Hello? You there? Why so much suffering? Why us? Where is God’s love?
My late father’s questions echo in my head as I read today’s chapter of Isaiah, in which difficult theological questions are wailed by the prophet.
In his latter years, frail enough to dare exploring doubts, my father wanted to ask God some tough questions about what he had experienced as a young Jewish man caught in the teeth of the Nazi regime. It came down to one question - why? And while no definite answers satisfied him, I believe that the mere ability to voice the questions, to know that they have already been asked in chapters such as this one, and that there’s much more than meets the eye - helped my father come to some inner peace and resolution with the unknown. Similar questions are asked by so many of us at difficult moments - fires in Maui and hurricanes in Haiti, violence and wars, diseases and death of loved ones. This exploration of answers to life’s big questions is defined as Theodicy - the attempt to reconcile divine existence with the presence of evil in our world.
Was this what Isaiah tried to do? Did he find comfort in his terrible accusations and questions?
Do we?
Just before the utopian vision that will seal the Book of Isaiah, today’s chapter goes real dark. With few words Isaiah laments the sorrow of exile, the hidden face of the divine, the burning temple and desolate homeland. It’s not clear which historical moment yielded this chapter - it may be Isaiah the Second, upon first sight of Jerusalem’s desolation post exile. It may be Isaiah the Third reflecting back on recent history. Either way what this prophet sees and questions is tremendous loss.
Isaiah picks up the dialogue with God that began in the previous chapter and asks on behalf of the nation: Where are you God? Why did you abandon us? And how can we find the strength within to believe in a deity that does not protect us from so much cruelty? These are the questions of the chosen people left to fight alone. Isaiah laments the lack of miracles and wonders aloud - who’s to blame? You God for hardening our hearts or we the people for not trying harder?
As these questions are hurled upward, the prophet describes what his eyes are looking at:
These open wounds have echoed again and again since, and the verses from today’s chapter literally become the litany of jewish generations instructed to always remember and never forget. In the Babylonian Talmud’s Tractate Moed Katan, a long discussion reviews the laws and customs of mourning. The discussion includes the instructions on when to tear one’s clothing as a sign of mourning - with words from today’s chapter to accompany this dramatic action:
“One who sees the cities of Judea in their desolation says: “Your sacred cities have become a desert” (Isaiah 64:9), and then rends his garments. One who sees Jerusalem in its desolation says: “Zion is a desert,, Jerusalem a desolation” (Isaiah 64:9), and then rends his garments. One who sees the Temple in its desolation says: “Our sacred and our beautiful house, where our fathers praised You, is burned with fire; and all our pleasant things are laid waste” (Isaiah 64:10), and then rends his garments.”
Tearing one’s garments is a ritual mostly conducted when one’s closest relatives die. I did so when my father died, and when my rabbi died. In some mystical circles there are those who rip their cloths on Tisha B’av or other fast days to follow this Talmudic ruling. For generations, the humiliation of Jerusalem and these words of Isaiah went hand in hand, an ongoing quest and set of haunted questions.
In the next chapter, Isaiah will bring the divine response. For now, he leaves us hanging in the silence, looking at the landscape of loss.
It's about our questions as they linger, restless, in the face of silence. The chapter ends with this last loud question: How much longer? Will we live to see the days in which divine intervention will rebuild our dreams:
“Upon all such matters, how long will You restrain Yourself, O ETERNAL One,
Will You stand idly by and let us suffer so heavily?”
Tough questions, including those asked by my father, Isaiah, and so many survivors of horrors everywhere, still linger, no matter how many wise answers exist in the words of our prophetic archives and deep inside our knowing hearts.
THIS THURSDAY: OUR NEXT BELOW THE BIBLE BELT ZOOM TALK:
Goodbye Isaiah, Hello Jeremiah
Please join me on Zoom for our next Monthly Conversation, as we wrap up the Book of Isaiah, venture into Jeremiah’s world and explore what these ancient prophets have to offer our inner and political lives - just in time for a new Jewish year and continued political challenges - everywhere.
Join us on Thursday, August 17th 2023, at 1pm ET.
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