This is not new. Our technology for waging war may be new. The instantaneous nature of the internet may bring world situations into closer view than ever before. Yet we seem ever farther from knowing "the truth," regardless of the information explosion out there. It is astonishing to me though that the anxieties we face are not that different from the anxieties of the ancient world. We can very well understand what it means to be a "people who have walked in darkness." The darkness in this passage represents the pain of being an oppressed people. We can understand that oppression lifted is like seeing the light for the first time. I’d also add that the oppressors in the "deep darkness" find light too when their role is lifted and people become one under God. We get that. Joy is discovered in the light of day. Rejoicing happens when the struggle is over and light overcomes the darkness.

But what bothers me is that the biblical metaphor used to describe that joy is "rejoicing as people exalting in dividing plunder." That image is a bit frightening to me. It alludes to the fact that we are happy when we are on the winning side, and yet I worry about the losers who have been plundered in any conflict, war or otherwise. Gloating seems "unfaithful" in most circumstances, and yet this gloating is a sign of new life in the kingdom being described here. Who gets to claim the status of "winner?" Especially as we look for God’s affirmation here, it seems dangerous territory to claim that God is on our side. Plundering is what pirates do. It hardly seems like the right thing to cheer about. But I wonder, when the winning takes place from the underside of life, and the spoils are that of the rich and haughty, plundering what was rightfully the people’s treasure in the first place might seem like the only fair thing to do. The scripture tells us that the yoke of their burden, the rod of their oppressor has been broken - and so, no doubt, some celebration is bound to occur.

But no matter what, there is always going to be celebration whenever conflict is officially and without a doubt over. Even without naming winners and losers, when you can burn the boots of the foot soldiers, and are ready to say goodbye to garments that have been rolled in blood, that is good news to be sure. In either a major or a minor incident, when the time to bury the hatchet comes, we all experience great relief. In the wars we could tick off today, we yearn for this time to come when peace rolls throughout war-torn lands, and one can eradicate even the last signs of its manifestation. That is the part that may seem far-fetched in our world today. When one conflict is over, another one seems to appear right on its heels. Instead we would like to mark those times of peaceful interaction clearly and definitively, and that kind of clear ending seems out of our reach.

That’s where the ancient world seems to have its act together. Even as they struggled with the same things we do, they were looking for a reason to hope. They counted on the light to appear in the darkness, and attributed that light to God. They still grieved over the dead. They still experienced the hardships of high taxes used for military purposes, and the poverty of the people not counting for much. They had the same conceits we do that exalt the winners and write the losers out of the historical account. But they, in this coronation speech of old, found reason to hope in new leadership and counted on "the zeal of the Lord of hosts" to prevail.

Here’s where it comes to the familiar part of this text - the part that we read as having implications for the Christmas story. All this war is behind us because of the child who has been born for us. We can proclaim a definitive end to the conflict because the authority of God rests on his shoulders and he is named: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace. Because of this prophesied prince of peace, the price of war has been paid. Authority, they say, will flow from him, and establish the throne of David as a peaceful throne for all time to come. This ruler will uphold the throne with just the right balance of justice and righteousness so that becoming either the oppressed or the oppressor will be something we need not fear.

Only it hasn’t happened quite that way. It wasn’t much longer before the Israelite people knew of more wars, more conflict, more oppression. The king they expected didn’t solve it all. The Messiah we hold dear couldn’t break our pattern of war. Centuries, millennia later, this foreshadowed reign of justice and righteousness seems a far cry from our reality even though living in East Tennessee usually seems rather peaceful.

In what can we place our hope? Can it really be secured by the birth of a child in a manger in Bethlehem? Can we still use the title Prince of Peace in any meaningful way?

I think, perhaps, we can. I don’t think that the prophet Isaiah was naïve in penning this coronation speech in expectation of a new day. The people then were aware, just as we are now, or perhaps more so, that the never-ending reign of peace is a dream more than a reality. Human beings seem to have endless reasons for conflict and escalation of those conflicts. The justice and righteousness that they yearned for became possible in God – though not always easy to recognize in human terms.

As we look to the child we see in this story – born for us, we realize that just because Jesus came to earth, and lived, and died for us, some things haven’t changed. The world continues to know violence, poverty, war, and hatred. And yet, there are changes that are profound. We know now of God’s love and forgiveness for us, and those seeds of grace can grow into new possibilities. One by one and face to face, we can choose to love God and love one another as Jesus called us to do. We know God’s investment in our lives because God was willing to become human, to experience the violence, poverty, and hatred associated with being an earthly being.

We have reason to hope – to proclaim that there is someone in perpetual rule that serves only with justice and righteousness. When it seems hopeless in Iraq or Darfur, when it seems unfair that so many have so little even at Christmas, when we can’t even get along for more than three days when the whole family gets together, don’t despair, put your hope in the child who has been born for us, this day, every day. God’s love will not leave us afraid or alone.

Amen.