For those who want a change from the Gospel

Trinity 18 – Isaiah 25:1-9 (Related)

Every day’s a school day. I learnt a new word this week – ‘anagogic’. It comes from two Greek words which mean ‘to be led above’, and it refers to a method of biblical exegesis, popular in mediaeval times, in which a passage is seen as having a much higher, or longer, focus. It’s like being taken up a mountain to get a different perspective on what life in the valley is really like. Isaiah 25 stands out like a mountain peak from the series of grim oracles of judgement to be found in chapters 13-24, and suddenly we are able to see things we have never seen before, with the result that a new song of praise to God comes forth from within us.

Clearly, in contrast to the very specific promises of judgement and destruction, this is a timeless prophecy. There’s a clue in the motif in v.8 of the end of death: no-one expects that to happen in this life. So what extra might we be able to see from on high, or from the perspective of the end of time, that we can’t see clearly now. And what effect might all that have on our present struggles?

For the last few chapters Isaiah has been prophesying against the nations around Judah, beginning with Babylon, who were soon going to capture Jerusalem and exile the people. but he has also added Jerusalem to the list (Is 22). The Jews are going to be the recipients of God’s anger every bit as much as the pagan nations they hate and fear. But in this vision we are led up to see beyond the coming destruction, and gain a longer perspective. The foreigners’ city (unspecified) is going to become a heap of rubble, never to be rebuilt. And the foreigners themselves are going to hold the Jews in honour, and be the recipients of God’s bounty at a great feast. This is more than just Magnificat theology, where the mighty are cast down and the humble and meek exalted. It is an eschatological vision of a world in harmony, where death, sorrow and disgrace will be things of the past. What looked so devastating from the valley floor is a mere blip when you can see from the mountaintop.

But what is really interesting about this passage is what it reveals of God. The people are encouraged to praise God’s name, although his name is not given here. But Isaiah’s favourite name for God, which occurs across all three sections of the book, is ‘The Holy One of Israel’. It is God’s holiness, and not his love, which is to be celebrated. And that personal holiness, a characteristic of God, shows itself in righteousness, his treatment of his creation. So the uproar of Judah’s oppressors is silenced, and their ruthlessness is stilled. Instead, let’s all have a great banquet, where those same ruthless people will come to honour God and his people.

But there are two other interesting pictures of God here. The first is that he is a shelter from the storm and a shade from the heat (v.4), where the oppression of the nations is seen as stormy or hot. How does a shelter work? It absorbs. It comes between us and the danger and takes the oppression on itself so that it doesn’t get through to us. Umbrellas do keep us dry, but they get wet themselves. God doesn’t remove evil but he does absorb it so that we are protected. That sounds just like the cross to me! The disciples and others expected Jesus to defeat the Roman oppressors, but he took in his body the violence that should have been ours. And then there’s that unusual phrase in v.8, about God ‘swallowing up’ death. It’s the same idea. God absorbs death in himself. He is, in the words of one commentator, the ‘death-eater’.

When you’re struggling in the valley, or living in a bombed-out shell of a building in Ukraine, or desperately trying to escape the Taliban in Afghanistan, all you can see is the here and now, just as Judah could only see the collapse of their nation and the looming threat from those around. God reminds his people that there is a longer view, calls them to praise him, and promises a future of life and prosperity. I’m glad to be one of his people!