling, carefree crowd, with a sign saying some variation of "The end is near."  The prophet in this cartoon is smiling and carrying a sign through the battle ravaged streets of New York that reads, "Everything's going to be all right."  I do not know if the creator of the cartoon was merely playing with an ironic twist or whether they are aware that it is indeed the role of the prophet to bring us a word that often runs counter to our human expectations.

 When the prophet Isaiah spoke the words we heard in our lesson this morning the northern kingdom of Israel had or was in the process of being defeated in war by the powerful Assyrians.  The people of Isaiah's day lived in a time of constant war or fear of war.  All the power in the world appeared to rest in Ninevah, the capital of the Syrian empire.  Tribute flowed in from the surrounding region which helped to maintain a huge army and a lifestyle of luster and luxury beyond comprehension for much of the ancient world.  Jerusalem was a forgotten backwater in the geopolitical landscape of the time.

 Isaiah's vision of all of the nations of the world streaming to the mountain of Zion is ludicrous.  The picture of anyone or any nation beating swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks was a step beyond ludicrous.

 In these days of advent we are in the business of considering the ludicrous.  We are preparing for the arrival of a fully human child who we also claim happens to be fully God.  As we listen to Isaiah's vision of all peoples streaming toward this mountain of God, our Christian perspective on the mountain is found in the Christ who is coming.

 We are living in times when everything is certainly not all right.  On top of the usual miseries that we have grown accustomed to worrying over, poverty, homelessness, illness, list your most pressing social concern or personal malady here, we now find ourselves living in a world far more dangerous for us than we have experienced in quite a few years.  We are a people that have for the most part been insulated from the violence that pervades much of the world and now it has arrived on our shores in dramatic fashion.  We as a people have tasted a fear that has not been as potent since possibly the Cuban Missile Crisis.

 It has been interesting to watch the different ways we have sought to protect ourselves from this danger.  Some have filled their bodies with Cipro and their closets with gas masks, others have stopped travelling by air.  Many of us have watched closely as our military has flexed its muscle in Afghanistan, hoping that each new acre of territory conceded by the Taliban has in some way increased our personal safety.  We have become fascinated by  daisy cutter bombs and computer spy drones, placing our faith in the multibillion dollar military industrial complex and brave soldiers to snuff out danger.  We have listened carefully to our President's pronouncements about the extremists we are battling.  We have celebrated all that makes this country great.

 Most of us have not been listening for a word from a prophet who lived nearly three thousand years ago.  And it is probably a good thing we have not been.  Isaiah's words do not fit neatly into the rest of our plan for surviving these uncertain days.  I cannot imagine Donald Rumsfeld suggesting we remove the munitions from our bombs and turn them into planters for poinsettias.  I cannot imagine George Bush announcing that America was going to slip quietly and anonymously into a parade of nations bowing down before anyone or anything, regardless of who his favorite political philosopher may be.

 We find ourselves in the midst of a significant culture clash between the way we function as a nation, as the world superpower responding to a brutal and heinous crime of terror and a biblical message that reaches beyond violence and war.

 I cannot say that I am ready to immediately cease all military action and wave a benign good bye to Osama bin Laden and the Al Qaeda terrorist network.  But I also am not comfortable assuming that whenever we choose to use our military might that God is automatically cheering us on from the sidelines, waving an American flag.

 I believe we are living in dangerous times not only physically but theologically as well.  As we continue to fixate upon the evilness of our adversaries we can begin to fall into a trap.  We can begin to believe that if we stand in opposition to evil, in turn that must make us inherently good or the ultimate good.

 Regardless of our intentions and the necessity of our actions, we do not have the power to redress sin in this world.  There is not a possible human action that will bring back the innocent dead of September 11th.  We are not God. We are not God's favorite nation.  We are not innocent of sin ourselves either as individuals or as a nation.

 Only God can bring healing and wholeness to children who have lost fathers and mothers, spouses who have lost partners, parents who have lost children.  Superpower or not we are not in charge of this world and its every outcome. In the end all of the nations of the world will not come streaming to Washington D.C. and its gleaming monuments. In the end every knee will not bow down before this or any nation.

 The outcome of the world has been decided and it reaches beyond any border or dispute or war we know.  The outcome of the world is that God wins.  God wins over all of the broken-ness of violence, of extremism, of poverty, of prejudice.  God overcomes all human failure great and small.

 In the days ahead as we watch for the arrival of the Christ child, let us remember all that we watch and wait for in this time.  Let us never confuse the grand promise of God's reconciling victory in Christ with our own limited human attempts to survive in this world.  Let us save our ultimate allegiance for the one who is truly ultimate.

Amen.