Sunday Worship 10 August | Lectionary Proper 14: Wrestling a Blessing

Isaiah 1:1, 10-20

The vision concerning Judah and Jerusalem that Isaiah son of Amoz saw during the reigns of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz and Hezekiah, kings of Judah.

Hear the word of the Lord, you rulers of Sodom; listen to the instruction of our God, tou people of Gomorrah! “The multitude of your sacrifices—  what are they to me?” says the Lord. “I have more than enough of burnt offerings, of rams and the fat of fattened animals; I have no pleasure in the blood of bulls and lambs and goats. When you come to appear before me, who has asked this of you, this trampling of my courts? Stop bringing meaningless offerings! Your incense is detestable to me. New Moons, Sabbaths and convocations— I cannot bear your worthless assemblies.Your New Moon feasts and your appointed festivals I hate with all my being. They have become a burden to me; I am weary of bearing them. When you spread out your hands in prayer, I hide my eyes from you;even when you offer many prayers, I am not listening. Your hands are full of blood! Wash and make yourselves clean. Take your evil deeds out of my sight; stop doing wrong. Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow."

“Come now, let us settle the matter,” says the Lord.“Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool. If you are willing and obedient, you will eat the good things of the land; but if you resist and rebel, you will be devoured by the sword.” For the mouth of the Lord has spoken.

Our Old Testament reading sees us with the prophet Isaiah. He is known as one of the major prophets, largely on account of the length of the book that bears his name, which covers the time periods before, during and after the exile to Babylon. The historical context set in the opening verse means that we can date the prophecies to the eighth century BC, and place the prophet in the southern kingdom of Judah. The entire book is attributed to one man, but many scholars believe that Isaiah was only responsible for the prophecies from before the exile, which represent the first thirty nine chapters of the book, with later unnamed prophets picking up and continuing his message. Because of this, you will sometimes see references to First, Second and Third Isaiah, although for simplicity I will simply refer to Isaiah this morning.

The book of Isaiah has particular significance for the church, because it is the scroll Jesus read from in his home synagogue at Nazareth, so we can be fairly certain that it is one of the scriptures he was familiar with since childhood, and it seems to have given him language by which he understood and expressed his ministry. It also contains a number of verses which are interpreted by many as foretelling the messiah, including the passages which speak of a virgin birth and the one who will be named Emmanuel, which I’m sure will be familiar to many of us from carol services. We must remember though that Isaiah spoke first to the Israel of his day, with a particular message for that time and those people. I often think prophecies are like poems or prisms, refracting into multiple layers and shades of meaning, and we need to hold together what they meant then and what they might mean now.

So with that background in mind, let’s get into the first chapter of Isaiah, which sees the prophet come in swinging with no holds barred. In the eight verses that are skipped over in the lectionary text, he tells the people of Israel that they are children of corruption and their land is desolate, and in the verses that follow our reading, he says their rulers are rebels and they will be disgraced by the things they have chosen. This is a pretty dire warning, although even there is still a glimmer of hope, as God promises to purge their dross and restore their leaders, so that the city of Jerusalem will once again be known as faithful and righteous. I don’t think I need to push too hard on the contemporary relevance of telling Israel their leaders are making deadly choices, but I do want to emphasise that all is not lost and there can be redemption and recovery from here.

In the verses chosen for this morning, there is an appeal to the rulers of Sodom and the people of Gomorrah. The previous verse reminds us that Sodom and Gomorrah have been destroyed, so this is clearly not a message for them, but a deliberate comparison between the people of Jerusalem and those former cities. The story of Sodom and Gomorrah has at times been misused to condemn homosexuality, so this is a good time to remember that the cities were actually condemned because of their abuse of the vulnerable and the stranger. According to Ezekiel, their sin was that “[they] were arrogant and overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy”. Such attitudes had clearly resurfaced in Isaiah’s day, and they were no less offensive to God then, just as they are no less offensive to God now.

As Isaiah continues, we see that God has become tired of empty ritual, sick of meaningless offerings and worthless assemblies. The sabbaths and the sacrifices, the feasts and the festivals, they are all pointless because they change nothing. These practices were given to draw people’s attention to what needed to be put right, but they have been treated as ends in themselves, and so injustice and inequality continue. The incense only serves to cover the stench so that the people no longer recognise what is rotten. Worship should be transformative not transactional, and that is true for us every bit as much as it was for the people of Israel to whom Isaiah spoke. It’s easy to point fingers, but we can be just as guilty of simply going through the motions. God says to us too: “Stop doing wrong. Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.”

There is a phrase towards the end of this passage that I think is just wonderful, and I want to bring this reflection to a close by looking at it. God says “come now let us settle the matter”, or “come let us argue it out” as another translation has it. There is an invitation here to hear God and be heard by God, as we reason together to work out what has gone wrong and how we can fix it. I think there is also an invitation here to wrestle with God as Jacob did, in the dark of a night on which he feared for his life, refusing to let go until he was given a blessing.

In the prologue to her book “Don’t Forget We’re Here Forever”, Lamorna Ash writes this of Jacob’s encounter, which ends with him naming the place Peniel, saying “It is because I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared”: "When God passed by Moses on Mount Sinai, He covered Moses' eyes with His hand because He knew no man might witness Him and survive the encounter. Just seeing God's shoulders in retreat had turned Moses' own face radiant. Elijah covered his eyes with a cloak when God came to speak to him in a still small voice on Mount Horeb. Only [Jacob] truly saw the face of God. Not in a flash, like a sudden sublime face in a crowd, but through wrestling with divinity. God's face emerged out of the struggle, the only way it could have. And Jacob was converted in that encounter. It took him all night [and] in the transformation he lost something of the self he had been before, but he came away with a blessing." So do not be afraid to argue it out with God, because that may be what it takes to be transformed.

Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for. By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.

By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God. And by faith even Sarah, who was past childbearing age, was enabled to bear children because she considered him faithful who had made the promise. And so from this one man, and he as good as dead, came descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as countless as the sand on the seashore.

All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

Our New Testament reading introduces us to another new book, the Letter to the Hebrews. Little is known about either its author or its audience, although its literary style suggests that it almost certainly was not written by Paul, and an apparent reference to it in the writings of Clement of Rome suggests that it was written in the first century and sent to a community in that city. What does seem clear is that its intended readers are in need of encouragement. Thomas Long says this of the letter: "The preacher is addressing a real and urgent pastoral problem, one that seems astonishingly contemporary. His congregation is exhausted...tired of serving the world, tired of worship, tired of Christian education, tired of being peculiar and whispered about in society, tired of the spiritual struggle, tired of trying to keep their prayer life going, tired even of Jesus." This is a message for the weary, not to shame them for not being faithful enough, but to strengthen them in the faith that has sustained them until now.

I think I’ve only heard a handful of sermons on Hebrews in my thirty seven years, but still this is a passage that is deeply familiar to me. When I was a child, we had a number of verses and poems hanging on the walls of our house, many of them stitched by my mum and now embroidered somewhere deep in my subconscious. One had the words: “Faith is to be sure of the things we hope for, to be certain of the things we cannot see”. It is of course a translation of the first verse of our reading, but the slight difference in the language made me want to look at other versions, and see what new light they could cast on these long known words.

The NLT reads “Faith shows the reality of what we hope for; it is the evidence of things we cannot see.” The KJV has “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” The CEV goes for “Faith makes us sure of what we hope for and gives us proof of what we cannot see.” And The Message tells us that “The fundamental fact of existence is that this trust in God, this faith, is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living. It’s our handle on what we can’t see.” Reality, substance, evidence, proof, foundation...they're clearly all in the same lexical ball park, but there’s enough diversity to suggest that the Greek doesn’t translate easily, so I decided to take a look at that too.

A key word in the first half of the verse, translated in our reading as confidence, is hypostasis. This comes from the Greek roots hypo meaning under and histemi meaning to stand. In other words, faith is the foundation that lies beneath our feet, or the fundamental ground of our reality. It is how we make sense of the world and it is the reason we hope as we do. Perhaps this is a rare occasion on which The Message actually gives us the most accurate translation!

A key word in the second half of the verse, translated in our reading as assurance, is elenchos. This has a sense of proof or conviction, but is also the name given to the Socratic method of argument, where a point is demonstrated through the back and forth of question and answer. In other words, faith is not the kind of evidence you would seek in court, but a discussion which leads us into truth. We’re back to wrestling with God, which may not sound very encouraging on the days when faith feels easy, but when you’re already in the fight, it may help to know that there is hope of limping away with a blessing at the end of it.

A counterpoint here, because I am wary of faith that is absolute certainty. As I said last week as we prepared to share in communion, there is a mystery at the heart of faith, and we must remain open to it. Too much certainty can harden faith into dogma, and that can close us off to the wind and the fire of the Spirit, and lead us to seek too much control over ourselves and others. Perhaps one way to express this tension is to say that I am certain of much but I am seeking much more, and my faith is found in the search as much as in the certainty.

Back to Hebrews, and having given a working definition of faith, the rest of the chapter is given over to worked examples of faith. We heard about Abraham and Sarah, but the writer also mentions Noah who followed God’s instructions and Jacob who passed God’s blessing to his grandsons and Moses who left his life of privilege for God’s sake, among many others. Here I think it is important to remember that while these people may be presented as heroes of faith, all of them were flawed. Noah shamed himself before his sons and Jacob split his family with jealousy and Moses did not see the promised land because of his disobedience. Perhaps faith is not about perfection but perseverance. Something to bear in mind as we reflect on who might be examples for us, or who we ourselves might be examples for.

The passage ends by speaking of those living by faith dying without receiving their promise, but still longing for a better country, the city God has prepared for them. There may be something deeply unsatisfying about the idea that we will not receive all we hope for in this life, but then the impossibility of that happening seems so obvious to me that I need a hope and a faith that can take me further. I am deeply invested in the here and now, and filling it with as much joy and peace and love as I can, but the fundamental ground of my reality tells me that there is more of all of it to come, so for me the better country is not hope deferred but hope assured.

I want to leave you with an extract from a sketch by Riding Lights Theatre Company. It was written for multiple voices, but I’m afraid this morning you’ll have to do with just mine: "Faith, a window. Death, a door. Beyond, an invisible strength, the word of God, a better country, not yet. From the beginning, faith has been a window...These all died in faith, staring through the open window. They saw what was to come. Faith is no escape from now. It blazes in the teeth of torture, chains, violence, affliction. It burns brightest under poverty, mockery, homelessness, abuse, decay. It is strength out of weakness, greater wealth than all the treasures of Egypt. The reward is not yet. We enter through the door, face to face with hope. Those who die in faith, do not die. They wait to receive the promise. We see it through the window of faith. God has prepared for them a city." May you look to that open window, and may the promise of the city beyond give you hope and strength for the life before. Amen.