Integrity [Epiphany 5A - Isaiah 58:1-9a]
The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson
Isaiah 58:1-9a
Integrity
It’s not that they weren’t trying. They were, really. They were fasting. And fasting is a big deal – just ask anyone
who has ever fasted; I’m sure they will be happy to tell you all about it. But it just wasn’t working. That was their real problem. They were trying; it’s just that it was
proving to be a real waste of time.
And, honestly, a terrible inconvenience. For example, they had punching to do. It was on the agenda. And the truth is: food deprivation just makes
it so incredibly difficult to strike with a wicked fist; you’re all weak and
shaky. Fasting time is not a good time
to scrap. But apparently they were really
committed to fisticuffs because Isaiah claims that they were still fighting
right through the fast. They could give
up the food every now and then, but they were not giving up the fight. All of this fasting was messing up their
routines, spoiling their devious fun.
The way they understood it was that the fasting, and the
worship, and the sacrifices, and all the other nice religious things they did:
they were part of a deal they had with God – whether God was aware of the deal
or not. You know the phrase by now; it
has been quite popular in recent months: quid pro quo. Something for something. They did the fasting thing, even though it
put them out, they didn’t really like it, and then God was supposed to bless
them with something good – like money or pomegranates or babies, or since this
section of Isaiah was written post-exile, maybe a shiny new city rather than
the rubble to which they had returned.
Something. But the system was
broken. They were fasting and God didn’t
even seem to notice. What a waste!
They found it all very upsetting. Apparently, as they understood it, God liked it
when they didn’t eat – for some reason – and so they fasted. It was for God. To make God happy. But God wasn’t even paying attention. And this lack of attention was really ruining
everything. God was supposed to notice
them, looking all haggard and skinny, break into a big smile, and rain down bountiful
blessings upon them. It was the reward
system they wanted in their lives; it was what they had come to expect.
But still: nothing.
And so they voiced their displeasure in their prayers: “Why do we fast,
but you do not see? Why humble
ourselves, but you do not notice?” Like,
what’s even the point of this? It wasn’t
working; it wasn’t fair. And so they
wanted God to make things right. And so,
being the victims they considered themselves to be, they demanded of God
justice.
The very thing of which, they believed, they were being
deprived. God owed them. Because of the fasting and the solid Temple
attendance and the donations. And God
was clearly not paying up. And so now
they just want from God an answer; for God to make things right. They want God to pay attention.
Unfortunately for them God does – both notice and answer. This is kind of like when you are in an argument
with your spouse and you say to them, “Just say something.” And so they do. But also they say a lot more than you
actually wanted them to say. This is
like that. Today’s passage from Isaiah
is like that.
If the opening shout and the accusations of sin and rebellion
are any indication, God does not exactly agree with the nation’s
complaint. Isaiah’s people clearly believed
that ritual obedience was sufficient.
They clearly were under the impression that worship was transactional,
that if they followed the rubrics God would be pleased. It seems that God is not.
At some point the whole thing became an exercise in
manipulation. It’s not that the nation
didn’t love God or honor God, it’s just that at some point the passion faded –
things were no longer as romantic as they were back in the wilderness days or
when they first moved into the Promised Land together. Instead the people decided to opt for a marriage
of convenience – one in which everyone just goes through the motions. They do some of the things they think God
likes; God gives them the things they like.
The problem was: God was interested in that kind of
relationship. God didn’t want them to be hungry for food; God wanted them to
hunger for righteousness. God didn’t
want their fasts; God wanted their hearts.
God wanted them to want to worship.
For God it was not transactional; it was deeply relational. Love me because you love me, not for the
benefits.
They had come to understand worship as some kind of “Get Out
of Jail Free” card. As if a fast earned
them a few extra assaults. As if a gift
on the altar meant never having to say, “I’m sorry.” John Calvin once wrote about this text, and
about life beyond this text, “Not only do many people fast in order to atone
for their cheating and robberies, and plunder more freely, but even that,
during the time of the fast, they may have greater leisure for examining their
accounts, perusing documents, and calculating usury, and contriving methods by
which they may lay hold of the property of their debtors.”[1] The accusation leveled against this nation of
pious people by God is: “You serve your own interest on your fast day, and
oppress all your workers. You fast only
to quarrel and to fight and to strike with the fist…. Will you call this a
fast, a day acceptable to the Lord?” God
was seeing a disconnect.
This past Wednesday in our Parish Bible Study, we studied
Psalm 15. The psalm is an entrance
liturgy. It begins with a question: O
Lord, who may abide in your tabernacle?
That question is then answered. The
answer is a list of the moral and ethical qualities expected of the one who
wishes to enter into the place of worship, into the presence of God. Interestingly, the list is not unlike the one
we find in our Old Testament reading this morning.
The difference is the question. In the psalm the one who stands at the door
of the Temple inquires of God’s heart and hopes, seeks to understand God, asks
God to make a wish list: “What do you want?
What would make you happy?” In
Isaiah, the people assume they know what God desires of them. They never bother to ask. And so they don’t really know. And then they are surprised by God’s response;
they are surprised they missed the mark.
They fasted and God never paid attention, never rewarded
them. And that made them mad because
fasting was supposed to work. And it
didn’t. And so they demanded of God
justice – repayment for their effort and their time and their money. Ironically, what God wanted from them all
along was the same thing: justice. God
just wanted them to show justice to others, to love the people God loves.
It’s not that God doesn’t appreciate fasting. Jesus fasted plenty in the Gospels, and he
prayed, and he attended synagogue. Our worship
is important. Religious ritual is
important. But it is not the only thing
that matters. The way in which we live
our life is also important. The prophet Isaiah would
remind us that fasting without justice is just hunger.
God is calling us to be people of integrity. God is calling us to be captivated by a love
that connects us intimately to the heart of God and to this world of people who
have captured God’s heart. God is
calling us to proclaim the Good News by word and by example. God is calling us to be a people of a holy
rhythm. Our lives prepare us for
worship; our worship prepares us for life.
The light of God enkindled within us is not put out by the
breeze that lives beyond our church doors.
Our worship fills this holy space but it is not contained by this
beautiful building. Our worship is our
lives. And God wants both.
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