A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse,
Isaiah 11:1-10
and a branch shall grow out of his roots.
2 The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him,
the spirit of wisdom and understanding,
the spirit of counsel and might,
the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.
3 His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord.
He shall not judge by what his eyes see
or decide by what his ears hear,
4 but with righteousness he shall judge for the poor
and decide with equity for the oppressed of the earth;
he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth,
and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked.
5 Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist
and faithfulness the belt around his loins.
6 The wolf shall live with the lamb;
the leopard shall lie down with the kid;
the calf and the lion will feed together,
and a little child shall lead them.
7 The cow and the bear shall graze;
their young shall lie down together;
and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
8 The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,
and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.
9 They will not hurt or destroy
on all my holy mountain,
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
as the waters cover the sea.
10 On that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious.
My sermon from the Second Sunday of Advent (December 7, 2025) on Isaiah 11:1-10.
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In front of my house is a plant whose leaves are turning brown. Small spots have shown up on each leaf, devouring all the green it can see. This plant, which is a rhododendron (row·duh·den·druhn), isn’t supposed to be doing this yet this specific plant has browned before. When it first happened, I did a lot of research and talked to a few experts who assured me it was at its end. So one afternoon, I took my garden shears and cut it down, leaving a small stump on the ground. I chose, out of sheer laziness, to leave it there, planning to take care of it once spring rolled around. Yet when that future finally arrived, a green shoot suddenly sprouted. The plant’s tomorrow was, I thought, already decided and life wasn’t on its agenda. It was, however, still growing and it soon bloomed with several bright pink and purple flowers showering others with beauty, grace, and hope.
Now today’s reading from the book of Isaiah also includes a stump that showed signs of new life. These words, since they come from the first 39 chapters of this book, probably originated with the prophet Isaiah who lived approximately 700 years before Jesus’ birth. During Isaiah’s forty years of ministry, he watched the Assyrian Empire destroy ten out of the twelve tribes of Israel before turning its attention towards Jerusalem. Those in power, at the time, did all they could to survive. They formed alliances with nearby communities, strengthened their fortifications, increased the size of their military, and believed God was completely on their side. Isaiah, though, noticed that in their race to win the game they were playing that mercy, forgiveness, and justice were often in short supply. Those who were struggling to find food, access opportunities, and receive any kind of care were pushed aside and scapegoated as being a drain on the entire community. Rather than being for one another, folks turned on each other, trusting that their power, wealth, and strength would be what would finally save them. The community that saw itself as vibrant and full of life was instead, covered in spots that kept growing and growing.
And so it was in this context when Isaiah used in his preaching the image of a dried up stump. Whatever energy, vibrancy, and life this plant had was long gone. The stump served as a metaphor for the hope the community had when the son of Jesse, David, was anointed king 300 years before Isaiah was born. Their future, at the time, seemed almost endless and they couldn’t wait to see how everything would turn out. Things, however, did not go according to plan and the community’s faith and calling to care for one another was replaced by violence, suffering, and fear. The people, over and over again, chose to hoard life rather than share it and viewed each other with suspicion rather than sharing their love and support. The future the community built and trusted in would, according to Isaiah, never come. But rather than letting this be the end to its story, God chose to do something different. God wouldn’t merely judge those who failed to embody the mercy at the core of who their God chooses to be. God would keep creating by building the tomorrow we deny to ourselves and others. God will raise up a new royal figure who wouldn’t do what we do by using our power to inflict our will on those around us. Instead, this new king would be the wonderful counselor and prince of peace who builds a future for every person. God’s possibilities are always a kind of equalizer since the poor, the vulnerable, and the pushed aside will always be worth God’s intervention. And that’s because God imagines a world where the ways we devour one another for comfort and security are replaced by a reality where lions live with baby sheep, leopards hang out with defenseless goats, and children safely play in the home of a poisonous snake. When we let our future stay rooted in fear, selfishness, and a hopelessness that assumes everything depends on us, we end up covered in faithless spots that shape the relationship we have with ourselves, our neighbors, and with our God.
Now it’s our tradition on the Sunday nearest December 7th to put two red roses on the altar as a way to recognize a couple whose vision for the future gave several communities in Northern New Jersey a different future too. Anna and Dominick Ricci were pillars of this community and whose lives were shaped by their various vocations. Anna worked for a number of years on Wall Street and Dominick was very visible in a variety of roles at the old grocery store known as the A&P. Their lives were very full and when they moved into their later years, I’m told they used their financial gifts to prepare for the future they assumed was on its way. Dominick thought he’d go first and so he made sure to pick a gravesite in a cemetery Anna could easily reach by bus. They both wanted each other to have enough for whatever might come their way. But when Anna passed first, Dominick found himself living in a future he didn’t expect. He could have hunkered down, focused on his immediate needs, and lose himself in what he didn’t have. Dominick, though, chose to use his gifts to help others have their own futures too. He wanted his legacy to allow the communities that mattered to him the opportunity to focus on their mission in the world. And so their ongoing gift is the foundation for our Special Gifts fund which we have used, in a variety of ways, to remove all kinds of spots we see in our world. The congregation has chosen to fund the work of groups responding to disasters, fighting against food insecurity, and those who are making a difference among all the vulnerable parts of God’s creation. The Riccis’ generosity has allowed us to keep this place welcoming and inviting so that community groups, Meals on Wheels, A.A., and the Girl Scouts can focus their energy on care and service. The foundation the Ricci’s gave us has enabled us to weather incredible storms and deepen our relationships with all who call Northern New Jersey home. And while there is tendency to want to anxiously hold tight to this gift whenever we’re worried about what our tomorrow might be, the power of the Ricci’s legacy is how we are always invited to trust that God’s more holy, peaceful, and generous future is already on its way. This doesn’t mean we should ignore our own generosity since recognizing what God gives to each of us shapes our lives and our faith. What we get to do, instead, is to let the future the Ricci’s clinged to be a future we believe in too. And whenever our lives, our community, and our world feels like its a dried stump covered in spots of greed, pride, and hatred devouring whatever hope we have left, we can trust that the God who was willing to be born, live, love, die, and rise is still here – creating a different tomorrow for you and for the world.
Amen.