Isaiah prophesies from the time of the Babylonian Captivity of Judah saying, "Build up, prepare the road, remove every obstruction from my people's way.

His imagery is that which we also hear just before Christmastide, "Behold, prepare the way! The mountains shall be laid low and the valleys filled in, and my people shall have a clear path to go home to the Holy City, Jerusalem.

What is it to go home to the Holy City, Jerusalem? I wonder.

The prophecy would have one visualize cosmic bulldozers, lined up and creating a giant super-highway all the way form Babylon, through the wilderness, to Jerusalem.

"Prepare the Way - Remove every obstruction," says Isaiah.

But, what are the obstructions to going home? What prevents a people from being fully human in the image of God? Whatever they are, the barriers are coming down, says Isaiah. God is at work.

Immediately, in this reading, it becomes clear that these barriers are not the mountains and valleys of the wilderness, but rather the mountains and valleys of the human experience. They are the barriers of spirit that separate the peo0ple of Judah from their true home, their true being.

"Because of their wicked covetousness, I was angry," reports Isaiah. "But, God will heal them, lead them, and give them peace."

What are our barriers to being true to God's call?
What is it that prevents us from going home?
What stands in the way of our true humanity?

During this past week, I found an interesting retrospective in a manor journal, which most of you must surely read.

It is from the, "Moosehead Messenger," of Greenville, Maine. You will find it in the "Livestock Market Digest" section.

"What's mainly wrong with society today," the journalist writes, "is that too many dirt roads have been paved.

There's not a problem in America today: crime, drugs; divorce, education; delinquency, or whatever; which wouldn't be remedied if we just had more dirt roads; for dirt roads have character.

People who live at the end of dirt roads learn early on that life is a bumpy ride. It can jar you right down to your teeth, sometimes; but its worth it. At the end of the dirt road is home; a loving spouse, happy kids, and a dog.

We wouldn't have nearly the trouble with our educational system if our kids walked a dirt road to school with other kids. They would learn how to get along, even to look out for each other.

There was less crime in our streets before they were paved. Criminals didn't walk dusty miles to rob. There were too many barking dogs. Our values were better when our roads were worse! People didn't worship their cars more than their kids, and motorists were more courteous when they might be the next ones in need of help or a place to sleep.

Dirt roads taught patience; and what if it rained? That was the bast part. You stayed home. At the end of dirt roads you soon learned that bad words tasted like soap.

Most paved roads lead to trouble; dirt roads are more likely to lead to a fishing creek or a swimming hole. So says the Moosehead Messenger; and so might one find one's true humanity at the end of a dirt road.

Look at Jesus, for a moment, in today's Gospel reading.

The disciples had been off visiting towns and peoples around the highlands of Galilee. It had been stressful in that in some places people ridiculed them or were too busy to pay attention to them or to their healing message that God was among them.

Some people persisted in leaving their barriers to abundant living solidly in place. Others heeded the disciples' words and invited them in to hearth and home and heart; and God was present with them as a result. It must have been memorable, for the disciples, falling all over themselves with excitement, tumbled home to Jesus in triumph.

So, before they could tun their excitement into a television empire, Jesus took them aside, down a dirt road, for rest and reflection. That was the first part of today's Gospel reading.

Unfortunately, the word got out. A great leader had arisen in Galilee, it was said, and 5,000 men appeared - followed Jesus down that dirt road.

Note that they were seated in groups of 100, the Century, the standard fighting unit of the day. These people came ready for battle to claim Jesus as their leader. The people were on the verge of revolt and huge loss of life. Jesus knew that their real problem lay within. We often externalize our problems and blame others, or the government, perhaps. Killing Romans would not have helped. They would not have been freed from their barriers by killing and being killed. War exists to dehumanize; and it does it very well to both winner and looser. Every combat soldier knows this truth.

So, Jesus works a great miracle in that place. He talks to them. They sit down. They are hungry, another metaphor.

The little band of disciples are a few loaves short of a full meal themselves. "Send them away," say the disciples, or there will be nothing left for us! No, said Jesus. This is the end of a dirt road. They have nowhere left to go. Give them everything we have. They did; and it was enough for everyone, and more. The men went away satisfied, their hidden swords un-drawn, un-bloodied.

What driven-ness we experience in our own time and place! What de-humanizing obstacles we raise! Do our endless paved roads, automobiles, and computers help us to overcome obstacles or do they simply allow us to erect new and better ones more efficiently?

Is our goal to become truly human? How can one tell? How do we measure true humanity? Our paycheck? The size of the house we rarely see in daylight?

Or is our true humanity defined by the Christ of God, working his miracles whenever we pay attention and note that God has walked among us?

At the end of a dirt road, writes the Messenger, there were always some city dudes who would drive a car down there and get stuck trying to turn around. You'd hitch up a team and pull them out.

Sometimes you got a dollar; always you got a new friend, At the end of a dirt road.