We the People of God Set Free—Lectionary Reflection for Advent 1B (Isaiah 64)

Isaiah 64:1-9 New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition

64 O that you would tear open the heavens and come down,
    so that the mountains would quake at your presence—
² as when fire kindles brushwood
    and the fire causes water to boil—
to make your name known to your adversaries,
    so that the nations might tremble at your presence!
³ When you did awesome deeds that we did not expect,
    you came down; the mountains quaked at your presence.
⁴ From ages past no one has heard,
    no ear has perceived,
no eye has seen any God besides you,
    who works for those who wait for him.
⁵ You meet those who gladly do right,
    those who remember you in your ways.
But you were angry, and we sinned;
    because you hid yourself we transgressed.
⁶ We have all become like one who is unclean,
    and all our righteous deeds are like a filthy cloth.
We all fade like a leaf,
    and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away.
⁷ There is no one who calls on your name
    or attempts to take hold of you,
for you have hidden your face from us
    and have delivered us into the hand of our iniquity.
⁸ Yet, O Lord, you are our Father;
    we are the clay, and you are our potter;
    we are all the work of your hand.
⁹ Do not be exceedingly angry, O Lord,
    and do not remember iniquity forever.
    Now consider, we are all your people.

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                As the liturgical year turns, we move from contemplating divine judgment to a time of expectation that can include divine judgment. The liturgical season of Advent easily gets enmeshed with the rush to Christmas. I understand the attractiveness of the more commercialized elements of the season, but we would be wise not to neglect this season of expectation and preparation. As with Lent, the season of Advent invites us to look inward and consider where we need to make changes in preparation for what is to come. In this case, it’s the coming of the incarnate one, the one we will call Emmanuel. But it’s not just the one born in Bethlehem, it’s the one who is to come, the one known as the Son of Man who comes to judge the righteous and the unrighteous (Matt. 25:31-46). It is the latter vision that we most often set aside in our rush through the season, but we need to keep both pictures in play.

                It is often customary in churches, at least in the churches I’ve served and could choose the hymns, to begin the Advent season singing “O come, O come Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel, that mourns in lonely exile here, until the Son of God appear.” This plea for Emmanuel’s arrival, which according to the hymn leads to rejoicing, leads us into our reading from Isaiah 64, a passage best known for its reference to God the potter and we the clay. This reading from the one we often call Third Isaiah, speaks to a community recently liberated from exile but who discover that the homeland has experienced devastation.

                Our reading is part of a larger piece that begins in Isaiah 63:7 and continues to Isaiah64:12. The larger passage begins with a figure recounting “the gracious deeds of the LORD, the praiseworthy acts of the LORD” (Is. 63:7). While this larger passage remembers God’s mercy, it also provides a prayer of penitence. This prayer includes a word of lament for the state in which Judah finds itself. The message here originates during the post-exilic period, after the exiles return to Jerusalem and find everything destroyed, including the Temple. Seeing this reality, the people feel alone and abandoned. Where once there had been signs of God’s presence with the people, now they only saw signs of abandonment. They had been taught that when God came down it was with powerful signs. Mountains quaked and bushes burst into flames. The apocalyptic element of this passage, which speaks of God opening the heavens and coming down, has a parallel in the Gospel reading from Mark 13, which speaks of the Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power (Mk 13:24-37). There is an expectation that this will take place soon in Mark, and so the people need to stay on the alert. As for the audience of Isaiah 64, none of that was taking place, and so the people cried out to God, pleading that God would remember them. They want God to act in a way that would cause their adversaries to tremble (Is. 64:1-3).

                As they pray this lament, asking God to remember them and act on their behalf, they acknowledge that no one has heard nor seen God besides the one who waits for God, perhaps imagining Moses, who is named earlier in Isaiah 63. Yes, those who do right will see God, but those who act contrary to God’s ways will be met with anger. Thus, the author of this passage acknowledges that the exiles had transgressed and become unclean. Having acknowledged this state of sin, the author acknowledges God to be the potter, and they the clay. Indeed, the author acknowledges the nation, and perhaps the people themselves, to be the work of God’s hand. Therefore, the author pleads with God not to be exceedingly angry or remember their iniquity. In other words, the exiles want to be given a fresh start. Most importantly, the author speaking on behalf of the returning exiles, wants to make sure that God has not forgotten them, though they do want God to forget their iniquity.

                As I noted above, Advent carries with it an eschatological message, as does the day’s reading from Mark 13. The prayer here is for God to rip open heaven and make God’s presence known to the world. This word comes to people who feel God’s absence, a feeling many of us share at least at certain points in our lives. Advent serves as a point of reference where we can ponder that absence as we prepare for the coming of the one who reveals God’s presence (the child born in Bethlehem—first advent—and the Son of Man coming in the clouds—second advent).

                So, we gather on the First Sunday of Advent not only to begin a new liturgical cycle (Year B) with the bright lights of Christmas shining all around us but we are also invited to participate in a communal lament. This is part of the preparation for the coming Day of the Lord. This Advent season reminds us that we live in an interregnum, the periods between the two advents (this is true even if one believes that a literal second coming of Christ will not take place). Amy Plantinga Pauw comments on our state of existence, putting it this way: “Though the church’s existence is predicated on the fact that Christ has come, many parts of God’s world seem bereft of Christ’s healing and transforming presence. Church also longs for the fullness of Christ’s presence in its midst, mending all that is broken and bringing the joy of salvation to its promised fruition” [Church in Ordinary Time, p. 120]. The returning exiles discover that their capital city is in ruins and that “our holy and beautiful house, where our ancestors praised you, has been burned by fire, and all our pleasant places have become ruins” (Is. 64:11). As we ponder this passage, while wars in places like Ukraine and Gaza, as well as elsewhere across the globe, what once were pleasant places have become ruins. The people properly lament. We may not be facing quite the same situation in material terms, but perhaps we are experiencing it spiritually. So, we too cry out to God to mend our broken world and our lives as well.

We read this passage at the beginning of Advent, a season that is often seen as offering us an opportunity to do a bit of self-reflection. It invites us to consider those things that get in the way of our relationships with God and others. It can be an uncomfortable season, especially considering the penitential nature that the season often takes on as we prepare ourselves spiritually for welcoming the incarnate one. Nevertheless, this is also the Sunday churches light the candle of Hope. So, while the reading from Isaiah 64 offers us a prayer of lament, that acknowledges our transgressions and God’s apparent absence, it does offer a word of hope. That hope is found in the recognition that God is “our Father.” Yes, God is the potter, and we are the clay. We are the work of God’s hands. Therefore, we are connected to God our creator. Indeed, the author claims the position of being part of God’s people. The larger passage provides context, as it recounts God’s gracious deeds. Indeed, the author acknowledges that God has said “Surely they are my people” (Is. 63:10).  It is on that basis, of God’s faithfulness in the past, that the author asks God to no longer remember the iniquity of the people but acknowledge their connection to God, for “we are all your people.”

So, as we gather around the Candle of Hope and recount God’s deeds, we can consider those signs of hope, even amid brokenness. This sense of hope is not simply optimism. Hope is expectation, which is why the author calls for God to tear open the heavens and come down once more. We may feel as if these are God-forsaken times, with the political situation in many places, including the United States, worrying. There is little room for optimism, but we can live in hope, for God has been and is and will be with us, even if we don’t feel that presence at the moment. Our hope begins in lament and repentance. We can offer both because we trust that God is with us. The message of Advent is that one is coming who will embody that hope, for the one who is coming is named Emmanuel. The incarnation may not seem as dramatic as God tearing open the heavens and descending into our midst, but in a way that is what happens here. So, we sing: “O Come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel, that mourns in lonely exile here, until the Son of God appear.” Yes, and “Rejoice, rejoice! Emanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.”