In the years before King Uzziah
died, the Hebrew tribes were relatively prosperous and quite content. Though Yahweh/God had maintained from the
earliest days following their flight from Egypt and eventual relocation to the
Promised Land that a monarchy was not an appropriate form of governance for the
Israelites (due to the inevitable possibility that any king would sooner or
later figure that he deserved more and better worship than God did), this
particular king had done all right.
Uzziah had ascended to the throne when
he was a teenager and ruled for 52 years.
He was a mighty warrior and had led his people to a good many
victories. In the years of his reign, the
harvests were adequate. There had been
no famines to speak of, and families did not want for relative comfort.
Unfortunately, King Uzziah eventually
did cross the line with Yahweh/God and, as the story goes, God smote him with
leprosy, leaving the longtime ruler bereft of his nerve endings, wrapped in bandages,
and a pariah to boot until the day he died. However, because
everything centered around the king in those days, upon Uzziah’s death, there
might have been some sighs of relief, but a great and terrifying void also emerged.
In the year that King Uzziah died, it
was 739 BCE, and the Assyrian Empire was on the move. Westward ho!
In the year that King Uzziah died, a
serious military threat that would eventually lead to the downfall of the
Northern Kingdom, was beginning. Over
time, the capital city of Samaria would be destroyed. Dozens of other towns and villages would be
ransacked, looted, and burned to the ground. The less-than-fortunate segments
of the population would experience mass deportations, splitting families and
leaving terrified and innocent small children bereft of their parents.
In the year that King Uzziah died, the
Assyrians were on the brink of establishing an empire that would dominate the
ancient Near East for more than a hundred years.
And so, not surprisingly, in the year
that King Uzziah died, the people of Jerusalem were rightfully fearful. Their
monarchy was in tatters. A brutal enemy
was on their doorstep. The nation was
hopelessly divided once again. Whatever
would they do?
In the year that King Uzziah died, a
small potatoes temple priest saw God.
His name was Isaiah, and he had a vision. It was a sweeping and regal one. It was ever
so God-like.
In that vision, six-winged seraphim fluttered
and swarmed, their faces and feet covered, making them look all the more
mysterious. Yahweh/God figured into the
vision as well. In glorious and sacred
splendor, the Holy One was seated on a throne, the heavenly robes flowing
outward until their hem came to rest in the farthest reaches of the temple.
Oh, it was a holy holy, holy moment –
beyond the ultimate: Smoke clouding the
air, incense flooding Isaiah’s nostrils, the doorposts rattling as the seraphim
sang their thunderous songs of sacred praise.
Isaiah,
for his part, knew instantly that he was in way over his head. “Woe to me!” he cried. “I am
ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of
unclean lips – yet here I stand before the Holy One.”
“Not to worry! Unclean lips?
Not a problem!” chortled the seraphim, one of which flew over to the
priest who was by now cowering in the corner.
The seraph carried a red-hot coal and touched Isaiah’s lips with it,
burning away any sin that still lay, un-confessed, in his heart. Ouch!
It was a scene of magnificence, majesty, and awe! And yet, Episcopal priest Rick Morley noticed
this oddity about it: “With all the power and wonder that is conjured up
in this vision, the voice of the Lord calls out…wondering where He can get some
help.
I
find it disorienting (Morley comments) that the Lord here doesn’t just send.
He doesn’t just give commands. He asks for help. ”Who will go for me?” I read this, and the tone that I hear is that
of a plea. As if God expects no one to answer. As if (God) knows already that
the only sound in response that He’s likely to hear, is the sound of his own
echo.”
However, the silence surrounding God’s
question did not last through all eternity.
Perhaps to God’s surprise and most certainly to Isaiah’s, the young
priest piped up and answered, “Here I am.
Send me.”
We seldom read beyond this verse, you
know, and so this passage stands alone, emerging as one of the most famous
“call” stories in the entire Bible. After
all, it inspired
Dan Schutte to write the Catholic hit melody that we sang as our opening hymn
this morning (Here I Am, Lord).
Likewise, it has surely motivated boatloads of religious folk down
through the ages as they head off on mission trips and Habitat for Humanity
workdays.
However, if we
read on a few more verses, we find that Isaiah, as time went by, probably
wished he had not been quite so quick in responding. If he had only said, “You talkin’ to me?”
that would have bought him more time to better understand what he was getting
into. Or he might have taken a moment to
look behind him to see who else was around and then forthrightly declare – as
Moses (and most of the other prophets) before him had, “I think you’ve made a
mistake. I’m would be a terrible prophet
and mouthpiece for you, O Holy One.” Or he
might simply have said, “I have no time for
anything like that. Send someone else.”
However, Isaiah spoke perhaps before he
had really considered what he was volunteering for - and God took him at his
word, illustrating once again that one does not have to be perfect in order to
serve. Though the call that Isaiah
answered turned out to be quite difficult and demanding, in the end, it was
well worth the effort.
What I like about this story of Isaiah
stepping up to the plate and courageously proclaiming that God can send him
anywhere God wants is that it is incredibly inspiring. It brings me – and I know others – to tears
when we sing about Isaiah’s call as our Mission Team leaves each summer for
Maine Seacoast Mission in Cherryfield.
Here I am, Lord. Send me! Isaiah’s
response is galvanizing, causing us to shed our anxieties and really believe we
can do great things for God. Send
me! It motivates us to put mission and
outreach first – sometimes even before the building and property. Send me!
It even makes us want to nudge Isaiah aside and raise our hand
first. Here I am, Lord. Send me!
However, what I do not like about this
story of Isaiah stepping up to the plate and courageously proclaiming that God
can send him anywhere God wants is that, well, is that it is incredibly
inspiring. What I mean is, in calling us
to do great things for God, it makes us think that only great things are good
enough for God. Only saving the world –
or a serious attempt at it - ultimately makes the cut.
So – where does that leave most of
us? We who may feel too old, too tired,
too busy to change the world? Not in a
good place most of the time, I would assert: Leaving here each Sunday convinced
that the preacher really must have been talking to someone else.
And such attitudes are sad – and
destructive. They diminish an important
part of our humanity. You see, I believe
that each one of us has a creative calling that is unique. After all, God has blessed us, we who are
made in the image of Creativity itself!
Our calling may not seem like a great
thing, an earth-shattering thing, a calling that will save the world. However, maybe we are not called to always do
such great things. Maybe we are called
simply and intentionally to do some-thing.
I know many of you have heard the story
of the starfish. But it does not hurt to
be reminded of it every once in a while…..One day, an old man was walking
along a beach that was littered with thousands of starfish that had been washed
ashore by the high tide. As he walked he came upon a young boy who was eagerly
throwing the starfish back into the ocean, one by one.
Puzzled,
the man looked at the boy and asked what he was doing. Without looking up from
his task, the boy simply replied, “I’m saving these starfish, Sir”.
The
old man chuckled aloud, “Son, there are thousands of starfish and only one of
you. What difference can you make?”
The
boy picked up a starfish, gently tossed it into the water and turning to the
man, said, “I made a difference to that one!”
Each one of us has the capacity to be
creative and to be an agent for positive change. As Meister Eckhart wrote, “We need to
understand our creativity within a cosmic context in order to diffuse some of
it and to discipline all of it toward goals of compassion, justice, and
harmony. Creativity is the human giving birth as the whole cosmos does and as
God does. It is our godly power at work. ‘What does God do all day long? God
gives birth.’ (God creates.) (Likewise),
so does the universe, and so do its healthy citizens, among whom we humans can
and ought to be included.”
There you have it – another aspect of
Creation Spirituality, our worship theme this month. Each one of us has a creative calling. What is yours? What is – not so much the
great thing, but the some-thing – that God is calling you to do, that some-thing
that will positively impact someone beyond yourself?
Are you a relationship-builder? In this day of so much divisiveness and
polarization, the world could certainly benefit from having you around. Are you a laugh-maker? Lord knows: we could use you! Are you a comforting arm around the shoulder
healer? Are you a singer of songs, an active listener, a benevolent casserole
maker? Are you a bridge builder between
cultures or families? Are you a computer
problem-solver? Are you a food pantry worker? Are you a prayer-shawl
knitter?
What is your creative calling? What is – not so much the great thing, but
the some-thing – that God is calling you to do that will positively impact
someone beyond yourself? Even the
simplest things are often the most impactful.
What is your creative calling?
That is the question for us this morning.
In the year that King Uzziah died,
Isaiah had a vision that rocked his world.
Here I am. Send me. And that changed everything.
In nearly two years since Donald Trump was elected,
on this 15th day of July, you - maybe for the first time – articulated and affirmed
your own creative calling. You heard
God’s plea whispered down through the ages, through all eternity. “Whom shall I send – to knit, to heal, to
bring laughter, to sing, to write, to do some-thing?”
In nearly two years since Donald Trump was
elected, on this 15th day of July, you responded as Isaiah did
(take, o take me as I am), maybe not giving a whole lot of thought to what it
is you were volunteering for (summon out what I shall be), not sure if what you
were offering was what God wanted (set your seal upon my heart), but trusting
that your some-thing was enough (and live in me).
In the year that Donald Trump was elected, on
this 15th day of July, you declared, “Here I am, Lord. Send me.”
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