Sermon for October 13, 2024: Imagine Together: Enough at Every Table based upon Isaiah 55

​Isaiah 55 An Invitation to Abundant Life

Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good,   and delight yourselves in rich food. Incline your ear, and come to me; listen, so that you may live. I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David. See, I made him a witness to the peoples, a leader and commander for the peoples. See, you shall call nations that you do not know, and nations that do not know you shall run to you, because of the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, for He has glorified you.

Seek the Lord while He may be found, call upon Him while He is near; let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts; let them return to the Lord, that He may have mercy on them, and to our God, for He will abundantly pardon. 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.

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,   and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

For you shall go out in joy, and be led back in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall burst into song, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands. Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress;   instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle; and it shall be to the Lord for a memorial, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off. 

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     Think to a time of celebration in your life. Tell me what kind of celebration it is: a wedding, a holiday gathering, an anniversary, a birthday party, a graduation, completion of a big project, a welcome home. Did you eat when you celebrated? What did you eat? What kind of things did you eat? Cake! Steak! Brownies! Mashed Potatoes! Tacos! Pizza! Today's scripture is a story about celebration. Pizza is, unfortunately, not listed as one of the celebration foods. But, milk, honey, and wine are! And there's water and bread... probably fancy spring water and crusty focaccia bread. God says to the people, “Listen carefully and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food.” It has been a long journey and you are home. Let's celebrate!

     Today's reading is from a portion of Isaiah that scholars call “Second Isaiah.” Remember, even though tradition credits this book to the work of one prophet, it was likely written over generations and inspired by several events and different prophets who had similar themes to the oldest parts by Isaiah. Second Isaiah is a series of what Patricia Tull calls “poems of hope” found in chapters 40- 55. Our reading for the day is the culmination of this vision of a hopeful future written for the group of people who were taken into exile in Babylon. The prophecy is clear: God is inviting God's people into great abundance. But, they must be willing to do something in order to get to the table.

     You remember that Babylon, in conquering Judah, destroyed Jerusalem and kidnapped many citizens of Judah, forcing them to live in Babylon. The audience for this prophetic poetry is the descendants a couple generations removed from those who were first taken. There is an explicit invitation to return to Judah within this poetry. Tull outlines some of the arguments the prophet makes for return in her commentary: 1) this is the land of Abraham and Sarah, the central founding figures of their faith; 2) their religious community, as symbolized by the nation of Israel, has a calling that was best lived out in their ancestral home; and 3) that they would be re-enacting the Exodus from Egypt. Basically, it matters that the people who were taken return home to those people and places that were left behind. It matters that the people rebuild.

     There may come a comfort in exile. If you never know when you may return, you may begin to figure out how to make a home in the place where you have been forced to go. You may even be able to craft a measure of comfort. You will certainly, within a few generations, have a measure of familiarity. Familiarity can be a gift, can't it? I can imagine that the grandchildren of the taken likely benefited from some stability, even as they knew they were exilees. It puts me in mind of people who were forced to leave New Orleans during Katrina. They were able to make a home in Houston or Atlanta or where ever they landed. Poor Appalachians who moved to Detroit and Cincinnati in the 1960's often shared a similar sentiment. They were able to make a new home and find stability in the wake of disruption. As Corinne Carvalho notes in her commentary on the text, some eventually no longer yearned for their first home. But, some did. And they taught their children and grandchildren about “back home.” Those grandchildren were the ones this chapter was written for.

     Here comes God who says, “yes, you've made a place in the place you never wanted to be in. But, now is a time to return.”  In her commentary on this text, Melinda Quivik points out that exile has a cost “devastation, anguish, loneliness, guilt, shame, terror.” The return to Judah would have a cost, too. It's no small thing to travel that distance to a place you have never been, to a people who were left with so little on which to survive, and a temple that lay in ruins. The poet prophets of Isaiah work to assure the people that God wants them to have an abundant, meaningful life. And, that life is found among those who were not taken and live among the ruins.

     Tull, in her commentary on this text, notes that text began as a reference to an historical event, the exile and return of Judean leadership and scholars, and became a potent symbol, especially for Christians, of a spiritual journey from alienation to home in God. She also argues that part of that spiritual journey is paying attention to concrete needs of people on that journey. It is not by accident that food and drink are key metaphors for God's abundance in this world. As Lee Yates says in a study of this text, “the kindom of God is a time and place when everyone has all they need, and everyone feels good about what they have.” What inspires people to hope is not only a spiritual connection with God, but also a reminder of the ways that restoration will help bring more steady access to all the things a body needs: food, drink, shelter, community.

     Many of us who read this text at this moment in time may not be reading it with an exilee's heart, though some might. I have a former professor who is transgender and left Tennessee after it became clear that the legislature was going to continue to work to deny him life-saving healthcare and guaranteed access to public bathrooms. He has found a good job pastoring in New York. He still speaks of this move as an exile. Even if you haven't had to make a move based on safety, you might still resonate with this reading. In her commentary on this text, Quivik invites us to consider “Who in your community, state, nation, and on earth lives in conditions of exile, devoid of what is stable and nourishing... who are those who need to be invited to what is life-giving?” Perhaps that's what Isaiah is inviting us, who are far away from Babylon, but still on a journey with God, to pay attention to. 
 
     Isaiah tells us that there is a future where people have what they need and are happy with it. That is what God hopes for us. How do we imagine, together, what that future where there is enough at every table may look like? I can't see the whole way forward yet, but I feel like I can see it in part. I saw a piece of God's kindom this week when I met a volunteer from Winthrop Hot Meal Program dropping off several days of food at the home of an isolated and impoverished senior. I saw a piece of God's kindom when our church, another church, and a mutual aid fund worked together to help a neighbor with rent. I know that the Board of Church and Community Concerns is already working on plans for supporting the Family Violence Project in the next few months. We are the ones being invited to give up some comfort and some time and some money to be a part of the blooming of the kindom of God. When we do, we are working alongside God, preparing for that feast we talked about just a few minutes ago. May our solidarity with those in the ruins bring us closer to the God we met at the table.

Resources consulted while writing this sermon:

Patricia Tull's notes on Isaiah 55 in the Imagine Together stewardship materials
Lee Yate's Sunday School curricula in the Imagine Together stewardship materials

Melinda Quivik: https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/vigil-of-easter/commentary-on-isaiah-551-11-2
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Corrine Carvalho: https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/narrative-lectionary/return-from-exile-2/commentary-on-isaiah-551-11​