Thou Shalt Not Be Overcome

Isaiah 50:4-9

The Lord God has given me
   the tongue of a teacher,
that I may know how to sustain
   the weary with a word.
Morning by morning he wakens—
   wakens my ear
   to listen as those who are taught.
The Lord God has opened my ear,
   and I was not rebellious,
   I did not turn backwards.
I gave my back to those who struck me,
   and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard;
I did not hide my face
   from insult and spitting.

The Lord God helps me;
   therefore I have not been disgraced;
therefore I have set my face like flint,
   and I know that I shall not be put to shame;
   he who vindicates me is near.
Who will contend with me?
   Let us stand up together.
Who are my adversaries?
   Let them confront me.
It is the Lord God who helps me;
   who will declare me guilty?
All of them will wear out like a garment;
   the moth will eat them up.

When I first started taking notes, prepping and researching for this sermon, I worked for several hours before realizing that I had actually been working on the wrong passage. I started out working on Isaiah 40, not Isaiah 50. And as I was working on it, I noticed how familiar it felt, and I realized it’s because I had preached on it less than a year ago for the first Sunday of Advent. For a while, I was super frustrated with myself—it felt like I had wasted a bunch of time, and now I was going to have to start all over—but, not so shockingly, my little error ended up being a blessing in disguise. It helped me recognize what seems to be a recurring theme in Isaiah, that, on the surface, seems a little dark or harsh, but is ultimately quite hopeful.

In the passage for today that our youth so beautifully read, the end talks of the oppressors of Isaiah’s people, those who are occupying their land—and there’s this pretty dark language here: “All of them will wear out like a garment; / the moth will eat them up.” But it brought to mind what I had read when I briefly thought I was preaching on Isaiah 40—in both instances in these Isaiah passages, Isaiah trying to give his people some hope in a brighter future. And so he says to them, “…people are grass, / their constancy is like the flower of the field. / The grass withers, the flower fades, / when the breath of the Lord blows upon it; / surely the people are grass. / The grass withers, the flower fades; / but the word of our God will stand for ever.”

In both these moments, Isaiah’s people are living in a time of occupation. They’re getting impatient, depressed, and discouraged. Isaiah is letting them know that this is all temporary—that the actions of their occupiers, their oppressors, cannot last forever. God’s love, God’s word, and God’s promise—these are forever.

Over the Summer, I preached on the books of first a second Samuel, which covered the rise of King David, and then briefly the rise of David’s good and wise son, King Solomon. That was give or take, a couple hundred years before this time when Isaiah is preaching and prophesying—but surely many still understand what they’d lost since that time. You see, in the times of David and Solomon, the Jewish people had made it! They were living righteously back in their homeland in what was then the United Kingdom of Israel. It was everything God had promised them. Just a couple weeks back, I preached on the culmination of all of it, which was Solomon’s dedication of the temple, a time of great joy and celebration.

But now, 200 or so years after all that, times have changed. Israel is no longer united, and the Israelites are living in another exile. And surely stories and histories have been passed down throughout generations, of the good times that under David and Solomon that have been squandered. Surely the people Isaiah is preaching to are wondering when or if they will get back there. And surely they’re wondering how they could have fallen so far.

Now, as usual, I’m not going to get into the nitty gritty socioeconomic, political, and policy mishaps that went on in the years after King Solomon’s death, but ultimately, human nature took over, and the people were only really looking out for themselves—the kingdom was divided, and therefore weakened, and had, at this point, been under occupation for generations. Isaiah is preaching to a discouraged and beaten down people; a people who may be losing hope; a people who may be giving up.

I wish this wasn’t so relatable. I wish we weren’t living in a time in which it seems like it’s always one step forward, two steps back; I wish we weren’t living in a time in which it’s crisis after crisis, in which those in power don’t seem to care about those who are struggling. I wish we weren’t living in a time in which divisions among us are being exploited to benefit those who already have unimaginable amounts of power and wealth—but here we are.

It’s so, so easy to want to give into the stoking of divisions, isn’t it? Especially when we have the internet at our disposal—a place where we can hide our faces, hide our identities if we want to and try to bully people into thinking our way, or shame one another. I’m imagining those Isaiah is preaching to in this passage at a breaking point, an angry people ready to fight back, though it’s implied that would do little good. No, instead, Isaiah suggests that they, essentially, turn the other cheek, knowing that they have the promise of God’s love on their side, though that love is  difficult to feel in times like this. There’s always that question—if God loves us so much, then why is this happening? If God loves us so much, then why were Isaiah’s people living in captivity? If God loves us so much, then why does the Delta variant continue is rampage across this world?

There was a quote, a prayer of sorts, that came to my attention this past week that really helped me when I was thinking of that eternal question. It’s from the fourteenth-century mystic and theologian Julian of Norwich: “God said not ‘Thou shalt not be tempested, thou shalt not be travailed, thou shalt not be dis-eased’; but God said, ‘Thou shalt not be overcome.’” I think, Church, that this was the point that Isaiah was trying to get his people to understand; that we are going to face hardships, that the bad guys will try to bully us into submission; but that we must know, with our faith in God and with our faith in what is right, we’ll ultimately prevail.

I imagine that after years and years of subjugation, the Jewish people needed to hear this. They needed to know that this is all temporary, that they are living in a really scary and difficult time, but that they shouldn’t give up, that they can’t give up, because ultimately, they will not be overcome; that future generations will not be overcome. And I don’t know about you all church, but I need to hear this right now. I, like so many, was absolutely appalled and horrified when that new Texas heartbeat law SB8 was allowed to stand. My heart aches for those terrified women in Texas who are left with no choice; for those who feel they are living in a land occupied and run by those who does not take them into consideration; for those who have had so much power and agency taken from them, and given to vigilantes, happy to turn against their neighbor, looking for profit off of women’s trauma—more division, anger and fear being exploited to benefit the powerful few.

And as this pandemic drags on, I imagine many of us feel we’re living in a world occupied by those who just don’t seem to care about their neighbors or the most vulnerable among us—all over this country, including in this state, we have people protesting the easiest and most minor public health recommendations—mask wearing, vaccinations—all in the name of what? Individuality? Personal freedoms? It’s so discouraging when we’re confident that we’re doing everything right for the good of those around us, and so many just don’t seem to care; or that so many are misguided and misinformed, stooping so low to bullying and name-calling. It can make us a little resentful. It can make us frustrated and callous. And when we become resentful and frustrated, it can lead to numbness, to apathy, to anger, maybe even to revenge and violence if we really hit a tipping point.

But similar to what Jesus would encourage later, Isaiah tells us to “turn [our] cheeks to those who pulled out the beard.” This radical act of nonviolence, of not physically fighting back might actually seem like numbness or apathy, right? But it’s not. Because turning the other cheek doesn’t mean giving up or being a doormat. It means standing strong and standing above that violence and continuing to do what we know is right, despite what insults may be hurled our way. It means not giving up or giving in to bullying by bullying back; it takes great strength to stand in the face of humiliation and not give into your oppressors, knowing that you have God’s love on your side; and knowing that by valuing love and peace and kindness above all else, that you are on the right side of history. And when we feel this strength of God’s love, we can join together in this love, and be more powerful than ever.

Because Church, part of the reason Isaiah’s people were living in exile was that they were divided and therefore weakened. Isaiah is very aware of this, so he encourages his people, “Who will contend with me? / Let us stand up together. / Who are my adversaries? / Let them confront me.” Let us stand up together. Isaiah knows the power of God, but he also knows the power of unity, of togetherness. He knows that it was divisions that brought the kingdom of Israel to its knees. He knows that together, with the confidence that they are on the right side of history, and with faith in God’s love and God’s promise, that they will prevail.

Even in a country as supposedly free as this one, it can feel sometimes that we are occupied by those who not only don’t care about us but are actively fighting against us—fighting against those who stand for everything Isaiah stood for, everything Jesus would stand for—equity, equality, peace, and kindness.

And so on this Welcome Sunday—on this first Fall Sunday back in the sanctuary during this time which continues to be filled with uncertainty, I want to thank all of you for doing your part simply by wearing masks. I want to thank all of you for doing your part out in the world by being the kind and loving people you are. It lets me know that we will not be overcome. It lets me know that no matter how much those in power and those with the loudest voices and the biggest platforms try to exploit our fears, try to feed us misinformation to divide us further, try to provoke us with negativity, with insults, with humiliation—that we shall not be overcome.

So whenever we feel like giving up, whenever we feel like we can’t stand our ground any longer, whenever we feel like these unprecedented times of crisis will last forever, just remember—those people— the oppressors are like grass. They will fade. Those who would bully us, who would “declare us guilty”—their ideals, their values will wear out like a garment, and the moth will eat them, up. So there will be tough times ahead, and we might be tempested, we might be travailed, we might become sick along the way to making this earth as it is in heaven; but we shall not be overcome. Because God’s unconditional love is forever. Amen.