 |
| - - photo by Ryan Berry |
and take a step into the darkness
of the unknown,
we must believe that one of two things will happen--
There will be something solid
for us to stand on,
Or, we will be taught how to fly."
--Patrick Overton, The Learning Tree
(Isaiah 58.1-12)
They had come back from exile. Little handful of Jews.
Bringing what few belongings they could carry. A few animals. Their children.
Sometimes their grandchildren. For fifty years they had dreamed of this day.
Homecoming. Seeing old relatives, friends they had been separated from for
years and years. Just being home—touching the base once more. Feeling they were
where they were supposed to be. It was wonderful.
But it wasn’t that easy. Israel knew that. Back home many of
their relatives had died—or grown apart. The years had taken their toll and
widened the distance. Some of their children had intermarried in Babylon and
did not return with them. And that was a grief. Looking around, most of the
landmarks: theTemple, their homes—the communities had been destroyed. As far as
they look in any direction—everything needed attention.
Isaiah 55-66 addresses this very difficult time. Darkness,
like a depression, settled over them and all they did. In their disappointment
and frustration they saw no end to all this work and rebuilding. Doesn’t it
ever get any easier, they asked? We’ve asked it too, doesn’t it ever get any
easier?
And so Isaiah came, saying let me tell you what God demands.
Not fasting. Not attending synagogue. Not even keeping the Torah. The light
will come in ways you do not suspect.
 |
| photo by Unumunkh |
Isaiah, then, gives his people and us three ways that we
might better look into the faces of our brothers and sisters. And this is what
God asks:
Justice
You recognize your brothers and sisters when you loose the hands of
injustice. (58.6) And so he gives us this word, justice. It was first a
legal term. They would keep the law given through Moses. This was their
standard. They would obey what Yahweh had asked them to do. Justice was a rare
word—then and now. It was not used often then or now. Justice was used
interchangeably in the Bible with the word, righteousness.
It is also a judicial word. It meant fair. People are
treated equitably. God was just—fair. He had a special regard for the poor, the
weak, and this was the policy demanded of God’s people. Ever wonder why, after
all these years of progress—we still observe Black History Month in February.
You might ask Michelle Obama.
You also might ask a man named Clifton Taulbert. He tells
his story in a moving book, Once Upon a
Time When We Were Colored? It was also made into a film. Mr. Taulbert grew
up in a small town in Mississippi as a “colored child” (his words). He served
as President of Freemount Corporation,
a marketing and consulting firm. He is a best selling author and speaks all
over the country. But in his book he tells about growing up in a tiny place
called Glenn Alan, Mississippi. Life was hard. But his family worked hard. He
started work in an icehouse when he was twelve years old. Moving around huge
three-hundred-pound blocks of ice with his Uncle Cleve. It was difficult work,
especially for a boy, but he was told if he worked hard, by the end of the
summer. Before he went back to school Uncle Cleve would reward him with a trip
to the circus in Jackson. So he worked and got ready and looked forward to the
trip. He fanaticized about the animals and the band and the beautiful women in
sequined tights and acrobats on the high wires. He couldn’t wait. Finally the
day arrived. Clifton got up early, put on his Sunday best, was ready at three
o’clock in the morning when Uncle Cleve arrived. They wanted to be there by the
opening at seven AM. It took a long time to drive that 150 miles from Glenn
Alan to Jackson, but they finally got there. Clifton had never seen anything
like Jackson, Mississippi. It was big and bustling with tall buildings and
people everywhere. Finally they found the circus. They paid their money, bought
their tickets, went through the gate and followed the crowd to the main tent.
It was wonderful, sitting there—watching the sights, the sounds and the wonder.
The band was playing, people were yelling and you could smell the popcorn
everywhere. And then it happened, an
usher came over to them and said, “You’ll have to leave. I am very sorry, but
this ain’t the night for the Nigger’s.” And he and his Uncle got up and left
the tent and went back home. Clifton said it was a long way back home. And they
rode in silence. And he kept trying to hold back the tears and nobody said a
word.[i]
Freedom
You recognize your brothers and sisters when you undo the thongs of the
yoke and let the
oppressed go free. (58.6) If the first word is
justice, the second word is freedom.
 |
| photo by hornet 59 |
When Israel heard this word it stirred memories. They
thought of that exodus when their forebears had crossed the sea on dry land to
freedom. They thought of that second exodus when King Cyrus had come into
Babylon and set them free and let them return home. Freedom. Wondrous word.
Freedom from fate, from blind, impersonal, powers. Freedom from “this is the
way it is.” Freedom from “this is the way the world works.” Freedom from sin.
Liberated from the power that cripples. We’ve all heard this week of the tragic
death of one of our finest actors. He was in his forties. Many said he was one
of the greatest actors we had. Yet they found him dead in his apartment, a
needle in his arm—surrounded by seventy packets of heroin.
There is a freedom from evil powers. Paul calls them powers
and principalities. Carlyle Marney wrote a whole book years ago calling them Structures of Prejudice. In which we
devise systems where only the right people are admitted even today to our golf
courses and country clubs. Reckon this applies to churches? It isn’t that we
put up signs anymore saying certain people are not welcomed. It is much more
subtle than that. A friend told me that as a project in his Seminary he was to
live as a street person in Chicago for one weekend. He was given five dollars
and dressed like a homeless person and had to make-do for himself that whole
weekend. He was white. And he said on
Sunday morning it was cold and he decided to get in out of the cold and go to
church. The church let him in but it obvious they he was not really welcomed.
An Usher led him to a seat in the back of that large sanctuary. People kept
looking at him with his smelly clothes and three-day beard. The powers and
principalities are everywhere. Ask those on Food Stamps how they feel as they
peel off those stamps at the Grocery store.
There were also the powers of death. William Stringfellow
used to talk about how every institution gives itself to the powers of death.
Government, business, education, religion. What have I left out? The charade in
Washington? So many of our actions are not life giving. What is this resistance
to gun control when little children are dragging handguns to school all over
this country? The New York Times reports that nearly 32,000 persons are killed
by guns each year. The power of death
is all around us.
That freedom also touched a people who loved the law. And
then and now there was a religious law that bound them down. A fundamentalism
that was more concerned with rules and regulations than people’s rights. And we
have heard this book, this wonderful book used as a club against blacks and
women and against gays and especially the poor. Where did we forget those words
from the freedom book, Galatians: “There
is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer
male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus. And if you belong to
Christ, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise.”(Gal.
3.28-29)
There was freedom from economic oppression. What was their
year of the Jubilee all about unless it was that every seven years all the
debts would be erased and people could start all over again? It was a dream
that one day you would get out from under this heavy, heavy load. Rome ruled in
Jesus’ time. Rome pushed them around and made all their decisions. Talk about
big government. They had no freedom, these Jews. And they read Isaiah 58 in the
synagogues and in the little house churches to know that there would come a
time when they would be oppressed economically no longer.
Compassion
 |
| photo by compassionatebloggers |
I like the
definition of this word that Frederick Buechner gives us. “Compassion is the sometimes fatal capacity
for feeling what it’s like to live inside somebody else’s skin. It is the
knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there
is peace and joy finally for you too.”[ii]
Isaiah says it is not once but twice. If you let your finger
move on down the page not only does he talk about compassion in this seventh
verse but he returns to this theme in the latter part of the ninth verse: “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, then your light shall rise in
the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday.”(58.9b-10)
The heart of our faith is compassion. In the last parable he
ever gave they asked him: “When did we see you hungry, naked, sick, thirsty, in
prison…” And remember what he said to them: “Inasmuch as you did in unto the
least of these you did it unto me.”
I remember a story that I think expresses this sentiment as
much as anything I know. John Tadlock was Campus Minister at Jacksonville State
(AL) years ago. And he told me one day about a young man from Fort Payne that
came to Jacksonville State as a freshman. Because he was lonesome and looking
for friends, he wandered into the Baptist Student Union one night. They sounded
a call for Choir members and so he stayed. He had a pleasant bass voice. But he
couldn’t read music and everybody else in the choir could read music. There
were a lot of prima donnas and, of course, several music majors. He was quiet
and friendly and didn’t say much. The Choir paid little attention to this
newcomer. They told their in-jokes and had the best time with each other. A
couple of them made fun of him behind his back because he was from little old
hickey Fort Payne, Alabama. Somebody laughed because he couldn’t read music. He
finally got the message. You see, people always do. He quit coming to choir. He
quit coming to the BSU. He joined PiKA fraternity instead. If you go to the BSU
office today at Jacksonville State you’ll see a framed picture of the visitor’s
card that the young man filled out his first visit. He has sung all over the
world. His name is Randy Owen, lead singer in the band, Alabama.
No comments:
Post a Comment