Mountaintop Feasts - Isaiah 25:6-9

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

I would like to tell you a story about a woman whom I’ll call Maxine. In Maxine’s nursing home room, at the foot of her bed, was a picture of a mountain. The perspective was that you were on a small hill looking upward.  Tall pine trees stood strong and green, contrasting with the bright fall colors of red, gold, and brown of the other trees that lined the avenue of sight, guiding your eyes to the sharp-pointed mountains capped with snow in the distance. Our conversation had lulled one afternoon, so I asked about the painting, which I assumed to be one of the Rockies.

In no uncertain words, Maxine told me that she was the artist who painted the picture but I was terribly wrong about the location. “Those are the Berkshires,” she told me, and proceeded to tell me about those beautiful mountains of western Massachusetts and Connecticut that she loved so much. She described the mountains – as only an artist could – with her memories of the brilliance of the fall colors, the smells of the leaves, the sound of the wind through the trees. This was a woman who knew beauty and did her part to recreate that beauty through her artwork for others to enjoy.

The sad irony of this story is that the painting hanging on her wall was, in fact, one that she had painted of the Rockies, her daughter told me. But Maxine didn’t know that because her eyes were so clouded by illness and old age that she couldn’t see the painting any longer. In fact, her eyes were so bad she could distinguish bright from dark and could see fuzzy outlines of big shapes, but that was about it. While her memories of the Berkshires were sharp, her eyes – sadly – had grown dull. The mountains and their beauty were nothing more than memories.

In the first reading for today, you have another artist, named Isaiah, who paints a picture with words about another mountain God promised to reveal. This is not a mountainside fading into Israel’s memories, like Sinai or Moriah or Caramel, a whispy story of generations past, but a mountainside clearly grounded in the promises of God. He paints us the picture of what is to come in the arrival of Messiah.

Isaiah is a true artist; he paints us a picture of what the day of salvation will look like. He begins with food. Food and fellowship go hand-in-hand; food and God’s blessings, His very presence also go hand-and-mouth. That’s important because in Isaiah 24, the chapter preceeding this one, it seems that God’s presence has been removed because of Israel’s sins. That the Lord speaks through Isaiah and reintroduces food, fellowship, and the presence of God is part of the grace and mercy of God for His people.

There will be a “feast of rich foods” on that mountain. God doesn’t worry about cholesterol. The best parts of the meat were the fatty parts and the marrow, where all the flavor is. “The steaks are this thick and marbled,” he might say today, “and the wine…” With his eyes rolling for effect, he would add “it’s the best wine that there is. It’s the oldest and clearest, rich with subtle flavor.”  Every drop was to be savored, every morsel to be explored. Feasts like this, the kind of party that Isaiah is describing, is the kind that was reserved for only the most special occasions.

The occasion is a victory feast. It’s as if Isaiah is saying, On this mountain he is going to destroy the thing that we all live in fear of and the burial shroud that covers us, death itself, is going to be destroyed. The Lord will remove it tear it to pieces and it will not bother us any longer! Then on this mountain, we are all going to have a feast!

In the context, Isaiah is looking forward to Israel returning to Jerusalem, being set free from the exile of their enemies and able to return home. He is looking forward to the Temple being rebuilt and the glory of the Lord returning to the Temple where feasting and sacrifice can be made. He is looking forward to prayers and incense being lifted heavenward. Life would be restored to the city. The Lord would not abandon them, after all.

But Isaiah is also looking forward to another mountain. Well, it’s more of a hillside, really. The Romans called it Calvary; the people of Jerusalem called it Golgatha. Both mean, “the place of the skull.” There, Jesus took that shroud from our sin-burdened shoulders and placed it upon His own sinless body. He wore it for us, wrapped up in it as he bled and died on the cross. It clung to him for three days, tying to hold him. But, Jesus Christ is the master of that shroud, He is more powerful than death, and in His death and His resurrection, He broke free from its power, removing it from us forever.

The last enemy is death and in Christ, grief is also gone. Sorrow and sighing, they, too, flee the presence of the resurrected Christ and tears are all dried, wiped from our faces by the One who redeems. 

That is the victory celebrated that Isaiah was celebrating, even though it was still far in the future. It’s interesting – look at the verbs: all are future. He will make a feast, He will swallow up death, He will wipe away tears, He will take away their reproach. All future-tense, it will happen. And, all of those verbs are grounded in the past-tense event that continues to move forward: “for the Lord has spoken.” Even though these things were still centuries in the future, their certainty rests in this: the Lord has spoken.

You, my dear brothers and sisters, you have that sure promise as well: The Lord has spoken to you on this holy hillside. The Lord has spoken: He calls you to Himself in Holy Baptism. The Lord has spoken: He forgives all of your sins in Christ Jesus. The Lord has spoken: take and eat; take and drink. The Lord has spoken: depart in peace.

And, unless the Lord comes first – which is a growing possibility, more likely each day – the Lord will speak to you again and call you in resurrected glory from the grave. When he does, death won’t even be able to stalk us any longer. It has now already lost its power. It is now already nothing to fear. On that great day, it will be no more. There will be no death to bring separation from our loved ones. There will be no death to cause pain and loneliness. There will be no more death, period… its cold dark shadow will be obliterated by the Light of the Living Son of God.

Let’s paint a picture in our mind of what that mountain-top feast will look like. Close your eyes for a moment. You are in a clearing on a beautiful top – the sky is blue, the air is sweet with the smells of flowers and trees and grass. It’s pretty, but what you notice is the people – there are people everywhere, but it is comfortable, not crowded. There are long tables as far as the eye can see and people are eating at the tables, stacked with food. There are huge dark crusty loafs of hot bread, steam rising off each one, fresh from the oven. The smell is intoxicating. Brisket, ham, chicken, fish – all Gordon Ramsey approved. The tables are so crowed with serving dishes, the plates hang off the edge. There are decanters, full of dark red wine; the tablecloth has pink spots from the great red drops that have fallen. The beer is frothy and ice cold. You are sitting there, elbow to elbow, with your family and friends; with your loved ones who have died in the Lord. That pain in your hip and the tremor of your hand doesn’t bother you any more; you don’t even remember what it felt like. It is noisy (good kind of noisy) and happy. And the center of it all is Jesus. Standing, arms open wide. You’ve already been with him, leaned upon his breast and cried tears of joy. You saw the marks in his hands and feet and side. He is the reason you are there. His love lights the whole feast. It will never end… the joy, the singing, and the feasting… with the resurrected Savior.

There is singing… you join in, because you know each and every word, flowing out of you as natural as breath. You sing the wonderful words of Isaiah, at the great mountaintop feast, “This is our God; we trusted in him, and he saved us. This is the LORD, we trusted in him; let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation." Amen.