What is a better motivator for societal change - fierce fear or radical hope?
Another reason for suspecting that this chapter, like the one before it, was composed way after Isaiah dies, is the direct appeal to the exiles of Jerusalem, eager to make their way back home. And the tone is exalted - it’s promising what perhaps can not be promised - a full on happy end. Unlike some of Isaiah’s darkest visions - this one begins and ends with future joy.
The chapter begins with the blooming desert, wilderness becoming a luscious rose garden. What are the odds? The poet-prophet - pretending to be Isaiah - heaps hope upon his people, deep in their diasporic despair. The images of the redemption are embodied — the blind will see again, the deaf will hear, the lame will walk and the weak hearts will strengthen - everything is going to be alright.
This consolation prophecy insists on future joy, and if indeed the context is a message to the people of Judea who have seen their kingdom gone - it is a brave and beautiful commitment to courage and persistence, optimism and faith. It may not be realistic - but isn’t this kind of hopeful poetry what people in despair need most? In our darkest moments do we need all yearn to be told that everything will work out?
Rabbi Deena Cowan, wrote about this moment, reflecting on how visions of the future can be turned from doom - to hope:
“In 1947, a group of scientists created “The Doomsday Clock” which tells how close we are to a human-made global catastrophe. The closer the “time” is to midnight, the closer we are to “doomsday”.
When the scientists first set the clock, we were seven minutes from midnight.
Today, 2023, it is 90 seconds to midnight.
The clock has been set backwards and forwards 23 times in its 72 year history.
Many of us have lived most of our lives within a few minutes of midnight; we have always walked with the burden of understanding that one or two moments, whether they are bad decisions on the part of policy makers, or failures to heed the warnings of climate scientists, are all that separate us from complete societal or environmental breakdown.
So when we read this chapter of Isaiah, which describes a joyful, messianic time full of growth and healing, perhaps we cannot even imagine the lightness of spirit this chapter shows us.
The desert suddenly in bloom? Abundant water bursting forth from parched land? People able to travel in peace and safety? The descriptions of physical healing are, for many in the disability community, a disturbing white-washing of physical diversity. In this context, however, we can read them as a desire for humanity to be free of the physical and emotional suffering that comes from living under great duress.
As more countries experience catastrophic climate change, and as this change forces more people to seek safety and security in foreign lands, Isaiah’s vision begins to feel absurd.
Which is exactly why we need to read this chapter. The scientists of the Doomsday Clock recently labeled our time “the new abnormal”, warning us not to get too comfortable with this existence on the precipice of disaster. We have been here so long that we might forget how close we are to losing the world as we know it. We must not get comfortable here, but rather set our sights far away from midnight, on a time when we can see a light on the horizon and feel hope and joy. Then, as verse 10 promises, we shall be crowned with the joy of the world on our heads, not live with the burden of our impending destruction on our shoulders.”
Like strange clockwork, the Jewish calendar meets our 929 journey again, echoing Isaiah’s prophecies, the history he’s living, and what remains of it in our lives. Tomorrow marks the fast day of the 17th Tammuz, an ancient day of grief for many reasons including the beginning of the destruction of the first temple in Jerusalem. Past, presence and future fuse hopefulness with hope, as we read these ancient words in a world still eager for promise - no matter what, however we got here, everything, one way or another, for us or for those who come after us, will, hopefully be alright?
In hope we trust. And in joy. Perhaps we will live to see the day on which signs and sorrow flee from us?
And in the meanwhile we are invited to learn from the past how we can perhaps be more present - and better prepared for whatever waits in the future.
Will we listen to the prophets?
Below the Bible Belt: 929 chapters, 42 months, daily reflections.
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