Isaiah 65: 17-25, a segment that begins in verse 8, has the theme of the promise of the Lord.
This passage reminds us of an important truth. God is the creator of all that is and is therefore constantly moving us to the new thing. When we work with God, we are working with one who wants a new heaven and new earth. If we think of nature at this point, science has shown us that the universe has continued to change from the initial “big bang.” The universe continues to change and expand. The heavens and the earth have been changing all along their history. Yet, the prophet focuses upon the concerns of the post-exilic community. Given the harshness of this world, if we believe in the providential care of God for this world, it will take a new heaven and earth to bring reconciliation and peace. His vision includes moving us toward the new. Jerusalem is recently destroyed and a shell of its former life. The city becomes an image of what God will do to bring renewal and transformation. In the Bible, Jerusalem is often set in contrast between its present conflicted reality and its symbol of a renewed people of God. He envisions a time without weeping, fullness of a human life, security, receiving the fruit of their labor, and the nearness of the Lord. He then offers the powerful vision of the wolf and lamb feeding together in peace. Isaiah 11:6-9, has a more elaborate image. It refers to the wolf and lamb, the leopard and young goat, the calf and the lion, and a little child leading them. This image of nature being at peace is a powerful one. He envisions that the redemption of humanity involves the rest of creation, rather than God taking humanity out of it. The vision has provided hope and inspiration to the people of God ever since.
The poem distinguishes faithful from spurious Israel, a common feature of post-exilic Israel. It clearly distinguishes between those within the community who remain faithful to the covenant and those who have abandoned it. The community may deserve to have God reject it, but it contains the blessing of the righteous. The only specific sin mentioned here is superstitious worship. This dual capacity of Jerusalem to function as both symbol and physical manifestation of hopes and ideals persists throughout the biblical record (see Revelation 21:2). The biblical record shows a tension between the present and the future, the earthly and the heavenly, the real and the ideal Jerusalem. This approaches what scholars call apocalyptic material. The salvation the prophet expects is beyond history.
17 For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. The creation of “new heavens and a new earth” marks a distinct shift from the preceding words of salvation and judgment directed toward, on the one hand, the Lord’s “chosen” (v. 9) and against, on the other, those “who forsake the Lord” (v. 11). New things in nature are part of the creative acts of God, and thus, evolution is possible to understand as the creative act of God. Yet, in eschatological expectation, we read of the creation of a new heaven and a new earth. All these works participate in the quality of divine action at the creation of the world.[1] Jewish expectation linked the hope of the reign of God to the idea of overturning of the natural conditions of human existence itself. Nothing less than a new heaven a new earth will actualize the reign of God.[2] Revelation 21:1 and 20:11 use the image as well. Typical of late prophecy/early apocalyptic, the imagery is of a sharp reward/punishment dichotomy, with clear demarcations between those in the Israelite community who remained faithful to the Yahwistic covenant and those who, in the prophet’s estimation, abandoned it. The contrast refers exclusively to the religious community of the post-exilic Israelites; the prophecy pays no attention at all to foreign nations, including Israel’s Babylonian captors and traditional adversaries such as Moab and Edom. The parallel between faithful and faithless no longer reflects the parallel distinction between Israel and the nations, a theme that runs prominently throughout the Hebrew Bible but between some elements within the Israelite worshiping community and other elements, also within that community. It is out of the cognitive dissonance of a covenantal community in conflict with itself that apocalyptic images of a new heaven and a new earth, rather than a rearranged and purified old earth, emerged. 18 Nevertheless, be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating; for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy, and its people as a delight. Attention shifts almost immediately to Jerusalem, scene of centuries of conflict and suffering, and the symbol of both Israel’s highest aspirations as a sociopolitical entity and religious epicenter, and its most humiliating failures and defeats. Jerusalem, its inhabitants and its environs will be the focus of the rest of the vision, expanding Jerusalem’s significance beyond the merely temporal-geographical, on the one hand, and concretizing the eschatological vision in mundane realities, on the other. This dual capacity of Jerusalem to function as both symbol and physical manifestation of hopes and ideals persists throughout the biblical record (see Revelation 21:2). In the words of one commentator on Jerusalem, “There has always been a tension between the present and the future, the earthly and the heavenly, the real and the ideal Jerusalem.” 19 I will rejoice in Jerusalem, and delight in my people; no more shall anyone hear the sound of weeping, or the cry of distress. Beginning with a vision of a new heaven and earth, the prophet focuses upon Jerusalem, the epicenter of Israelite national and religious life, and the symbol of Israel’s complicated relationship with its God. The outward and visible signs of the divine blessing include the cessation of weeping and cries of distress, which may be the result of such natural calamities as famine or, more likely, human-made calamities such as war. The prophetic imagery is deliberately vague to allow the widest possible resonance with hearers. The transformation about to take place involves not only the physical city of Jerusalem, but also and most especially its inhabitants. For the purposes of the remainder of the oracle, the prophet presents inhabitants of the city simpliciter, with no mention of the “former things,” which included rancorous disagreement over the nature and future of the city (and, with it, the nation). The picture is an idealized representation of God’s chosen people in peace and prosperity in God’s chosen space. 20 No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime; for people will consider one who dies at a hundred years as a youth, and they will consider one who falls short of a hundred accursed. It was precisely that tearfully unremarkable existence experienced by most people in most societies throughout most of history that the prophet sees coming to an imminent end. The regular ravages of warfare to which Israel was subjected by the dominant powers in the ancient Near East — the Egyptians, the Hittites, the Aramaeans, the Assyrians, and the Babylonians — meant that conquest, capture, despoilment, displacement, and slavery were ever-present realities for the ordinary populace. Further, high infant mortality was a way of life in pre-penicillin societies, so much so that one can assume its presence as background reality in most ancient literature, including the Bible, and the reference here to the infant living a few days is one of the few biblical acknowledgements of one of life’s harshest ancient realities. At the opposite end of the human life span is the old person who dies young at 100! 21 They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. Although much of the Israelite population, both before and after the exile, was rural and subsisted on agriculture, systems of commerce emerged with the rise of cities to support a non-farming urban population of court officials, bureaucrats, religious functionaries and artisans. The promise contained here reflects assurance of peace from war. 22 They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat; for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be, and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands. This statement is a radical overturning of what, for ancient Israel, was simply normal life. 23 They shall not labor in vain, or bear children for calamity; for they shall be offspring blessed by the Lord—and their descendants as well. 24 Before they call I will answer, while they are yet speaking I will hear. The new earth will be a restored Paradise. The Lord will be so near that God will answer their prayers before they speak them. God knows our need before we do; God hears us before we even have the good sense to call upon God. And often, God answers before we make the call. This may not bring world peace, but it sure brings inner peace. 25 The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; but the serpent—its food shall be dust! They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the Lord. The concluding images of the passage remind us of Isaiah 11:6-9, where the imagery is more elaborate. It refers to the wolf and lamb, the leopard and young goat, the calf and the lion, and a little child leading them. This image of nature being at peace is a powerful one. The images function here to broaden the scope of the salvific nature of the promised restoration to include not only the socio-political realities faced by the post-exilic Israelite community, but all of creation. Spurred by ecological concerns, biblical scholars in recent decades have begun to recognize that redemption in much of prophetic and eschatological literature encompasses all of creation and not simply its human component. The vision of a new heaven and a new earth is comprehensive, and there is no salvation for human beings apart from the natural world around them. The Lord saves humans with creation, not out of it.
The theme of this passage was captured in music (by Randall Thompson, "The Peaceable Kingdom," 1936), poetry (by Jon Silkin, The Peaceable Kingdom, 1954) and in the celebrated series of 62 paintings by Edward Hicks ("Peaceable Kingdom," begun in 1820 and continued, unfinished, until Hicks' death in 1849). Isaiah's vision of a new heaven and a new earth, rendered twice in the book that bears his name, has provided hope and inspiration to countless people in two of the world's great religions.
“I abhor the idea of a perfect world. It would bore me to tears,” said Shelby Foote. Some of us might think that way. Leibniz made the argument that this world is the best of all possible worlds. That thought discourages some of us. Some people do not see movies because they interfere with their daydreams (T. S. Eliot), which they obviously cherish. On the other hand, some of us like to let our minds wander. “It sure would be nice” … You can fill in the rest. Most of us can daydream a bit about how the world, or at least our part of the world, would be better if certain things fell into place. If you get into dreaming big, we call it “Utopia.” Such a vision might inspire us to act.
According to Google, there are only seven communities worldwide named "Utopia," and six of them are in the United States. Actually, though, that statement is misleading. The Utopia in Kansas is now a ghost town, and larger communities with other names have subsumed the ones in Florida, New York and Illinois. A few people live in what was Utopia, Ohio, but the community by that name is now a historical memory. Utopia, Texas, is still there, although with a population of less than 250. The one not in the United States is in New South Wales, Australia, and it is little more than a spot on the map.
It is significant that no utopias have really thrived. Sir Thomas More coined the word “utopia” in 1516. He used it as the name of a fictional island society in a novel he published with a long Latin title that translates On the Best State of a Republic and on the New Island of Utopia. His book depicted a communal society where the citizens shared everything in a way that everyone benefitted. To name the island, More combined two Greek words, topos, which means "place" or "where," and u or ou, which means "no" or "not," giving a literal meaning of "nowhere" or "not-place." His book was a sly criticism of the European society of his day. Among More's targets were the abuse of the royal prerogative and land enclosure practices that worked against the common good, both of which were major societal problems in 16th-century England. In More's book, they contrasted with the uncomplicated society of the Utopians. They worked six hours a day, beginning the day with three hours of lectures. He envisioned no private property. Leaders commit themselves to peace rather than war. The people do not focus on things like jewels and wealth. There were no lawyers. Religions respected their differences while recognizing what united them.
Today, in keeping with More's original meaning, utopia denotes an imagined place or state of things in which everything is perfect. In fact, synonyms for utopia include "paradise," "Shangri-La," "nirvana" and "heaven on earth." Most of us would conclude that such a place or society is not achievable among humankind. The etymology of the word -- meaning "nowhere" or "not-place" -- tells the whole story. As one person put it, utopia "is nice to think about, but on this earth, you're not going to find it -- because wherever and whenever a human being enters a paradise, paradise is lost." Or, as someone else has said, "Abandon all hope of utopia -- there are people involved."
Nevertheless, in the decades preceding the Civil War, a certain idealism among some people led to the founding of communities called Utopia because the founders were intent on trying to create societies as close to perfect as they could. For example, the followers of French philosopher Charles Fourier in 1844 established Ohio's Utopia. He called for "intentional communities" based on equal sharing of resources and labor. The people who came to that Utopia were spiritualists who wanted a secluded area to practice their religion. The town was on the banks of the Ohio River, and unfortunately, many of its settlers died in a flash flood in 1847. Most of the survivors moved away. There are people living in the area today, but they are not communalists and the town, as such, has become a roadside marker placed by the Ohio Historical Society. After telling of the flood and the deaths, the marker includes this sentence: "Thus, the idea of the perfect society, or utopia, died."
My point here, though, is that such a dream of a better place, even a perfect place, can inspire people to change their lives in accord with that vision. One writer put it this way.
Utopia is on the horizon. I move two steps closer; it moves two steps further away. I walk another 10 steps and the horizon runs 10 steps further away. As much as I may walk, I'll never reach it.
So what's the point of utopia?
The point is this: to keep walking.[3]
This passage lifts up a vision of a new world that is not so much about us building a perfect world as keeping before us the world God will bring. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done” we pray in the Lord’s Prayer. Knowing the world God will bring should inspire us today to move toward what God wants. I invite you to consider a few points.
The agenda here, for one thing, is honesty. We are not to conclude by looking around us that things ought to be this way.
Children and youth are at risk.
Alienation between differing political visions is high today.
An Internet meme
I refuse to hate religious people or atheist.
… black, white, Asian, Hispanic
… Trump or Clinton voters
… Gay People
… Men or Women
I refuse to hate
We need to look around us and see what is there. It is very easy to ignore the suffering of the marginalized and oppressed and the difficulties of those with less than ourselves. Moreover, where there is ignorance, there is indifference; and where there is indifference, there is intolerance. Where there is intolerance, there is injustice.
Isaiah shows us the dream, a device not unlike what Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. used in his “I Have a Dream” speech. The dream makes it clear that the reality we experience now is not what we want for ourselves, or what God wants for us. The dream keeps before us a reminder of how far we yet must go. So when we look around us — that is honesty.
The agenda here, for another thing, is hope. The author points his readers and us to a better day. Today’s reality is not truly satisfying, today’s injustice is not acceptable, today’s unhappiness is not permanent, and today’s experience of life is not the end of the story. God’s dream has not come true in the world today — that is correct. Isaiah gives us this vision to keep us focused on something beyond the reality of our present unhappiness, and he promises that God will offer us a peaceful kingdom in surprising times and places. Probably when we least expect it.
David Argo is a Methodist pastor who spent his teenage years in a turbulent relationship with his mother. The two of them felt quite distant from one another. Then, when he was a young adult, they battled over which of them had the correct view of the world — a battle that led to an uneasy truce. As they both grew older, they invested less and less energy in who was right and who was wrong, but they never really felt a sense of peace in their relationship. Then, when she was 92, David’s mother suffered a massive stroke. The doctor said that she might not live for long, so David traveled across several states to be with her. He sat by her bed, not knowing if she were aware of his presence or not. For several days, he talked to her, sang hymns to her, read the Bible to her, prayed, and cried. The hospice staff was amazed that she was continuing to live. Finally, one of them said, “We think she just enjoys having you here.” David realized that he had not been in the same room with her for entire days since the time he was an infant. Somewhere in those nights and days, he realized that “the wolf and the lamb were feeding together.” Of course, he was not sure exactly who the wolf was ... and who the lamb was.
David received an experience of God’s glorious new creation as he sat by his mother’s bed. He came to understand that there are people that he needs to sit with, spend time with, and find a way to see more clearly. Even if he once saw his mother as an enemy, he has found that a shared hunger can allow a peaceful new creation to unfold — even here, even now.
In a democracy, election season could cause us to pause and listen to the heart, dream, and desires of those with whom we differ. We can sit with them and hear them in a new way.
We need to step back from our position and realize that our vision of utopia may conflict with others. Recall the scene in Miss Congeniality (2000), starring Sandra Bullock and William Shatner, playing contestant Gracie Hart and emcee Stan Fields, respectively. The pageant begins, and when Gracie is interviewed on stage in front of a live television audience, Fields asks her: “What is the one most important thing that our society needs?” Gracie says, “That would be harsher punishment for parole violators, Stan … and world peace!” Thunderous applause ensues.
So, when we look beyond us — that is hope. If hope is a waking dream (Aristotle), then maybe hope keeps us alert to the ways in which we can make the vision of God for this world a reality. Finally, the prophet gives us a vision of God who will bring this “dream” to pass. The introduction of this kingdom is an entirely God-centered event. Let us review: no weeping, super-longevity, housing for everyone, vineyards and plenty of fruit, descendants will be blessed, God will hear prayers before they are spoken, the wolf and the lamb will “feed together,” and the “lion shall eat straw like the ox.”
Okay, then. Only God can do this. The reminder is important because it is so easy to believe that God has totally lost control. Things are out of hand. Where is God? How can there be a God? The dream machine of the prophet evokes the image of a God who is very much hands-on, a God who will bring to pass what we cannot do for ourselves. This reminder is important in an age that, if political leaders with a coercive mindset can have a utopia in their heads that they hope to impose politically and economically upon society. Such political ideologies are dangerous they may have a genuine belief that they are well motivate and that the goal is peaceful and just, even while they engage in political behaviors that intimidate with shaming, canceling from social media, limiting the availability of opposing views in the public square, using law enforcement agencies to intimidate the opposition, and even having a contingent that intimidates with violence in the streets.
So, when we look at the world with new eyes — that is God! A God who works with us to bring about the will of God — on earth as it is in heaven. To recap:
When we look around us — that is honesty.
When we look beyond us — that is hope.
When we look at the world with new eyes — that is God!
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