Sermon Archive

Wishful Thinking

© by Cheryl Pyrch
A sermon preached at Rutgers Presbyterian Church
on March 14, 2004;
Scripture Lesson: Isaiah 55:1-56:2

Thus spoke Isaiah. When we hear the words of Isaiah in church, we tend to lean forward and listen hard. We're attentive and serious, we hear the beauty of the language, but - if truth be told - half the time we have no idea what he's talking about. We've learned to be polite about it because we know that Isaiah is a prophet - an important prophet. He's quoted more than any other prophet in the New Testament. He's read more than any other prophet from the pulpit and the lectern, especially during Lent and Advent. Along with Jews, we've treasured his words for thousands of years, or at least think we should. But just as one person's rebel is another person's guerrilla is another person's freedom fighter, one person's prophet can be another's wishful thinker. Could Isaiah be accused of wishful thinking?

First, some background. The book of Isaiah is a collection of sayings from several prophets spanning generations. The one we just heard - I'll call him Isaiah - spoke these words in the middle of the 6th century BCE - about 540 years before Jesus was born. At that time, most of the priests, leaders and educated people of Israel lived not in Jerusalem, but in Babylon. The Babylonian Empire had recently crushed the small, weak kingdom of Judah, which itself was a pale remnant of Israel under King David, who had reigned 500 years earlier. When the Babylonians conquered a people, they exiled the leaders to other parts of their empire, where presumably they would cause less trouble. So the Jerusalem intelligentsia had been sent away. The city was in ruins. The glorious temple built by Solomon, the center of religious life, had been destroyed. Folks were hungry. They were a defeated people. So they wondered: where was our God? Gods were supposed to defend their people against other nations and gods, especially when their God was the one who created the earth and the heavens. Had God abandoned them or was he just weak? Perhaps Yahweh was no more than an idol, and they were better off worshipping the gods of Babylon. Given these circumstances, we can imagine how these words of Isaiah - claming to speak for God - must have sounded.

"Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat!" "Come, buy and eat?," folks might have asked. "Who exactly is selling that wine and milk without price? No one we know. And if you're talking to us about metaphorical bread and milk, please don't. Our stomachs are empty. That invitation is wishful thinking.

"And David, you say that God will make with us an everlasting covenant, of steadfast, sure, love for David. You say David was made a witness to the peoples, a leader and commander for the peoples, and nations that we do not know shall run to us because God has glorified us. How has David been a witness, leader and commander of the peoples? We've been losing land, power, and respect for the hundreds of years since he reigned, and now we're not even in Jerusalem. It's true," they may have conceded, "that Cyrus, the King of Persia, is marching against Babylon. Maybe the Persians will let us return to Jerusalem and rebuild the temple. But that's far from being "glorified" or having the nations run to us. That's wishful thinking.

"And this promise that God will abundantly pardon. Haven't you been telling us that all the disasters we've been facing are punishment for our sinful ways? Are we now to believe, with no sign, that God will show mercy? That we'll go out in joy and be led back in peace? That's wishful thinking." It would be nice if we could say that Isaiah was vindicated, that he was proved right and silenced his critics. But Israel never did regain her former glory. The exiles returned, the temple was rebuilt, Jerusalem restored, but Israel remained a small kingdom, under the heel of the Persians and the Greeks and the Romans. The monarchy and the temple were destroyed for good shortly after the death of Jesus. Even more in retrospect, Isaiah's words seem like wishful thinking.

Now they're more than that, and I'll get back to Isaiah, but first I'd like to acknowledge that we do a lot of wishful thinking ourselves. Usually our wishful thinking is more modest, more concrete. It often involves shopping. One day I'll be fit and strong and energetic ... and I'll start by buying these running shoes. Or we think that if we meet just the right person, our lives will fall into place. Or if we get a job with a more pay and less aggravation, our worries will be over. But when it comes to the big stuff, changes in our lives or in our world that might involve repentance, we tend to be realists.

In January we had a class on the AIDS pandemic. First we tried to wrap our head around some of the numbers: 42 million presently infected, 23 million already dead, 12 million children orphaned - and the epidemic still in its early stages. In some countries, over one-third of all people are infected with HIV. In Botswana or Zambia, I'd be considered a survivor, lucky to have lived as long as I have; life expectancy there is now 39 years. After looking at those numbers, we saw a film called A Closer Walk that you're all invited to see in a couple of weeks. We saw emaciated, anguished, children dying in hospital beds. We heard children and teenagers talk to us about losing their parents are learning they had AIDS. We heard doctors talk about the lack of medicines or other resources. I can't speak for others in the class, but my first response was to think: there's not much I can do, realistically. It's too big, the people in charge are too powerful. I don't have the time to learn what I need to learn or write all those letters. I can contribute to UNICEF and encourage the church to stick with its 1% commitment to AIDS, but I can't think about it too much. And my response is a common one. If you listen to world leaders and public health officials, you can see them throwing up their hands. We can't even think about fully treating or getting anti-retrovirals to folks in the developing world, some say. The drugs are too expensive, it's too complicated, the health systems are a mess and there just isn't enough money - it won't be cost effective. [After all, if we're spending $50 billion in Iraq this year, how can we spare another $10 billion for the UN AIDS fund?] Now - I'm not arguing against setting priorities or making compromises. I'm just noting how quickly we become realists and pragmatists when it comes to something that would involve change and sacrifice and effort and courage. Something that would involve repentance. I've picked a political example, but if we think about our own lives, don't we often aim low when it comes to believing that something profound could be different?

God calls us, through Isaiah, to do some wishful thinking - for ourselves and for the world. When we hear the cries of the millions of people sick from AIDS or tuberculosis, the millions more suffering from hunger, the millions who do not even have clean water to drink, God calls us through the words of Isaiah: "Everyone who thirsts is invited to the waters, and those without money to come, buy and eat! Maintain justice and do the right thing, for the word that comes out of my mouth will not return to me empty."

And when we think upon our own lives and hearts, and regrets or guilt or loneliness or discouragement makes us wish for only that we can be sure to get, God says to us, "Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Incline your ear, and come to me; listen so that you may live, for I will have mercy and abundantly pardon."

And if people accuse us of wishful thinking when we say that all people can have enough to eat; and if people accuse us of wishful thinking when we say that AIDS can be stopped and everyone cared for; and if inner voice accuses us of wishful thinking when we imagine a more abundant life for ourselves; we'll have to concede that they're right. But wishful thinking, this kind of wishful thinking, is also faithful thinking.

The people of Israel could have lost, or suppressed or forgotten these words of Isaiah. They could have dismissed him as a naive apologist for Yahweh and turned to other gods. But they didn't. They remained faithful to God, faithful to the hope and promise that all peoples would go out in joy and be led back in peace. The followers of Jesus also remained faithful, keeping these words. And when we falter, and wonder if this hope might really, just be our all-to-human wishful thinking, we can also remember these words of Isaiah:

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways, my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." May we remember these words and dare to do some wishful thinking.

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