Looking toward Light

Justice is far from us, 

 and righteousness does not reach us. 

We look for light, 

 but all is darkness; 

for brightness, 

but we walk in deep shadows. (Isaiah 5:9) 

December 21 was the shortest day of the year, but the darkest day is harder to identify. 

Christmas Eve and Day this year were dark: cold, grey weather, short days, far more solitary than usual. New Year’s Eve and Day were also grey: windy, spitting rain, most festivities cancelled. But the darkest days are likely ahead. Epiphany, January 6, will be a day of contention over election outcomes. January 20, the inauguration, will be a day of stress and division. The Presidential Inauguration Committee has announced plans to make Inauguration Eve a time of remembrance of those who have died of Covid-19, a sobering reminder of the loss and grief still unfolding around us. 

News of first vaccinations brightened the gloom, but that ray of light was quickly overcome by reports of confusion, lack of coordination and much slower progress than expected. 

We all will likely have our own darkest days ahead: days of loss, of loneliness, of discouragement, anger, doubt, confusion. Misinformation abounds. Division, even in this time of pandemic, seems to rule the day. 

Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, 

  who put darkness for light and light for darkness, 

who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter. (Isaiah 5:20). 

While recovering from sickness several weeks ago I found myself watching Dickins movies. I was reminded that there have always been seasons of darkness, illness, poverty, division. There have always been people who pride themselves on their certainty about what is best and right and good while sowing division and doing great harm. It’s easy to be deceived, to call evil good, to confuse bitter for sweet. Such was the case in the days of Isaiah, the days of Dickens, the days of Hitler.

I find myself wondering what Isaiah himself made of the prophecies he recorded. He lived during the reigns of both evil and righteous kings, during times of war with Assyria and Egypt, and also long seasons of peace. His wisdom and advice were accepted by some kings, ignored by others. Tradition suggests he was killed by King Manasseh, a notoriously evil, exploitative, bloodthirsty king.

Isaiah’s prophecies have been studied, celebrated, repeated, sung for over 2700 years now: 

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; 

on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned. . . . 

Every warrior’s boot used in battle and every garment rolled in blood 

will be destined for burning, will be fuel for the fire. 

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, 

 and the government will be on his shoulders. 

And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, 

Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 

Of the greatness of his government and peace 

 there will be no end. (Isaiah 9:2-7) 

What did those words mean to Isaiah himself? To those who transcribed the words and passed them on, generation after generation? What did they mean to the people of Israel, during the years of Christ’s birth and death? What do they mean to us, now, in this season of shadows and sadness?

It’s encouraging to me to see that Isaiah’s prophecy of light takes shape and clarity through the long years of his prophetic work. Scholars raise questions about the chronology of Isaiah’s writing. If it’s seen as history, it seems to leap around. But it can also be read as seeing time from a more eternal perspective: future is present, present is past, human time is held in the light of a more lasting story:

“Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
 my chosen one in whom I delight;
I will put my Spirit on him,
 and he will bring justice to the nations.
He will not shout or cry out,
 or raise his voice in the streets.
A bruised reed he will not break,
 and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.
In faithfulness he will bring forth justice;
he will not falter or be discouraged
till he establishes justice on earth.

 “I, the LORD, have called you in righteousness;
 I will take hold of your hand.
I will keep you and will make you
 to be a covenant for the people
 and a light for the Gentiles,
to open eyes that are blind,
 to free captives from prison
 and to release from the dungeon
those who sit in darkness. (Isaiah 42: 1-7)  

Reflecting on light and dark, past and present, hope and discouragement, I find myself wondering how we orient ourselves to the vision of light Isaiah offered. The final chapters of Isaiah invite us into the story and suggest priorities and perspective for the dark, lonely winter and more hopeful year ahead:

Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke, 

to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—

when you see the naked, to clothe them,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
 and your healing will quickly appear. (Isaiah 58:6- 8)

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
 because the LORD has anointed me
 to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
 to proclaim freedom for the captives
 and release from darkness for the prisoners. (Isaiah 61:1) 

Our challenge, always, is to apply those words wisely. 

How do we live as good news to the poor? How do we offer freedom to the oppressed? 

How will we loose chains of injustice? 

How will we share our food with the hungry? 

 I wish you light and joy in the year ahead. And for all of us, I pray we will live as light, walk in light, find our hope and rest in the Light Isaiah so fervently proclaimed.