God's New Way

 Somewhere around the year 600 BCE, Babylon conquered Judah. The city of Jerusalem was destroyed, and many groups of Jews were deported, sent to live in exile.

One of the hardest things for them was not being able to gather together for worship in the temple. In Psalm 137, we hear their song of lament. “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, crying because we remembered Zion… How could we possibly sing the Lord’s song on foreign soil?”

At our coffee tables and dining tables, in our living rooms and bedrooms, there we sat down, crying, because we remembered when we were all together… How could we possibly worship the Lord apart from the congregation?

It would be 50, 60, 70 years before the Jews were able to return to Jerusalem, rebuild the temple, and once again gather within its walls to worship.

For us, it’s been five months since we all were able to gather together within the walls of this sanctuary, for worship. We are starting to understand, in a new way, the sorrow and the longing to return that the Jews experienced in Babylon. 

In the book of Isaiah, we encounter writings that were written before, during, and after this time of exile. Naturally, the content and tone changes over time, depending on when they were written.

Early in Isaiah, there is judgment and condemnation. The prophet says, “this is what is going to happen to you, because you have neglected God’s ways. You have neglected the ways of justice. You have rebelled. You have oppressed the poor and needy.”

Then, later, in the midst of exile, there is consolation. “Comfort, comfort my people; speak compassionately to Jerusalem.”

And finally, near the end of exile, there is a new vision for a restored nation that is, finally, once again able to worship in Jerusalem. In Isaiah 43, God says through the prophet, “Look! I’m about to do a new thing!” And in today’s scripture - Isaiah 56 - we see how that “new thing” plays out.

It is a timely message for the people, because at the end of their long exile, as they returned to Jerusalem, and as they rebuilt their temple, there must have been some thought as to what, exactly, their newly reconstituted nation should look like, and what, exactly, their newly reconstituted house of worship should look like. After their terrible ordeal, how should they restructure their nation, their temple, and their society?

Should they try to make it just like it was before, or should it be different?

In light of the trauma they had endured, they could very easily have chosen to toughen themselves up. They  have circled the wagons, built higher walls, and reinforced traditional standards of purity and holiness. After the terrible hardship inflicted upon them by foreign powers, they could very easily have hardened their own hearts against anything foreign, and seek to preserve their own identity by not accepting outsiders into their society.

Or, they could soften their hearts, and open up their nation and their religion to others, and be a blessing to others - a city on a hill shining for all to see, and welcoming all people with love and compassion. After the harsh way they were treated by Babylon, they could show the world another way, a way of blessing.

Well. Which would it be?

The more hardline approach has its support in several Old Testament passages. When Israel first established itself as a nation, there were rules against marrying foreigners and immigrants, or allowing immigrants to worship at the temple. 

There were rules against welcoming others as well. Eunuchs, for example; because they did not fit within the parameters of what was considered normal. They were sexually different. And anything different was seen as a threat to the unity and stability of the nation.

Following exile, would the people maintain those strict, exclusionary policies?

There are many today who prefer this rigid, hardlined approach to things. There are many today who stand against the inclusion of those who are different. There are many who are against immigrants in our society - they want to deny immigrants and refugees their rights, because they see immigrants and refugees as a threat to the nation’s stability and their own wellbeing.

And the same goes for those who are sexually different. Those who are sexually different or whose gender identity doesn’t fit within what society considers normal are still not welcome in many places, including many churches.

Now, as terrible as the years in exile were, Isaiah saw the end of those terrible years as an opportunity to allow God to do something new with the church; with the temple. It was time for a new vision.

And so, in Isaiah 56, God says to the immigrants and to the sexually different: welcome. The new, rebuilt temple will be a place of joy for you. The house of God will be a house of prayer for all peoples. God will gather all the outcasts together. 

This is the new thing that God is doing.

And God is still doing that new thing, today.

The choice that the Jews had as their time in exile came to an end - the choice between hunkering down and opening up - is a choice we have as well. It’s the choice between hardening our hearts, or allowing God to make our hearts soft. It’s the choice between walling ourselves off, or opening ourselves up.

This week, I watched Immigration Nation on Netflix. The makers of this documentary series were given unprecedented access to ICE operations, and also profiled a number of immigrant families, to present a deep look at immigration in the US today.

I don’t know what, exactly, the answer is to all the issues surrounding immigration - who should be allowed in to this country, who should be given amnesty, and what opportunities should be available to those who are undocumented. I knew even before watching Immigration Nation that these are complex issues.

But what surprised and shocked me most was how terribly these immigrants are treated. I had heard about family separation and children in cages, but to actually see it, and other horrible practices, really opens one’s eyes.

Many of the agents rounding up immigrants sound as if they are out hunting coyotes or wolves. Immigrants are rounded up, hunted down, and herded. They are detained in captivity for months. The separation of young children from their families is a practice that was supposed to have ended, but many have still not been reunited with their families. This has left permanent emotional and psychological scars on those children, scars that will never heal.

This is not the vision Isaiah presents. This is not the vision God presents. This is not how God’s people are supposed to treat their fellow human beings!

So many of these immigrants are doing everything right. But it’s still not enough. Some are veterans. They have fought for this country; made sacrifices for this country. But this country still treats them like animals. Like trash. 

It is difficult to realize how hardened our hearts have become. 

When I think of hardened hearts, I think of Pharaoh in the book of Exodus. The Bible says that Pharaoh’s heart was hardened. And because Pharaoh’s heart was hardened, he treated the Hebrew people harshly. They were foreigners, immigrants who had come from the land of Canaan. Pharaoh made them into slaves. Pharaoh denied their humanity. Pharaoh considered them as property, as something to profit off of. Pharaoh didn’t see them as human.

Our country treats immigrants the same way Pharaoh treated the Hebrews. Once they are picked up by ICE, immigrants are often held in detention  - prisons, really - run by for-profit corporations. They can be kept there for months, a year, or longer. A man named Mario, who has lived here in Long Beach for 30 years, raising a family, has been held in one of these facilities for two years now, while he waits to find out whether or not he will be deported. Two years.

Immigration judges work for homeland security and are not part of the judicial branch of government - They are in the executive branch - and they have been ordered to fill those detention facilities, to keep them full, so that the corporations running them can continue making a profit.

So, just like Pharaoh, our nation sees immigrants like Mario as a plague, an infestation, their only value being how much money we can profit off of them. The leaders who support these policies are no better than Pharaoh himself.

And if we ignore this situation, if we keep silent, because we don’t want to offend anyone with our politics, then we are no better than the countless Egyptians who lived under Pharaoh and who refused to protest, refused to stand with the oppressed Hebrews, refused to look the Hebrews in the eye, all because they benefited from the way things were. So they remained silent.

This is not God’s vision of how the world should be; which is why Isaiah, and all the other prophets, so forcefully paint a picture of what God’s new vision looks like.

It’s a vision that God sets before us today, in our time.

In so many ways, God is using this time to move us to a new way of living, a new way of doing worship, a new way of being church… and most importantly, a new way of showing love and compassion to our fellow human beings.

It is, as Isaiah says, rooted in justice. We are called to join with immigrants and refugees, and people of various sexual orientations and gender identities, in pursuing justice and doing what is right for all people. 

Just as their time in exile allowed the Hebrews to explore and embrace God’s new way, our time of pandemic gives us the same opportunity. 

This pandemic, like the Hebrews’ time of exile, is a terrible thing. I wish we didn’t have it. I wish we had leaders who are more capable of dealing with it. 

But it does allow us to take a good long look at what God is doing in our midst; and what God is calling us to do and to be. It allows us to glimpse a new way - God’s new way - of embracing justice and building a church that affirms the dignity and worth of all people; a church that truly is a movement for wholeness in a fragmented world.

Prayer

Oh God, your people had to wait a long time to return to the city and the sanctuary where they could worship together, and we, too, are stuck waiting for the time when we can return to the sanctuary we know, the sanctuary where so many memories come alive. But we wait, because we’ve been told to. And we wait, because of the love we have for one another and for all our neighbors, and our call to care for them, to do what we can to ensure that all people are safe and well.

It’s not easy, Lord. At times we are impatient. At other times, depressed. We have so much to mourn and grieve. So much has been taken from us. 

We confess that, at times, it has made us selfish. We have focused on our own situation more than the situation of others, including some who have experienced true tragedy in these past months. We confess that, at times, our hearts have become hardened, and we have closed ourselves off from the needs of those around us, and the needs of your church.

So remind us again, Lord, of your vision - your vision of a beloved community, a kingdom of God on earth, where there is welcome and affirmation and peace and justice for all. 

Be with those who are denied justice. Be with those whose rights have been taken away from them. Be with those who mourn, and be with those in need of healing.

For those who continue to reach out to us, sharing joy and gratitude and love, we give thanks. So many little acts of kindness really do make the difference in our lives these days. And for all those speaking out against injustice, and marching in the streets, and praying in their homes, we give you thanks. Such actions are helping bring your new vision to reality. And for all those who continue to support your church in whatever way they can, we give you thanks. May the work we do here and in our community be a part of that vision fulfillment, as we work with your Spirit to make your kingdom come on earth. Amen.