“Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned. . . .
“The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
“Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked straight, and the rough places plain:
“And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together: for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.” (Isaiah 40:1-5, King James Version)
These familiar texts begin last Sunday’s readings from the Hebrew Scriptures. Written at a time of exile, when the people of Israel had been deported to Babylon, they provided assurance of the love and care which God still had for them. As we endure exile in so many ways, they offer consolation, hope, and a call to action.
How are we in exile? We are isolated from one another, fearing infection of a life-threatening virus. We are facing systems of racial discrimination, oppression, bitter political division, difficult relationships, trauma, loneliness, anxiety, and more. A health concern can shake us to the core and hurl us into the wilderness, exiled from our own bodies. We wonder — is God really there?
Last Sunday, Bishop Anne offered guidance to help us find our way back to God. She began with humility: it’s not all about us; we are not in control. What a relief, to be reminded of that! She continued with hospitality: our Lord is already present, inviting us into the divine presence at the same time that we invite that presence into our lives. And that all gives us hope — as Isaiah promises the Babylonian exiles, and us, in that wonderful passage.
I have always loved that chapter of Isaiah. As a hospital chaplain, I often read portions of it to patients, easing their anxiety, as well as mine. The whole book of Isaiah contains many such passages, which have inspired others through the ages. One of these was Charles Jennens, an eighteenth-century aristocrat and friend of George Frideric Handel. In 1741 Jennens, a devout Christian, compiled a series of Biblical texts that told the story of our Lord — the promise, the life, death, and resurrection. He urged Handel to set them to music. The result is the masterwork that we love today — Handel’s Messiah.
Jennens drew on the King James Version of the Bible, along with the psalm settings in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer. Of the 81 Bible verses which make up the entire text of Messiah, 21 come from Isaiah. Whenever I read or hear any one of these familiar verses, I can’t help but hear Handel’s inspired music. For me, singing a text, or hearing it sung, communicates its message many times more forcefully that just reading it. So I draw comfort and hope from the opening movements of Messiah — settings of the first five verses of Isaiah 40.
As you hear this familiar music, listen for the sensitivity with which Handel treats Isaiah’s text. In “Every Valley,” for example, relish the exuberance with which the word “exalted” is set; the “crooked” melody that then becomes “straight;” and the unrestrained joy that emanates from the chorus “And the glory of the Lord.”
May you be comforted, supported, and most of all, welcome God into your hearts as you live this text and music. May we all heed Isaiah’s call to action: comfort ye my people. Advent blessings to all of you, dear friends.
David