The Eighth Sunday after the Epiphany

To See the Mountains Skip
Isaiah 49:8-16a

What would you say if a young child came up to you excitedly and said, “Guess what I just heard! Guess! I bet you can't guess.  I just heard the mountains sing.” Or what would you do if an earnest and breathless child said, “I just saw the mountains skipping.” Most of us would probably be kind, but dismissive. “That’s nice, dear, run along now.” Or we might praise the child for a vivid imagination.

This morning’s reading from Isaiah speaks of the mountains breaking forth into singing. And of the earth itself rising up in exultation. There’s a passage in the psalms that describes the mountains skipping like rams. Skipping! At another place in Isaiah, the prophet proclaims that the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

I would like to see and hear these things. I would like to know these experiences. I do believe that these wonderful images are more than metaphors… and more than the product of a childlike imagination. I believe that, somehow, they speak of something that we can truly experience. I believe they describe the world’s joyful response to the presence of God. And I believe that we can see and hear that response. It is possible to really hear the trees clap their hands. It is possible to see the mountains playfully skipping like rams.

So why is it so rare or unimaginable for us to hear the mountains sing or to see the earth itself exult? What keeps us from these experiences? What blocks our senses?

Today’s collect is about our ability to perceive. It speaks to what blocks our vision of God’s wonders. “Most loving Father, whose will it is for us to give thanks for all things, to fear nothing but the loss of you, and to cast all our care on you who care for us: Preserve us from faithless fears and worldly anxieties, that no clouds of this mortal life may hide from us the light of that love which is immortal, and which you have manifested to us in your Son Jesus Christ our Lord…” Preserve us from faithless fears and worldly anxieties, that no clouds of this mortal life may hide from us the light of your love. It is the faithless fears and worldly anxieties—which are a part of every human life—that cloud our vision, that stop our ears. Faithless fears and worldly anxieties impede our ability to sense the love and presence of God. Faithless fears and worldly anxieties are the clouds that keep us from seeing the mountains skip, from hearing the earth sing, from feeling God’s own love poured out on us.

I spent some time trying to come up with examples of faithless fears and worldly anxieties to help illustrate my point. What sort of fears are faithless fears? What are some examples of worldly anxieties, as distinct from other every-day anxieties? I’ve come to the conclusion that all of our fears are faithless and all of our anxieties are worldly. All of our fears are faithless and all of our anxieties are worldly. And it is all of these fears and anxieties that cloud our perception of God’s presence and love.

So how do we clear our hearing and sight? How do we avoid being blinded and deafened by the fears and anxieties that are a part of all of our lives? Today’s collect helps again. “Most loving Father, whose will it is for us to give thanks for all things, to fear nothing but the loss of you, and to cast all our care on you who care for us…” We are to cast our cares on God. Most of us yearn to know God’s will for us. This collect tells us one piece of it, at least. God wills us to cast our cares on him. God, whom we address in this collect as “Most Loving Father,” wants us to give our fears and anxieties to him. We had a funeral here yesterday. I’m reminded of a passage from the burial service where we are praying for those who mourn, people troubled by distress, cares and anxieties. We pray that those who mourn may “cast all their cares on God and know the consolation of God’s love.” And this is the really important part. It is in casting our cares on God that we come to know the consolation of God’s love. It is casting our cares on God that disperses the clouds that block our seeing and hearing God’s presence and love. When we cast our cares on God, the clouds part, and God’s love shines into our lives. We are able to sense and feel that love.

The place to start is by naming the specific fears and anxieties that trouble your life. Face and name, directly and specifically, the particular fears and anxieties that cloud your life. Today. Small fears, large fears, persistent anxieties or a single anxious event. Name them. That’s where you have to start. And then prayerfully give them to God. Place them in God’s care, in God’s hands. My own experience is intermittent, at best, but I know this works. As we cast our cares on God, the clouds of this mortal life disperse and the glorious light of God’s love shines in. And, as those clouds of faithless fears and worldly anxieties break up and dissolve away, I do believe that we will also be able to see—to really see—the mountains skipping joyfully like rams and to hear the earth itself singing in exultation. All in joy and praise of the presence of God.