Isaiah 40:21-31 continue the theme of the Lord as creator and savior. The exile was a time of discouragement and hopelessness for many Jews living in Babylon. The prophet will want them to see who the Lord is as creator, and therefore, to see the Lord will save them.
We will see immediately that II Isaiah views creation as an argument for the expectation of a new saving action on the part of the Lord that will demonstrate afresh the divine power over the course of history.[1] It begins with a series of rhetorical questions addressed to Israelites. 21 Have you not known? Have you not heard? The expected answer is yes, of course, we have known and heard from our religious tradition. However, the prophet then asks an unexpected pair of questions. He asks them of the elders have taught them from the beginning? Me-rosh occurs only nine times in the Hebrew Bible, four of them in Isaiah, and most of them in materials attributed to priestly circles. Along with the frequent use of priestly technical terminology, II Isaiah also seems to rely heavily on words found in late prophetic traditions (e.g., Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Daniel). The prophet also relies on ideas and words from the wisdom tradition common to Israel and the broader ancient Near East. Have you not understood from the foundations[2] of the earth? Ordinarily, the emphasis in the expression “foundations of the earth” is on place rather than time, as it appears to mean here. For example, in Micah 6:2, it parallels “mountains”; in Isaiah 24:18, it parallels the “windows of heaven”; in Jeremiah 31:37, it parallels “heavens above,” and in Psalm 82:5, unjust gods shake the “foundations of the earth”. The unusual usage reflects the poetic genius of the author of our passage. Here the answer to the question is less obvious — biblical Israel never made any claim to have been present “from the foundations of the earth.” The book of Job, in fact, makes the point that no human was present at creation and therefore was not privy to God’s original actions or intentions (and therefore could not pass, on such knowledge, as the revealed religious tradition was transmitted). The prophet clearly has a different understanding of how God revealed the knowledge of God “from the beginning” to the Israelites. To use later theological terminology, the prophet understands that the first knowledge of God is through general (natural) revelation rather than special (Sinai) revelation. The prophet appeals to the natural world as the sign of the existence and presence of the Lord with Israel. The prophet explores nature through the cosmology of his time. Thus, the Lord 22 sits above the circle (chuq, referring to a vault or horizon, occurring only in Job 22:14 and Proverbs 8:27 as well. The word means the apogee or farthest reach of a circle. The emphasis here, as in the Job passage, is on great distance — as far as the eye can see. Thus, the Lord sits even above the farthest circle of the earth, and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers. Such a description is more familiar to most readers of the Bible from the account of Israel’s encounter with the gigantic Nephilim in Numbers 13:33 (“. . . and to ourselves we seemed like grasshoppers, and so we seemed to them”). However, the word is not common, occurring only in these two places and Leviticus 11:22 (where the Torah declares the insect ritually suitable for eating, as we also learn of John the Baptizer in Matthew 3:4), II Chronicles 7:13, and Ecclesiastes 12:5. Continuing with ancient cosmology, the Lord stretches out the heavens like a curtain, doq, which occurs only here. It derives from a verbal root meaning “crush,” “pulverize,” “thresh,” and the adjectival meaning of “thin,” ”small,” ”fine” suggests the gossamer quality of the sky-dome, through which the ancient Israelites believed the waters above the earth that provided rain could be seen. To continue the cosmological metaphor, the Lord spreads them like a tent in which to live. As the prophet sees it, the sky is like a dome over the earth. The key point here is that based upon what the prophet sees in terms of the Lord as creator, in the next two verses, we will see the prophet bind together creation and history. For II Isaiah, a theology of creation and a theology of history combine. The Lord 23 brings princes to naught, and makes the rulers of the earth as nothing (Job 12:18-19). The prophet links the argument from nature with the argument from geopolitical history. The enduring presence of the Lord in the physical world contrasts well with the transitory nature of social realities. Thus, 24 scarcely are they planted, scarcely sown, scarcely has their stem taken root in the earth, when he blows upon them, and they wither (Job 12:16-25). The prophet then refers to the tempest, sa’arah, which in the Bible refers to a figure of divine wrath (e.g., Isaiah 29:6; 41:16; Ezekiel 13:11, 13) or some other supernatural storm (such as Elijah’s translation to heaven in a “whirlwind,” II Kings 2:1, 11, or the storm theophanies to Ezekiel, 1:4; and Job, 38:1; 40:6). Only in late psalms does the word mean an ordinary storm. The tempest carries them off like stubble. Such a statement reminds us of Ecclesiastes 1:4, where generations of human beings come and go, but the earth remains. In Isaiah 40:8, the grass and flower fades, but the word of God stands forever. Such statements reflect the wisdom tradition. The theological vision of II Isaiah, then, may have arisen in response to and in reaction to a strain of wisdom-influenced theology that contrasted the apparent timelessness and changelessness of the natural world with the apparent randomness and purposelessness of individual and collective history, which we see in much of the book of Ecclesiastes. One may see in II Isaiah a response to a kind of proto-deism, the idea that although God exists, the interactions God has with the world ceased after creation. This passage seeks to counter that view by insisting that the Creator of the world remains very much concerned and involved with the ongoing struggles of Israel. The prophet has designed this lyrical poem to refute the charge of God's faithlessness, and to provide hope for Israel in its dismay.
The Lord through the prophet now asks another series of questions. 25 To whom then will you compare me, or who is my equal? In a title borrowed from the prophet Isaiah, the prophet identifies the speaker: says the Holy One. The passage shifts voice briefly with a direct quote from the deity. This divine appellation found only here, Job 6:10, and Habakkuk 3:3. The word “holy” is a favorite of the prophet — occurring some 60 times in the book, accounting for a fifth of all the occurrences of the word in the Hebrew Bible. It signals one of the dominant priestly-oriented themes of the prophet, the holiness of the God of Israel, usually referred to as “the Holy One of Israel” in Isaiah (1:4; 5:19, 24; 10:20; and more than 20 more times in Isaiah, but elsewhere only at II Kings 19:22; Isaiah 37:23; Jeremiah 50:29; 51:5; Psalm 71:22; 78:41; 89). Nowhere in the Hebrew Bible is the benevolent sovereignty of God, expressed as holiness, conveyed more clearly or eloquently than in the book of Isaiah. Related to the theological notion of the infinity of God, the prophet writes of the incomparability of the Holy One, which means that the designation “the Holy One of Israel” becomes a guarantee of the hope of redemption by the exiles.[3] As we continue, 26 lift up your eyes on high and see: Who created these? The Lord brings out their host or astral beings and numbers them, calling them all by name. The attitude of biblical writers toward them varies. Ordinarily, it conceives the heavenly host in a neutral way, as the celestial army under the command of the God of Israel, giving rise to the well-known designation of the God of Israel as “Yahweh (the Lord), the God of hosts” (II Samuel 5:10; I Kings 19:10, 14; Jeremiah 5:14; etc.). Negatively, prophets condemned Israelites when they worshiped the heavenly host as astral deities (Jeremiah 19:13; Zephaniah 1:5), and there is at least one reference to God punishing the heavenly host themselves (Isaiah 24:21). In contrast to this negative attitude toward the heavenly host, Isaiah’s statement that God names them is striking. Naming signifies that the Lord has power over them. II Isaiah completes this thought, because the Lord is great in strength, mighty in power, not one is missing. It implies a solicitous attitude of the deity toward the heavenly host not found elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible.
Next, the prophet answers the doubt of the people, who cannot see the hand of the Lord in the world of history or experience. We see again that in II Isaiah, belief in creation becomes an argument for the expectation of a new saving action on the part of the Lord that will demonstrate afresh the divine power over the course of history.[4] 27 Why do you say, O Jacob, and speak, O Israel, “My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God”? Here is the final set of rhetorical questions in this segment. The answer to these questions, one Israel ought to have known, is in the concluding verses. The Lord is tireless and full of vitality. The Lord is exactly what they need, for they are weak, faint, and lacking in energy. The Lord can do for them what they cannot do for themselves. 28 Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. God as everlasting relates to the theological notion of the infinity of God. The stress is on the pre-temporality of God. We also find the thought that God is always the same.[5] Affirming the Lord as creator does not remove the mystery. Further, mystery does not remove faith. The Lord does not faint, ya’ef, an uncommon word found exclusively in late prophetic texts (Isaiah 40:30; 44:12; Jeremiah 2:24; 51:58, 64; Habakkuk 2:13; Daniel 9:21) or grow weary, yagia,’ occasionally found in parallel with the first verb, (40:30, 31). Further, the Lord is unsearchable in understanding. The Lord is always active on behalf of the believer, and they receive power for what they must do. Israel must face the future with confidence in the promises of God. The passage is a reminder of the respect we ought to have for life. Humanity has a will for life. God calls humanity to life, and wills that humanity should not neglect this capacity, the power, strength, and force that God has given humanity, but rather, affirm and accept it.[6] Therefore, the Lord 29 gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless. 30 Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted. Such language should remind us of athletic metaphors. In a sense, souls are like athletes that need opponents worthy of them if they are to have the trials that extend and push them to the full use of their powers.[7] However, in human weakness, we learn about 31 those who wait, a root meaning to “twist, stretch, introduce tension,” and the noun means “line.” By extension, the word came to mean both “look eagerly for” and “lie in wait for” (Psalm 56:7). Importantly, none of the meanings of the verb denotes the purposeless biding of time that English speakers think of with the verb “wait.” They are to wait for the Lord. Of course, of all the things that Isaiah challenges us to do, waiting for the Lord is probably the toughest. We absolutely hate to wait. Yet, those who wait shall renew, chalaf, which means “to change,” “pass on,” ”away,” “through,” ”succeed” and implies less the return of lost vigor and more the receipt of different, divinely given vigor (here and at 41:1). The nominal form of the cognate verb in Arabic is the origin of the word Caliph, “successor” to Mohammed. The Lord shall renew their strength, (enshrining an example of biblical eloquence)they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint. We have here a hyperbole for restoring strength to the feeble, for when one weakened runs, it is as if that person sprouts wings.
The prophet has provided lasting images for human life and life with the Lord. Life can wear us down. We, of course, are not in the sandals of the exiles. Nevertheless, we, too, have a journey through life that can be exhausting and sapping, for there is no shortage of things that wear us down. For starters, there are simply the demands of each day. However, there are larger issues that sap our energy. If we pay attention to the news, we can hardly keep a bounce in our step. Closer to home, we can think of the stuff that undermines our vigor as well. We have problems at work, difficulties in our relationships, worries about our children, unwelcome interruptions in our plans and unexpected health difficulties. Even our trips to church sometimes add to the loads we carry.
To wait on the Lord is a challenge and a puzzle. How do we wait on the Lord? If we wait on the Lord, we are making time and creating space for the exploration of the meaning of our lives and the resources for the journey. For me, that means openness to the revelation of God we find in the Bible, in the Christian community, and even within the wide scope of Christian tradition. By faith, we step across the threshold and into the Christian house. No matter what happens, our lives are in the hands of the Lord, and they are hands bearing great love.
“I have a dream,” said Dr. King. He had a dream of the justice of God on earth. A dream of rough places made plain, with all flesh seeing it together. He had a dream of blacks and whites sitting down together at the table of unity. He had a dream of oppression and injustice transforming into freedom and justice.
“The old ones remind us that slavery’s chains / Have paid for our freedom again and again.” These are the words of the African-American poet Maya Angelou, offered at the Million Man March in 1995. Speaking to a huge crowd of black men on the Mall in Washington, D.C., she reminded them of their difficult and painful history, and then invited them to focus their lives on joy, courtesy, gentleness, and care. She said,
The ancestors remind us, despite the history of pain,
We are a going-on people who will rise again.
Powerful words. Hopeful words. Inspiring words. Words that culminate in Angelou’s closing line, “And still we rise.” One of the great strengths of the civil rights movement was its unbreakable link with the faith of the black church. The diplomat and author James Weldon Johnson became field secretary of the NAACP in 1916, and in 1921, he wrote the text to the hymn “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” which became an anthem of the struggle for racial justice.
Lift every voice and sing till earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of liberty.
Let our rejoicing rise high as the listening skies;
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Once called “The Black National Anthem,” this song now appears in hymnals throughout the Christian church. It goes on to say,
God of our weary years, God of our silent tears,
Thou who hast brought us thus far on the way;
Thou who hast by thy might led us into the light;
Keep us forever in the path, we pray.
[1] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 2, 12.
[2] This word deserves some consideration. Biblical Hebraica Stuttgartensia (BHS) suggests that we read the word as the singular construct of yesudah with a prefixed prepositional mem (“from the foundation”) rather than the plural construct of the noun mosad, which also means foundation. The BHS reading more closely parallels the preceding parallel line of poetry, which also employs the prepositional mem; the NRSV combines the received text and the suggested editorial emendation.
[3] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 1, 399.
[4] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 2, 12.
[5] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology Volume 1, 402.
[6] Barth, Church Dogmaticds III.4 [55.1] 390.
[7] Thomas Merton.
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