Looking at the Isaiah text – this is a prayer
Outline of the prayer - thanks to Carson Brisson: (1-4) Awesomeness of God/ acting redemptively in historical events / wanting God to act so decisively AGAIN that it will impress even the “non-elect” / community must exercise faithful waiting – what time is it? Time for the divine initiative (5-7) We mess up, prayer of confession/ Usually we are the “doing right ones” but not this time / God’s norm is communion with the chosen, this anger is a departure/ Broken community is a very serious condition, and they want God back (8-9) But You created us (same verb as in Genesis), so You should help us / The prodigal son returns and says YOU are OUR Father (10-11)Holy cities become a wilderness (12) Double questions – will you punish us on and on? Not necessarily “severely” / Silence the greatest depth of punishment, New Jerome Biblical Commentary “Stubborn faith that God is still able to act”
The authors that I like that seem most real on the subject of prayer boil prayer down to two things – either help me, help me, help me, or thank you, thank you, thank you This prayer has elements of both – in the plea of the Israelite people for God to remember all the great things that happened before, turn from anger, and comfort them against their enemies But we who live in today’s world are a bit skeptical about prayer, because we are slow to trust in a God who could be so easily manipulated by our whims and desires: The God who gets angry and punishes seems like an abusive parent, why should we try to appeal to God’s good side if God will only punish us again? The God who finds us parking spots seems a bit too small and parochial, why should we expect the God of the universe to care if I have to walk from the far side of the mall on Black Friday when there’s other business obviously not getting taken care of? And yet we, like the Israelites, yearn for a more personal or special kind of relationship with this vast God of the universe How does that work? How can we find a way of praying that is real and authentic to our understanding of God? Nevada Barr in her essay on prayer in her book Seeking Enlightenment Hat by Hat says, “As long as I thought of God as a cross between Superman and Santa Claus with a cell phone and myself as a lobbyist for my own needs, I was doomed to atheism, confusion, and resentment.” (p.50) So prayer is a bit of a tricky thing. We pray in all sorts of situations and we hope for answers, but it isn’t quite clear if we want Superman to come and save the day, or Santa Claus to toss us a few gifts in the form of blessings so we can feel happy even if only for a time. Apparently, thinking of God in this way won’t work for us either. We need to pray from the very depths of our being and yet somehow get it that there’s something out there far greater than ourselves. The Israelites prayed a lot, and many of our Bible belt neighbors pray a lot, but I find that many of us caught between old world and new find prayer to be an exasperating enterprise. We know that it doesn’t work on our demands, so should we really be asking for what we want, or trying to figure out what God wants. If God is omnipotent anyway, won’t God see through our smoke and mirrors? If I drawl out my “JEEEESUS” does it somehow work better to my advantage? We’ve seen the studies that say prayer helps or doesn’t help people in hospitals, but the far greater evidence is that there’s really nothing conclusive. So why should we bother? Is prayer still worth the trouble of our time? I like the gutsyness of this Israelite prayer because it is both passionate and definitive. It addresses God with some pretty blatant assessments of God’s character and attempts to sway God back from being so angry with them. It says to God, “There’s a time to act, and that time is NOW.” Our prayers can be like that without succumbing to the temptation of the prayer being all about me, about my wishes and desires. Perhaps our most faithful ones jump right out like this. No wishy-washy “send me a sign” or “tell me what to do” stuff. We are in the desperate throws of the “help me” mode when one of our children is doing harm to themselves and we are helpless to stop it. We are in “save us” mode when we recognize the desolation found in our own urban centers and poorest counties. We cry out in the pain and anguish of our every day existence that puts us face to face with our own mortality. It seems as though God could never, ever help us enough. But we must be stubborn enough to believe that God can and will still act – and act redemptively. The problem is that children still die, wars increase, communities decay and it seems painfully obvious that God has lost the divine touch. Especially we who find ourselves in a tradition that prides itself on God being in control, this out-of-control world can do much to shake our faith. The punishment of God’s creation does seem to go on and on and on. The time of Advent waiting is here. The taste in our mouths for something “more” is palpable. The texts of old remind us that God’s time is not our time and just when things seem to be most desperate, situations unfold to reveal God’s creative and redemptive hand at work. But it will take open eyes and open ears to see and hear all around us. Some will remain closed off to God’s work, and yet for some the “aha” will be so bright and startling as to seal our hope in God forever. There’s an illustration that’s been floating around preaching circles lately, from an installation service here in the Presbytery, to “Pastor Peg’s Preaching Page” online, to Billy Graham to the commencement service at Princeton Seminary only a year ago. It is a reminder of just what the Israelites were feeling at this time of Isaiah’s prayer for the community to be restored in their relationship with God. It’s a reflection of the Markan text when we pray for the coming of Jesus in desperate times, and aren’t really sure what we’re praying for. [The story] tells of an oil painting depicting Faust engaged in a chess game with the devil. Faust, you will recall, was the man who gambled his life with the devil and lost. The look on Faust’s face in the painting is one of abject despair. He has been reduced to a few pawns, a knight, and his king. From across the chessboard the devil leers at him in anticipation of his expected victory. …chess players from around the world came to the gallery to study the board situation, and all agreed that the position of Faust was hopeless. Indeed, the painting was entitled "Checkmate". One day, a renowned chess master came to view the painting. Other viewers came and went, but still he pondered the position of the pieces on the board. Then, people in the gallery were startled when this chess master suddenly shouted out, "It’s a lie. The king and the knight have another move." Thomas Gillespie, Commencement Sermon - There Be Dragons, in Princeton Seminary Bulletin, Volume XXV, Number 2, 2004. The message that we can get from this story is that even in desperate times when we feel face to face with evil, God still has moves to make beyond what feels like “checkmate.” Our prayers are not in vain unless we expect to get easy answers and platitudes. The God of the universe is not running around to be our superhero or to stop death in its tracks. We will still have disappointments when we cry out “help me” and God’s sighing answer is “no.” But the joy is that we can still find ways to say “thank you.” With some intense consideration and willingness to see, God’s moves are still ahead of our moves. God’s grace is strangely revealed. Amen.
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