Lent 3 (3/11/07) “Isaiah’s Gospel”

Isaiah 55.1-9

In our adult Bible class on Sunday mornings we have been slogging through the Old Testament book of Judges. When we began, several weeks ago, I advertised the class as one with “adult content”—and indeed it does have more than its share of sex and violence. I have to admit that there are some places in the book where I’ve just sort of thrown up my hands and thought, “How can I possibly draw any good and inspirational lessons from this?”

Of course that’s often a problem with the Old Testament. These writings are so far removed from modern life, so primitive in their viewpoint, often so difficult to understand; it’s no wonder that many Christians really prefer to stick pretty much with the New Testament, which seems, on the whole, much more user friendly for contemporary people.

And yet there are places in the Old Testament where the gracious gospel of salvation shines through with every bit as much splendor as any New Testament text, and we have one of those places here today in Isaiah: “Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters.” I would like to reflect on this wonderful passage this morning; nothing fancy, just a straightforward analysis of what this text says to us. Let’s do it by asking a series of questions.

First, to whom is it addressed? Well, we could talk about the historical context, the Israelites in exile; but we don’t need to be that scholarly. Let’s just read it: “Ho, everyone who thirsts... and you that have no money.” That’s who God is addressing here.

But “everyone who thirsts” doesn’t really mean a physical thirst. It is a spiritual thirst. The Bible uses that metaphor because we human beings, when we are terribly thirsty, understand what it means to need something desperately. Who hasn’t felt that overpowering need for a glass of cold water? Isaiah is saying that the gifts of God are offered to those who know their need of God. That need may be expressed in many different ways. Are you desperate for forgiveness? Do you feel a nagging need for love? Is there, in your heart, an emptiness that you can’t quite identify? Those are all signs of this spiritual thirst, and they can be satisfied only by Christ. And they all mean that Isaiah’s offer is addressed to you and to me.

The invitation is also addressed to “those who have no money.” Again, we cannot take this too literally. It isn’t talking about actual money, but about the sense of being unable to pay, the sense of having nothing. It is said that Martin Luther’s last words, as he lay dying, were these: “We are beggars, it is true!” The spiritual truth here is very simply that in order to hear this invitation, we must first acknowledge that we cannot pay. We are beggars; all we can do is receive the wonderful gift that God offers. “Nothing in my hand I bring,” a familiar hymn puts it. We have to admit that we cannot do anything to earn this great gift; we can only receive it as a gift. So again, Isaiah’s words, though they were written two and a half millennia ago, are addressed to you and to me.

But what is this gift? What is it that is being offered? Our text uses three images: water, wine, and milk. Again let’s take them one at a time.

By “water,” Isaiah is suggesting that the salvation offered here is refreshing, reviving, life-giving. You know that when you are incredibly thirsty, water sounds better than just about anything. It is the most basic necessity of life. It is absolutely essential to our health. Check any list of “simple things you can do to have better health,” and often you will read “drink plenty of water.” Water is essential to health.

Water also revives us. When someone feels faint, we say, “Would you like a glass of water?” So the image here is that God offers us the water of life, what we need to sustain life. Of course that is an image Jesus also uses when he talks about himself as the living water.

Then, Isaiah says, God offers wine. To people in Biblical times, wine represented the joy and gladness of life. For them often life was a rather dreary existence. They lived in an inhospitable climate, they had no modern conveniences or entertainment. Wine meant gladness. What is offered here is just that: a gladness that turns the everyday dreariness into joy and thanksgiving. That is what is God offers—not just existence, but gladness. It is like what happens in the movie The Wizard of Oz, when suddenly the black and white and bleak Kansas countryside turns into the Technicolor world of Oz. That’s the change of perception that God offers: a world in Technicolor.

Then, Isaiah says, the third thing God offers is milk. It may not be as basic as water, or as exotic as wine; but milk here represents nourishment. It is what a child needs to grow strong and healthy—and of course adults need it, too, or at least we need the vitamins and proteins that are contained in milk. That is what is offered here: not just existence, not just joy and gladness, but nourishment and growth.

If we do not accept this invitation, what is the alternative? It comes in the puzzled question of verse 2: “Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy?” Those who reject God’s invitation spend their lives looking for something which they never find. They are never satisfied.

In the Middle Eastern classic Arabian Nights, there is a wonderful parable about a man who had everything. He lived in a grand palace, and he was perfectly content. Then one day someone came along and said to him, “You know, the one thing you need to make this palace perfect is the egg of a roc. If you just had a roc’s egg hanging from the peak of the ceiling, this would be wonderful!” The roc, of course, is a mythical bird. The man in the parable didn’t know where to find a roc’s egg—and of course, such a thing did not exist to be found. From that moment on, he was unhappy and unsatisfied.

So many of us build our lives on a ceaseless quest for what cannot satisfy. We build houses, we build careers, we collect “stuff”—and nothing is ever enough. We always come up against what Ian Maclaren called “the stinging thought that it is not all complete yet, and we go groping, groping in the dark, to find out where the lacking thing it.” But it is no good; we can never find it.

What Isaiah suggests, you see, is that what we finally need, what will finally satisfy our longings, is only one thing: It is God. “Our hearts are restless,” wrote St. Augustine, “till they find their rest in Thee.” So if we do not accept this invitation, this gospel invitation, we are left searching for something we will never find.

My final question: What is required? How do we get this water, this wine, this milk? The answer is easy: Just come. How many times have you been invited to a dinner, and you ask the host or hostess, “What can I bring?” Often the answer is, “Don’t bring anything, just bring yourself.” You see, that’s how it is with this feast, this gospel feast. God has invited you to this banquet, and he asks you simply to come. You don’t need a ticket, you don’t need reservations, you don’t need anything. Just come!

This banquet, this meal, this feast, is one of the most pervasive images in the Scripture. We find it in Jesus’ parables, we find it in the prophets, we find it everywhere. It is no accident that we also find it in church, and perhaps you can recognize that symbolism. What do we receive when we come to the church, the community of Christ’s people? We find the water of baptism. We find the wine of Holy Communion. We find the nourishing milk of God’s Word. All are offered here by Christ, and they are offered to all, offered to you. Will you receive them?

Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters,

and you who have no money, come, buy wine and milk,

without money and without price.

Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread,

and your labor for that which does not satisfy?

Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good,

and delight yourselves in rich food.

Incline your ear, and come to me;

listen, so that you may live.