Raising Up Foundations From the Ashes

A reading from the prophet Isaiah, the 58th chapter, verses 1 through 12. (NRSV)

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Shout out, do not hold back! Lift up your voice like a trumpet! Announce to my people their rebellion, to the house of Jacob their sins. Yet day after day they seek me and delight to know my ways, as if they were a nation that practiced righteousness and did not forsake the ordinance of their God; they ask of me righteous judgments, they delight to draw near to God.

“Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?” Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day, and oppress all your workers. Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to strike with a wicked fist. Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high. Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself? Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush, and to lie in sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord?

Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am. If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, thenceforth your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday. The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail. Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.

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For the people of Jerusalem, it was not easy being the people of God. After a generation of exile by the waters of Babylon, where songs of praise fell silent, the people have finally returned to Jerusalem. Many of the returning exiles have never seen Jerusalem, because they were born in a foreign land; their parents having taken the advice of Jeremiah to “build houses and live in them, multiply there and do not decrease.” For most of their lives, Jerusalem only existed as a story, a collective memory. And having returned, they find the city walls in ruins and the temple no more a reality than when they were in captivity.  The royal city, which once stood at the center of the united kingdoms of Israel and Judah now lies broken and leaderless, with peasants and refugees, priests and prophets, struggling to figure out how to go forward. Struggling to figure out how to be the people of God.

So, the people worship. They fast and humble themselves. But, God does not take notice in the way the people want, for they cry out, “Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?”  Speaking through Isaiah, God says of the people, “day after day they seek me and delight to know my ways, as if they were a nation that practiced righteousness and did not forsake the ordinance of their God.”  The complaint of God is familiar: with one hand the people fast and worship, while with the other hand they strike against the weak and quarrel with their neighbors.  The people seem to think that simple, outward pious acts will keep them in the favor of God.  Of course, this is far from the only place in scripture where we see this same conflict played out.  From the mouths of prophets like Amos and Micah, to Jesus own teaching on prayer and fasting, along with its stern reminder that “they have received their reward,” time and again the people of God have to learn what it means to truly worship and serve the God who created the universe and called it good.

It is not easy to be the people of God.  Between families and jobs, homework and housework, our social calendar and shopping list, sometimes it seems we barely have time to slow down.  Sometimes, however, it seems like all we have is time - as we wait for the phone call from our children, for the job, about the diagnosis - and in those moments of seemingly endless waiting, we think about decision made and paths left unexplored.  In these moments of life, when the world can seem broken and leaderless, sometimes it is all we can do to struggle to figure out how to go forward; to figure out how to be the people of God.

As we stand at the beginning of this Lenten season, I can’t help but ask myself what that means.  What does it mean to be the people of God, here and now?  What does it mean to be the people of God in a world where cities burn as protests rage unchecked, where nation invades nation under the pretense of peace, where Christian militias slaughter Muslim children in the name of justice?  What does it mean, when that violence hits all too close to home - taking the lives of middle school and high school students in our own communities, just because of the color of their skin, the beat of their music, or which classroom they were in when the shooting started?

My brothers and sisters, it means that these ashes are not enough.  No mere act of piety, no matter how well-intentioned, can ever be enough.  Were the people of Jerusalem wrong to fast and repent before God?  Are we?  Certainly not; but we are mistaken if we think that is all that is asked of us.  The spiritual disciplines of fasting and penitence are part of our tradition as the people of God precisely because they help open our eyes to how deeply we are in need of God’s grace in our lives, and how deeply our world is in need of the redeeming power of Jesus Christ.  We cannot be the people of God on our own - and we were never meant to.

A bit ago I asked the question what it means to be the people of God, here and now.  I want to put one possible answer before you tonight.  It is almost certainly not the only answer, but maybe it can be part of the picture for you.

We are called to be a people who are aware of our brokenness, but also sure of our forgiveness.  We are called to be so confident in the grace and mercy of our God that we can extend that same grace and mercy to all those around us, fasting not just from earthly things, but from all things that would hurt or divide us.  Friends, we are called to believe, that no matter how dark the night, that the dawn is coming.

Hear again the words of Isaiah:

Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly. Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am. The Lord will guide you continually; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail. Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.

Brothers and sisters, this Lenten season we are called to the work of the Kingdom, to bring wholeness out of brokenness and hope from despair; we are called to raise up foundations for many generations from these ashes.  May it be so.

Chris MillerComment