Isaiah 21:1-17: Darkest before the dawn?

Today we have a couple of oracles. Poetic, metaphorical, allusive and therefore not easy to fully understand.

Again, it's all to do with the political "churn" of rising and falling kingdoms, with that ever-pervading sense that God is behind and beyond all the machinations, grimly watching them fail, all of them.

There is a watchman. Maybe Isaiah is the watchman, maybe he isn't. But he's scared by what he sees. He's not scared by the mighty army coming towards him, he's scared by what is going to happen to them. This war machine is going to be taken apart, brutally, efficiently, ruthlessly.

Watchmen long for the morning. But it is still night, and in the reign of darkness, destruction is king.

Isaiah 19:1-20:6: Egypt, the first enslaver

Isaiah's eyes are still sweeping around his map of the world, and now he lights on Egypt.

Egypt was, of course, the ancient enemy, the enslaver of Israel. So as he begins with prophecies of doom against them, his hearers would have cheered.

But now, Egypt is beginning to have a more complex identity in the hearts and minds of the policy makers. In the light of the threat from Assyria, they are beginning to think of Egypt as an ally. Perhaps its strength can protect them from the might of the new kid on the block.

Egypt apparently thought so too - they engaged in a lot of meddling in the Palestinian states north of their territory, stirring them up against Assyria. From Egypt's point of view, Israel, Philistia, Aram and the rest were buffer states, and if they fell, the Assyrian threat would be on their doorstep.

Their friendly overtures to Israel and Judah were self serving - a bit like Russia cosying up to President Trump, while at the same time using fake news to destabilise and disorientate the people Allegedly.

Into to all this ferment Isaiah speaks in three ways. First, he has a prophecy of doom and destruction for Egypt, centred on the drying up of the Nile. The Nile is everything to Egypt, and if it's waters stopped flowing, Egypt's wealth and power would be cut off.

Second, he speaks about healing, with specific but unfulfilled (yet) prophecies about worship of Yahweh breaking out in Egypt, of blessings not curses emanating from that land.

And then third, he brings his attention back to the events of the present, and acts out a prophecy, as many of the other prophets do. He went around in a state of undress, saying this is what will happen to Egypt. The Assyrian king sent one of his generals to Ashdod, where there had been a rebellion. This general, who was called the Tartan, crushed the rebellion and sent captives stripped and barefoot back to Assyria.

See? said Isaiah. This has come true. Now trust me on the rest.

Isaiah 17:1-18:7: Political security? Desolation, more like.

Isaiah returns to the fate of Ephraim, or Jacob, or Israel: the northern kingdom.

In the face of the Assyrian threat, the natural thing to do would be to band together with another small nation. There is strength in numbers.

What about Damascus? They're in the same boat as us. Surely the Arameans will come to our aid!

But Isaiah looks, and sees desolation in Damascus. Isaiah looks, and all across the countryside it looks as if the harvest has come early. All the growing crops have been cut down. Nothing to be seen but the leftovers that the poor were allowed to glean. Proud fortifications taken over by weeds.  It had happened before - when Israel took the land from the nations that had lived there before - their fortresses were left in ruins.

Isaiah looks, and sees it happening again. A nation of tall, smooth-skinned strangers are going to sweep over the land and ravage it.

And yet, and yet ... chapter 18 ends with an unlikely picture: these tall, smooth-skinned strangers are bringing tributes to the Lord! Even the Assyrians will bow the knee to Yahweh, the Holy One of Israel.

Isaiah 15:1-16:14: Pride goes before a fall

A long section to read today - Isaiah is still scanning the map of the region, and foreseeing trouble for Moab, another old enemy.

Isaiah describes the devastation of Moab. The worrying thing is that Moab is to the south of Israel, on the eastern side of the Dead Sea opposite Judah. If Assyria have got to Moab, they will probably have gone through Israel, and be knocking on the door of Judah.

Isiah describes weeping, mourning, distress and despair. The panicky leaders of Moab consider asking Jerusalem for help, and Isaiah imagines eavesdropping on their cabinet meeting.

He offers hope - if Moab could deal with its pride, it might discover that God's promises to Israel, of a king from David's line, might even extend to protect them. If they could shelter under David's throne, perhaps they would be safe. But they would rather trust in their own strength, and so they will fall.

Here's the lesson for us all - God's promises of protection can only hold good if we dispense with our pride.

Isaiah 14:1-32: surveying the sweep of world history

I have a mental picture of a royal court, a large table, spread with maps, the king and his counsellors poring over these very valuable documents, and Isaiah standing quietly in the corner, waiting for instructions; "will someone fetch me the map of Persia?"

I don't know if this is remotely likely to have ever happened. It's probably more likely that Isaiah was part of the inner circle of the Temple, more allied with the priesthood than the monarchy, but sometimes  can detect in his thinking that birds eye view of events that ordinary people probably never had.

Nowadays we can all watch the news and see a picture of the globe zooming in to a particular country, city, district, street, house, to allow us to understand where in the world this newsworthy event is taking place. In Isiah's day, many people would never travel beyond their daily horizon more than once a year.

In chapter 14, we have the long view. We are watching from the satellite, standing over the maps in the throne room, looking into the future. Assyria is the big threat right now, but Isaiah is looking beyond them for most of the chapter. There are signs that there is a new empire rising - Babylon - and one day it may eclipse Assyria. But Isaiah is seeing beyond even that day, and describing the mocking taunts that will accompany Babylon's fall.

Babylon, that hasn't finished rising as of yet, will inevitably fall. That thought brings comfort to the counsellors: never mind today's threat, tomorrow's threat will pass as well. At the end of the chapter, the fall of Assyria is almost mentioned as an afterthought, and as the picture zooms back in to the present, we realise that we are a turning point for Judah - Ahaz the king has died, and his son Hezekiah is untried as yet. The Philistines are jubilant - they think they've seen off an old foe - but this long view reminds Isaiah and us that it takes more than the death of a king to interrupt God's plans.

Isaiah 13:1-22: Who rules the world - Babylon?

We seem to be starting a new section here - we get a little intro: "A prophecy against Babylon that Isaiah son of Amoz saw."

Babylon wasn't really on the radar at this time - Assyria was the big threat. But babylon would sweep away Assyria. Later, the Medes are mentioned. The time will come when they sweep away the Babylonians. Empires rise and empires fall.

What Isaiah is inviting us to consider here is that God is behind this chaotic surging of  forces of political power. Like a conductor drawing forth crashing cadences from the orchestra with sweeps of his baton, God is conducting these superpowers as they boil up out of their territories and inundate everything in their path, only to be devoured themselves by the next.

Language of despair and terror makes us realise how it will feel to be on the ground, in the path of these oncoming storms. But behind it, we can see the arm of God. Yahweh is really in charge.

Isaiah 12:1-6: Thank you for saving me!

Isaiah allow himself a moment of grateful praise that he has been saved by God's mercy, and around him, he imagines a remnant of God's people similarly singing God's praise.

In his vision, that represented his call to be a prophet, Isaiah was cleansed from his sin by a coal taken from the altar. My commentaries tell me that when chapter 12 opens "in that day you will say..." it is you singular. One person is praising God for his salvation.

Isaiah himself? Maybe.

But he doesn't remain alone for long. The next time the phrase comes, in verse 4: "in that day you will say..." it is plural. Now it's Isaiah and friends. Now it's the righteous remnant, singing their praise to God.

Isaiah 11:1-16: Glory is coming!

Suddenly Isaiah bursts into a paean of poetry more wonderful than anything we have read so far. These words are famous, and as I read them is sequence with the rest of the book, I can see why. They are sublime. This is a purple passage.

Also - it's good news, after we've endured so much bad. The pattern that Isaiah set out when he was speaking to Judah in the earlier chapters is now repeated to its conclusion for the northern kingdom: challenge, judgement, remnant and blessings.

And what blessings! Perfect peace, even amongst fierce animals. A new shoot out of a stump that seemed dead - a new king born of the kingly line which goes back to David's father Jesse. This king will rule with justice and gentleness, and all God's scattered people will be gloriously gathered together. They will forget their feuds, they will conquer their enemies, and in comparison with this, the great blessing of the Exodus will pale into insignificance.

God's ways will prevail, and it will be marvellous to behold.

I can't help but be swept along by the power of the words, I almost forget the terrible state that remnant Israel and Judah are in. Anything seems possible, when God's mighty hand is on the move. This is the power of Isaiah's poetic prophecy: it inspires faith.

Isaiah 10:5-34: Assyria, my axe, is laid against the tree

Isaiah waxes poetical as he describes the terrible might of Assyria. This mighty empire is whistled up by God himself, and sent against Samaria and Jerusalem. Isaiah piles up extravagant descriptions of ho powerful and mighty Assyria is, and then suddenly turns the tables.

Assyria has become too proud. He is just a axe in God's hands. He hasn't cut down trees by himself, he must be swung by an even mightier arm. And because he's started boasting, he will be thrown away, a tool no longer to his owner's taste.

Just in time for the remnant of Jerusalem. Stricken but not destroyed, when Assyria is cut down to size, God's people will survive. Just.

Isaiah 9:8-10:4: What's happening up North?

A quick history lesson - at this stage, there are two kingdoms in Israel. One (confusingly) is still called Israel, the other is Judah. Even more confusingly, Israel is sometimes called Jacob, Ephraim or Samaria: Judah is sometimes called Jerusalem or Zion.

They split after the death of King Solomon, and although the northern kingdom was far bigger, it lasted a shorter time. We're about to see it fall, as the mighty Assyrian Empire draws near. Isaiah lived in the southern kingdom, which wasn't much more than the capital city Jerusalem and its immediate neighbourhood (hence it's sometimes just referred to as Jerusalem, or Zion) but he still takes an interest in what's happening up North.

And we're going to see the same pattern that he's outlined for us in Judah: he's going to challenge them (are you going to obey God, or carry on ignoring him?); he's going to warn them of the coming judgement because of their rejection of God; but despite the judgement there will be a small remnant left; and that remnant can expect some amazing blessings, so they can continue to hope.

Isaiah talks about the disaster approaching from enemy powers - Assyria, Aram and Philistia. He talks about internal corruption, those who should be examples to society are sick and degenerate. He talks about blatant misrule, with the poor downtrodden, and widows and orphans the victims of theft. And each section ends with a chilling refrain: "His anger is not turned away, his hand is still upraised."

God's fury continues unabated. Watch out, northerners - you're dining in last chance saloon.

Isaiah 9:1-7: A ray of hope

Although Isaiah has largely been giving his people bad news, there is a glimmer of light. The food may have overwhelmed them, but their heads are still above the water.

There is an important concept in Isaiah, of the Remnant. Once all the evil, faithless people have been flooded out, burned by fire, killed by the sword or swallowed by darkness, there will be a few left whose goodness and righteousness will shine out. The fewer there are, the brighter their light will shine. Take this to the nth degree, and you have just one individual left, who shines as brightly as God himself.

We met this idea for the first time today - one individual, who becomes the embodiment of all that Israel should be.

The poetic image Isaiah gives us in this passage is one of darkness, swallowing the land, from the north, moving south. Like a weather forecaster on a really bad day, he is describing a wave of invasion sweeping down across the country, but then promising that in the north where the darkness first hit, there the light will begin to shine again. Of course, we Christians get excited about this, because Jesus grew up in the north, in Galilee, and we love to see foreshadowing of Jesus in Isaiah's words.

But Isaiah's first hearers would have no inkling of this, and for them the weather forecaster is simply saying, there will be a spot of brightness in the darkest part of the map, and as we zoom in on it, you won't believe how brightly it shines.

There will be a son born to us, princely rule will be his. He will be a wonder amongst counsellors, supernatural in wisdom, God himself coming in person, in victorious power and fatherly care.

The prophecy of Isaiah has a very difficult mission. God gave this book  the task of conjuring hope out of complete and utter despair. The crisis hasn't hit yet, the despair is still in the future, but here is a first taste of the way Isaiah's words will rekindle hope.

Isaiah 8:9-22: Keep calm and carry on

Although there is terrible trouble ahead, Isaiah foresees that there will be at least a few people who survive it. He's got them in mind in these words. He doesn't want them believing the conspiracy theories, getting panicked by wild talk, he wants them to stay secure in God.

So he reminds his hearers that just as God has got his strong hand on him personally, just as he and his family have become living signs to God's love, so God will be available like a strong tower, like a rock or a fortress. Some people will dash themselves against this rock, and be smashed, like a ship out of control in a stormy sea. They've allowed themselves to be blown this way and that by contradictory and untrustworthy voices, like asking the dead for their opinion of the living (what do they know about it?), like believing conspiracy theories.

Don't fill yourselves with random fears, he says. Fear God, and you need not fear anything else.

Isaiah 7:18-8:8: Bad decision, Ahaz!

Yesterday, we heard God's message to the young king - "trust me."

Today, we read of the consequences of what his majesty actually did.

Ahaz realised that Aram and Israel had come together because of their fear of Assyria, so he tried to outwit them by asking Assyria to intervene on his behalf. He actually invited them in!

Isaiah puts it like this: "you have rejected the gently flowing waters of Shiloah," (this was Jerusalem's water supply - see yesterday) and therefore "the mighty floodwaters of the Euphrates" are sweeping in, and you'll be up to your neck in it.

The Euphrates river, of course, flows through Assyria.

Mess with these powers at your peril, God is saying.

There's also another prophetic baby. Perhaps both of them are Isaiah's children. This second one is saddled with an embarrassing name. Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz means something like "swift to the plunder, swift to the spoil," which is exactly what the Assyrians were. I wonder what the lad was called by his playmates?

Hosea called his children by prophetic names as well. Makes me think my children didn't have it so bad after all. Both of them have met friends at uni who were also vicarage children, and shared stories of the strange life they led. There's even a hashtag: #vicaragelife

I think I'd still rather be them than Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz

Isaiah 7:1-17: A message for Ahaz

Uzziah died. A strong king, although unfaithful to God and stricken with leprosy. His death brought Ahaz to the throne, and God's call to Isaiah in the same year.

We are now a little further on - a couple of years into Ahaz's reign, and he is facing his first big crisis. The Northern kingdom has joined forces with Aram to attack Judah. Israel and Aram were old enemies, now forced to be friends in the light of a bigger aggressive force - the empire of Assyria. The two kings know they can't defeat Assyria, but maybe they can take Judah down, and so strengthen their hand.

We can imagine the anxious arguments and discussion in the royal court in Jerusalem: What's going on? Why are they doing it? What are their chances? How can we defend Jerusalem?

Interestingly, God arranges a meeting between his prophet and his king, not in the city, not in the royal palace, but outside at their point of weakness. At this stage in Jerusalem's history, the city's water supply is brought in on an aqueduct from outside the city walls. Later on, it was put into a tunnel, so that enemies couldn't cut the water off. But as of now, Ahaz knows, if it comes to a siege of Jerusalem, this aqueduct is their weak spot.

So Isaiah has a message from God: Keep Calm and Carry On.

He seems to have forgotten the name of Israel's king - you know, what's his name? Remaliah's lad. Saying it like this diminishes him. If you can't even remember his name, you can't be too worried about him.

The essence of God's messages is unexpectedly political: don't worry about Israel and Aram - they're nearly burnt out. Pretty soon Assyria's going to crush them like a twig. Believe me! I'll prove it to you. Ask me for a sign.

Ahaz draws himself up and says, "No! I will not ask my God for a sign."

"Don't be an idiot," replies God. "I'll give you a sign anyway. Imagine a young woman giving birth to a son, calls him Immanuel. (which of course means 'God with us.') Before that boy has finished with his mother's milk, those enemies of yours will be as nothing.

Faith isn't a leap into the dark. It's a leap into the light.

Isaiah 6:9-13: God's message for Isaiah

"They won't listen, but tell them anyway."

That's quite often what God seems to say to the prophets. The people are blind and deaf, but I still want you to hold up signs in front of their eyes and shout my message into their ears.

There's a basic paradox going on here - we can't see what God sees. Isaiah was deafened by the din of heaven and blinded by the smoke of incense. He couldn't even see God seated on the throne, yet God can see clearly every little habit-forming choice that every little human being is making every little moment of their little lives.

God knows exactly what they're doing to themselves. They're heading for ruin and desolation, and they don't know and don't care.

They're in a pleasure boat, heading for a waterfall. And Isaiah's just been given the job of ringing the alarm bells.

Isaiah 6:1-8: Isaiah's Call

Woh! Wait a minute. We turn the page to chapter 6, and suddenly we need to see what's come before in a new light. Why? Because now we get the beginning of the story - Isaiah describes his call to prophecy. Which makes what's gone before ... what? A prologue?

The themes we have encountered so far - the people's unfaithfulness, their forgetfulness of God, their preoccupation with pleasure and wealth instead of righteousness, and God's simmering anger about it all, begin to make more sense when we realise belatedly what sort of person Isaiah was.

He's an insider - a member of the royal court, casually dropping the names of kings as if he saw them every day. He is a religious man - maybe a priest or a Levite - someone very familiar with the Temple. Not a person who just came up once a year for the festival, but a regular. The sort of person who would notice when the building needs a clean.

And one day, perhaps when he was going about his daily duties (maybe even with a broom in hand) his view of the Temple shimmers and changes, and the peace of the half empty building is replaced by a clanging, roaring aural onslaught of angelic worship: the sound is turned up to 11 and the doorposts shook.

A dazzling throne has replaced what was normally in his field of view, and clouds of incense obscure the sight of the Majesty seated upon it. Whirling overhead are strange six-winged creatures booming out their praise to God.

Isaiah crumples to his knees. He feels ruined, dirty, unworthy to witness this spectacle. Then a burning coal singes one of the most delicate parts of his body, and a mighty seraph tells him that his sin has been burnt away.

Now he can understand an urgent question that is being asked in heaven: "Who is there who will go for me? Who can I send?"

Here I am Lord.

Send me.

Isaiah 5:8-30: Judah's guilt & judgement

Capability Brown. A gardener on the epic scale. Could have been useful to some of the rich people of Judah, who found their way round the laws that were meant to ensure that every family had the same amount of land - enough to farm and live on. They'd been busy adding house to house,and field to field, until they lived in splendid isolation in the middle of a large estate.

Now they incur God's wrath, because, as Isiah knows, he has noticed. The rich have blinded themselves to other people's poverty, their consciences are untroubled. But God sees, and Isaiah has a vision of a day when their manicured lawns will be turned over to wild grazing, their big houses empty and open to the elements.

God will not be fooled forever.

Isaiah 5:1-7: The Lord's Vineyard

Isaiah's picture of a vineyard is famous. It's another vivid, memorable, unavoidable image of Israel in all their failings ("This is what you are, compared to what you should be.") It's an image taken up by others,- Jesus for instance - so much so that he only had to say "A man planted a vineyard ..." and everybody immediately knew what he was going to talk about.

Everything was right about this vineyard. It had the perfect location, carefully prepared soil, the best vines chosen to be planted, a watchtower, a winepress, a protecting wall.

So God says to the people, "What more could I have done for you?" I gave you the best of everything. And yet, when I came to taste your fruit, it was disgusting!

Can you imagine what it looks like? Healthy plants, well cared for, abundant fruit hanging temptingly from every branch. But when you taste a grape, you gag and spit, because it is so sour.

God turns away in disgust from his people. He stops caring for them. Weeds take over, the wall is broken down. Even the rain stays away.

God's people had it all. And they gave nothing back. God came looking for justice, and saw bloodshed. He listened for righteousness, and heard a shriek of distress.

I'm taking a break now, for holiday purposes. See you in August.

Isaiah 4:2-6: The New Jerusalem

The rest of chapter 4 is a dramatic flip. After exposing the flaws of present day Jerusalem to dramatic, forensic, poetic scrutiny, Isaiah switches the focus abruptly to the future.

All that filth is going to be washed away. God isn't finished with Jerusalem. We're back to the vision of what the perfect Jerusalem could be: holy, beautiful, glorious.

Who's this branch? We'd better get used to this idea, it's going to crop up a lot. Let's pretend we don't know what it means for a minute. Perhaps you don't know - fine then!!

Picture an old, gnarly, broken-down tree.

Now imagine a new, young branch, growing out from it, near the root. New life and energy, bursting out from something that seemed nearly dead. Young, fresh, full of sap and vigour, encapsulating all the qualities that the old tree had in its far-off youth.

This righteous branch, this shoot from the stump, is a sign of new hope when all around looked tired and old and as good as dead.

The dream of what Israel could be - a chosen race so magnetically attractive that people would stream to the hill of Zion to meet the living God - this dream seems lost, and Isaiah is the first to tell us so.

But he also tells us that the there's life in the old tree yet. That God hasn't given up on his plans for Judah and Jerusalem.

One day, God's presence will be back. The pillar of cloud by day and fire by night that led them through the wilderness will again hover over Jerusalem, his love will overshadow them like a bridal canopy.

Isaiah 3:16-4:1: Warning to Jerusalem

The first Bible I bought for myself was a Good News Bible. Annie Valloton's line drawings made a great impact on me - illustrating and helping me remember the message of the text. I vividly recall the pictures she drew for Isaiah 3: a beautifully dressed woman, haughtily stepping along, like a model on a catwalk. Then, the same woman in the same pose, her nose in the air, but stripped naked of her finery.

Isaiah uses his word skills to achieve the same effect, listing every piece of adornment the proud woman is wearing, and stripping them all away.

Shame, shame, shame.

Yesterday, people were grabbing hold of a man with a cloak and saying "Be our leader!" Today, women are grabbing hold of any available man and saying "Marry me! Give me status!"

One of Isaiah's favourite phrases is "Daughter of Zion." He frequently pictures the nation as a woman, he describes her beauty and her pain, he dwells on her love and loss. The Daughter of Jerusalem is losing her beauty.

Isaiah 3:1-15: Judgement against Judah

Now it's getting personal.

Isaiah warns Judah that everything they rely on is going to be stripped away. Supply and support will be removed. Prop and pillar taken away. I love the poetry of Isaiah - my commentary tells me that those two words in Hebrew are the masculine and feminine forms of the same word. All aspects of what makes the nation strong are under threat.

In a beautifully vivid image, anyone who has even a cloak left to wear will be told, "You look like a leader - tell us what to do!" People are desperate, afraid, directionless, lost. Ruled by children. Lord of the Flies.

And then at the end of the passage, the scene shifts to the courtroom. God has taken the stand.He points his finger. He accuses. "YOU!"

You have ruined my vineyard. What do you mean by it? Crushing my people, and grinding the faces of the poor?

The name Grenfell Tower springs to mind - the shameful sight of that blackened wreck stands like an accusing finger, pointing out the sins of our society.

Isaiah 2:5-22: Judgement on the actual Jerusalem

So from the sublime, to the ridiculous. From the ideal to reality.

Isaiah says the land is full. Full of silver, gold, horses ... and idols. They may look like they're enjoying God's blessing, but actually they are full up with stuff that is dragging their attention away from God. All their wealth, their power, and their objects of worship are saying "Look at me! Look at me!"  and they have shifted their gaze from God.

But the day will come when God will cast down their proud looks. God will have his day, and it will be a day opposed to everything that thinks it is high and mighty. Great trees, mountains, towers, mighty fortified walls, you name it.

Isaiah calls them no-gods. All the things that people put their trust in. And there's plenty of them around today, everywhere you look.

Where's your trust? Where's mine?

Is it where it should be? Is it where it really matters?

Have a good weekend, I'll be back on Monday.

Isaiah 2:1-4: The ideal Jerusalem

Aha! The first prophecy! The first actual "this is firm to happen one day" thing that prophets are meant to do.

This was my first thought.

But I might be naive thinking like that. Because what Isaiah gives us is not so much a prediction of what one day will happen, as a description of what an ideal situation would be. He introduces it by saying that this is a vision that Isaiah saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem. I think that might be significant. A Vision need not be a prediction. Vision is something, certainly in modern parlance, that we try to live up to.

Isaiah sees Mount Zion as a magnet, attracting people from all over the world to it's Beacon of truth and light. Here are people who are living life the way it is meant to be lived and it is intensely attractive. Isaiah sees Yahweh holding court in Zion. He is "judging", that is setting things right, between peoples.

People want to walk in this way - they can see how good it is.

This is why I think this is a picture that is idealised rather than something that will come about at some point in the future. When I read this I think to myself "it's not going to happen is it?" Oh it would be lovely if it did, but let's be real - it's never going to happen like that. And why not? Because this vision leaves about humanity's self centeredness. What's in it for me? Why should the rich and powerful empires round about suddenly follow the ways of an insignificant tribe? God may speak from Mount Zion, but who's listening? His light may shine forth, but who's looking?

Isaiah 1:27-31: Tensions between threat and hope resolved

Picture a tree, a great and mighty tree. Offering shade from the sun and shelter from the rain. It's stood for generations, and surely will stand for years to come.

But let our x-ray eyes look underground, into the soil beneath, and see what's happening to its roots. They are finding no water. The source of life that sustains the tree has dried up.

The tree is as tall as ever, its branches as strong. But this year, this spring, it will put forth no new leaves. And when a fire comes, it will burn, because it has dried up.

Isaiah finishes his first chapter with a contrast. This is one picture - of something that looks healthy on the surface but is dying underneath. The other picture is of health restored, of forgiveness and peace. Which is it going to be?

Isaiah 1:21-26: The Social Situation

The next section we are going to look at is nicely delineated by a "bookend" repeated phrase: faithful city. The first time Isaiah says it, it's ironic: "faithful city? NOT!" The second time it's genuine.

The little phrase that jumped out at me in reading this was from verse 26. Variously translated as "I will turn my hand against you" or "I will raise my fist against you." It actually refers to a a backhanded swipe, which in Middle Eastern culture has long been a calculated insult. It's got the sense of hitting a man while he's down. So we've heard about what a poor state Judah is in - shorn of the northern 10 tribes, still complacent about their worship - it's like their silver has been turned to dross and their wine has been watered down.

But God's backhand doesn't knock them out, it actually reverses the damage."I will purge away your dross, I will restore your leaders as in days of old."

What a mighty God Yahweh is! To reverse centuries of decay and complacency with just a wave of his hand! How little the people deserve it. This is the first intimation of what I expect to be a powerful theme throughout Isaiah's writings - God is so much bigger than the people think.

So there's a promise here - trust me, your faithful God, and I will truly make you into a faithful city.

Isaiah 1:10-20: The religious situation

So, yesterday Isaiah surveyed the state of the nation. Today he turns his attention to the state of their worship. It looks sumptuous, but it is so totally missing the point.

He imagines what God would say, having been in receipt of a pretty hefty number of animal sacrifices over the years.

Enough already! I don't want any more dead bulls! I've got enough blinking dead bulls to last me from here to eternity. I never wanted them anyway. It wasn't the animals I wanted, it was you - it was your hearts. And what have you done? You've nearly bankrupted yourselves piling up all these sacrifices because you thought it would let you off having to have a genuine relationship with me. 

You thought that if you gave me a sacrifice every now and then you could do what you pleased the rest of the time. I'm sick of your sacrifices and your festivals and your bogus prayers. You think I can't see the blood on your hands?

Start caring for the oppressed, the orphan and the widow. Then I'll be impressed. Stop doing evil, learn to do good. Then I'll listen.

Is it shocking, hearing God basically telling people to stop worshipping him? It's certainly not what we expect.

I thought you wanted all this, God? We worship God in all sorts of different ways, but whether it's with sacrifices or ritual, or music or silence or anything else - it makes no difference if our heart isn't in it.

God would rather listen to out of tune singing from a tone deaf 90 year old with laryngitis, than the best worship band singing the edgiest song that's just been written, with smoke machines, lights and sound systems, or the best robed choir on the planet ... so long as the 90 year old put his heart into it. After all, God's got more angel choirs than he could possibly want, he's got things on his playlist you couldn't possibly imagine. Our worship can't compete with that. But we think if we make it sound nice enough, or make it cost enough, then that will do.

Come on, says God, let's sit down and talk about this. I can make you clean. It doesn't matter how dirty you are. Don't cover it up with those fancy robes, come and let me wash you. I'll show you the real meaning of the words "Power Shower."

Isaiah 1:1-9: The National Situation

Let's begin.

The first word (two words in English)  -"The Vision" - is significant. Isaiah son of Amoz is telling us what he saw. It isn't what he thought or imagined, it isn't his opinion, he reaches for objectivity right from the start. Through the reigns of four kings, he has seen things that aren't pretty, adn he wants to tell us about them.

So what has he seen? He's seen a nation that is sick. Uzziah was famously ill - stricken by leprosy for disobeying God by forcing his way into the sanctuary in the Temple, and daring to offer incense to God, which was the priest's role. Because of his leprosy he loved alone, and his son Jotham ran the day to day business of the kingdom.

A sick king, and a sick nation. Riddled with sores and bruises, but not doing anything to heal itself. No bandages, no medicines. Wounds gaping open for all to see. Little Judah is the last part of once mighty Israel left standing, after the fall of the northern kingdom. Isaiah compares them to a little patch of unharvested crops, once the rest of the field has been cut down. Fearfully vulnerable.

And yet not seeming to care.

Who exactly was Isaiah?

As I get ready to read through Isaiah in 6 months, this question needs to be asked. Or perhaps our would be: Who exactlyactly were the Isaiahs? Because this book is more complicated than we might think.

One of the problems we face in answering questions like this is that the Bible isn't like a modern book that has publisher's blurb. You don't get a handy little paragraph on the back cover saying something like "Isaiah lives in Jerusalem with his wife, two sons and a daughter. When he is not busy working in the Temple or writing his prophecies, he enjoys stamp collecting, drinking real ale and paragliding. But not necessarily at the same time."

No, we get none of that. All we can do is guess, from the clues in the words themselves. Because there is nothing else to go on.

So it seems clear that Isaiah was a Temple insider. A priest maybe, or a Levite. Or someone associated with the royal court, perhaps a historian or official recorder. Maybe he wrote some of the official history that we have in the books of Samuel and Kings. There are sections of his book that are identical to the historical passages, either included as direct quotes or reportage, or because Isaiah was actually drafting the official accounts.

And then something really weird happens. Between chapter 39 and 40, there is a time slip. Decades seem to have gone by, and suddenly we are talking about a very different situation. No longer are the Israelites at home in Jerusalem, suddenly the battles are over, their enemies have won and they are in exile.

If this is the same prophet speaking, then either he is very very old, or else he wrote a whole load of prophecies that had absolutely nothing to do with the times he lived in, and wouldn't have made much sense to him, but were just right for the future.

Or perhaps he was a time traveller.

Or - perhaps there were two of him. Or even three. Because there is another time slip later in the book, less well defined.

We'll think about these questions more when we get to the passages in question.

Just don't expect it to be a simple journey. There will be more questions than answers. But that's OK. Questions are good. They open us out to new possibilities. Answers are less good - they close down possibilities, and make us live in a world of black and white, right and wrong.

Back to the Bible

Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Ashkelon...

I want to whisper it quietly because I'm not sure if it will last, but I'm going to try to return to a daily Bible reading and to blog about it.

 I've been meaning to read Isaiah day by day, and I think if I do it now then I'll be finishing at around Christmas time. Isaiah is a wonderful book to read at Christmas, with the rich and fulfilling promises of a Messiah and new hope in the midst of a people's suffering and shame.

So journey with me if you'd like to. We will be entering a confused and uncertain part of Israel's history, a time when their national identity was under threat like never before: when powerful forces conspired against them.

What sort of deal could they strike with the powerful Empires around them?Could they rely on any sort of special relationship to give them security? What did it mean to believe in a God who had lead them to victory in the past, when victories were no longer coming?

Topical? Of course. The links between the Bible and the present day are seldom hard to find.

Sat down at my computer this afternoon and this splurged out.

Palm Sunday

Donkeys, palm leaves, coats on the ground, crowds of supporters and detractors, big city, small people, peasant revolution, truth versus power, love against profit, immoveable object meets irresistible force, empires clash, and in the middle of it all a man ambles into a city on a humble beast of burden and looks at all he sees and has tears in his eyes because no one truly recognises who he is but he knows them all intimately and understands their deepest needs and in less than a week will carry every single one of their burdens individually on his back and drop them all into the deepest darkest pit and fall exhausted on top of them himself with sweat and bruises and blood only to be buried alive for three dark days.

And we will celebrate this by bleating “Hosanna” in embarrassed voices outside our church, because we’re Anglican and British and really don’t want to give offence.

The earth will shiver and convulse and finally crack and give up its dead in a blaze of morning glory and the Broken One will stride out with a smile like the sun and will scatter petals of surprised delight on his mourning friends whose eyes will be on stalks at the impossible things they are seeing and whose sobs will turn to gulps of laughter and his opponents who thought he was a danger and wanted to keep the peace by killing him will be shocked to the core and confounded by the tidal wave of new belief and hope in uneducated disciples telling this story to amazed ears everywhere.

And we will have an easter egg hunt for the children and try not to mention the embarrassing argument about the National Trust, because we really do want to be welcoming to people of all faiths and none. Yes we do – no irony intended.

And God will smile at the Anglicans doing their best, and turn his attention back to the Sarin fumes in Syria and the dust settling on the Columbian mudslides and the coughing outrage of the Panamanian parliamentarian rebels and the poker-faced machinations of Putin and Trump.

And in forty days, will he pour out again great waves of his transforming spirit, to give damp Anglicans courage and hopeless Syrians fresh air to breathe and victims of tragedy and injustice a chance to hope and will he distract powerful men (always men!) from their concentration on the games they play in secret against each other and put into their hearts the wild longing to do things a different way?

Will he?

Will anyone ask him to?

Will you pray with me, that Jesus will not come into Jerusalem this Palm Sunday without you and me in his wake, to march with him in his cause, to watch with him in his agony, to weep together at the price he paid, to laugh, impossibly, that this story was not ending but only beginning and then be part of the spreading wave that circles and re-circles the world?

This year, I want to be swept off my feet by the story of Easter, swirled along by a wave that transports me to somewhere new, taken beyond myself by a Power that I cannot comprehend but which comprehends and apprehends me.

Please?

Trying to preach on Mothering Sunday, after a terrorist attack

This week our country has been rocked by the actions of Khalid Masood, driving at speed down the pavement over Westminster bridge, killing and injuring dozens, running into the grounds of the Palace of Westminster, before being confronted by the unarmed PC Keith Palmer, whom he killed with a knife before being shot himself.

Two every day things, a car and a knife, have been used to make widows and orphans this week.

But for me and probably for many of us, the thing that has stood out has been the extraordinary reactions of ordinary people.

From the tube messages, that for years have gone beyond grim announcements of service delays and cancellations, to ironic commentaries on London life,

 to the expressions of solidarity poured out on Twitter, to an MP – a politician, that most mistrusted breed of people – trying desperately to save PC Palmer’s life.

People have been good this week. They have shown that within us all there is a reservoir of kindness and generosity that us buttoned up Brits seldom show.

And in the candles in Trafalgar Square, and in the embrace of Muslim and Christian leaders, I see something that I want to thank God for. Because I believe that every good and perfect gift comes down from above, from the Father of lights, in whom there is no shifting shadows. Whether it’s the kindness of a stranger or the love of a mother, those things that nourish our souls more than anything else, are God’s gift.

So we heard 1 Corinthians 13 this morning, very appropriate for Mothering Sunday. But if you read it in the light of Wednesday in Westminster, how does it sound?

Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.

Keeps no record of wrongs? Can we do this?

 Yes we can. We can rejoice, not at injustice, but whenever the truth wins out. We need never give up, never lose faith, we can endure through every circumstance, not because our love is enough – it isn’t – but because God’s love stands behind it.

God’s love ensures that we can go on presenting our credit card of love at every opportunity, and God will make good the debt. We can go on pouring out love and goodness, and the well will never run dry.

Can a mother forget her nursing child? Can she feel no love for the child she has borne? Maybe she can. But even if that were possible, I would not forget you, God says.

So today we say thank you, Lord God. Thank you Jesus for the blood you shed, for the battle you won. Standing in its victory we sing salvation’s song.