The Overwhelming Call

A good king is hard to find. As you read the Hebrew Scriptures, the stories of those who ruled Israel usually end on a downbeat note. Saul, the first king, falls upon his sword literally as his reign crumbles to an end. The less kind might say that this pattern will repeat itself, king after king. There will be variations, but always this theme of maligned monarchy serving as a subtext. Even David, the beloved king of Sunday school lessons long ago, is a more complex figure when one reads the text with eyes wide open.

Earlier this year, a short-lived television show called “Kings” took up biblical narrative, particularly the decline of Saul, and the rise of David and recast the story in modern times. Like many good shows, the network did not like the ratings, even though the critics loved it. As I tuned in (thanks to Kerry’s promptings) each week, I became enthralled with how well the narratives speak to modern day. If the show lasted a few seasons, you would have seen David, the earnest “local boy makes good”, become the jaded politico just like “King Silas”, played to malevolent perfection by British actor Ian McShane.

As the text opens, Uzziah, the long-reigning king of Israel, has died. Uzziah offered much to the prosperity and wellbeing of the people, yet he falters toward the end. Uzziah’s reign ends with an uncanny pattern of royal arrogance repeating yet again and his demise decidedly downbeat. He enters the holiest part of the Temple and usurps a role played by the priest.

A king playing priest does not sound like much of political transgression to our American ears, shaped by rulers embroiled in Watergate and all the “-gates” that followed since and surely yet to come. Afflicted by leprosy, Uzziah spent the rest of his reign weakened, needing assistance in ruling the kingdom. Again, a good king is indeed hard to find.

At the end of Uzziah’s reign, a prophet named Isaiah began to be the “bee” in the royal bonnet, decrying the kingdom’s ways. By now, the kingdom was showing signs of wearing thin. The peace and prosperity seemed on the wane, and the nation was becoming a paler shadow of its former glory. Isaiah became the unpopular voice, saying a word few wanted to hear. In other words, Isaiah, like Uzziah, is a perennial character, never “out of season” or behind the times.

As the text opens, Isaiah becomes prophet around the time when King Uzziah dies. Sometime in that pivotal year as one long reign gives way to the sudden and new moment in national life, Isaiah is caught up in a vision, one that brings him into the very presence of God with the seraphim singing and the foundations quaking, and “sensory overload” just begins to describe the scene.

I cannot help but wonder if there is a tweaking of the reader going on here. Uzziah, the one who barreled blithely into the holy temple, thinking himself beyond reproach or limitation, has died. The loyal opposition in the form of Isaiah, lone voice out in the midst of the cacophony, is the one suddenly in the presence of God. God yet again trumps the arrogant king whose royal ways are beyond scrutiny or prediction. The prophet is the only one smart enough to realize that holiness is unable to be domesticated. Uzziah treated the temple as one more thing he could dominate. Isaiah finds himself enraptured into the divine presence and understands immediately that no one, even himself, is worthy to be in the holy presence. Frankly, such humility would have escaped Uzziah.

Biblical scholars call this moment a “theophany”, meaning “an appearance of God”. Thanks to Cecil B. DeMille’s Ten Commandments film, our cultural memory recalls the grand appearance of the burning bush while Charleton Heston stands there in his bathrobe. (The lesson to learn: when you come across an inexplicable case of foliage on fire, take off your shoes. It might be holy ground!) The Bible speaks of God being known in the world through small and grand ways alike, however, when you hear of a text being called a “theophany”, sit up straight in your pews, and put on a safety helmet. It is a major moment, one given to grand spectacle.

In times like these, God intends to shake the foundations of Israel’s world. The divine chorus sings praise tirelessly in God’s holy name, and God’s glory shines in ways that overwhelm the senses. In the year King Uzziah died, the nation did not know what they would do as one kingly power faded and another one arose. A sinking feeling pervades: things were on the cusp of unraveling. The ancient world of the Bible starts to sound not so “ancient”….

As Isaiah stands in the midst of the divine worship, the prophet is summoned to speak a word on behalf of God. Isaiah is called by God, yet Isaiah declares himself unfit. It is a humble word from one who makes headlines sneering at “the powers that be” in the royal courts of Uzziah and his successor. God notes this cry of humility with a response of purifying the prophet’s mouth: a glowing hot coal placed in his mouth. (One admittedly has flashbacks to childhood of a mother making good with her threat with bar of soap in hand. For the record, Mother Hugenot used “Lava Soap”, the same stuff my dad used to get his oily hands clean. You know you were squeaky clean once the Lava Soap sat in your mouth for a few seconds. I’m thankful she did not bring the soap to my ordination service….) I have heard many times the exchange between God and prophet quoted when talking of calling people to ministry: “Here I am! Send me!” Sometimes, modern day folk will take on the exuberance of saying, “Here I am! Send me!” to God, not realizing the scope of what it means. The vocation of prophet is bold yet costly.

God asks Isaiah to bear words that will predict the future: the collapse of the nation and the people failing prey to peril. God has chosen to send the purified prophet to speak to the impure people. The catch, however, is just like that of the prophet Jonah: God calls a prophet to share unpopular words that even the prophet will struggle to bear. Isaiah’s call to be the prophet will be one that knows no great honor or great achievement. Going before a country ruled by ones like Uzziah, Isaiah will have the hard task of declaring the failure of the kingdom and the myths of unbridled prosperity and stability it depended upon. As far as callings go, this one is not one that religious folk innately aspire to seek out. The trappings of popularity and power will not be Isaiah’s to claim. Indeed, as Jesus said centuries later, in another time when Israel was ruled by the myths of power called Herod, the Temple Elite, and the Roman Empire, a prophet will be without honor among his own.

Recall this past week as we welcomed our General Secretary to the pulpit. Dr. Medley shared story after story of our Baptist forebears who spoke out and lived out a contrary witness, even at the defiance of royal, national, and even religious power. Dr. Medley recalled Thomas Helwys, an early Baptist, whose writings regularly challenged King James, aka “the” King James” of the Bible translation associated with his name. We learned of Joanna P. Moore, a 19^th-century woman who could not receive any support to go out among recently freed African Americans in the South’s post-Civil War era. What did she hear? The official group said no, so she found another way to move forward. Now we consider Moore a brave woman and a prophet in a needed time. Then, however, even her own people dismissed her vision for mission.

Thus, it takes courage to be God’s prophet. It takes courage to offer a contrary word to a people entrenched in their ways. Undoubtedly, Isaiah suffered in his call, yet as the kingdom approached its fall, he remained the resolute witness, the one able to speak truth even as the nation and its rulers clung to falsehood.

I recall the words of biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann who expands on our definition of a “theophany” as “an appearance of God”. Brueggemann calls theophanies: “an encounter [with God] in the life of a person or community whereby the future is radically and abruptly defined” (Reverberations of Faith, Westminster/John Knox, 215). Indeed, the foundations of Isaiah’s world shake, called to a prophetic task so far removed from what is acceptable or commendable. Trace the story of Isaiah’s prophetic ministry, and you will see that great tumult waits. You will also see that, even though the days are long away, what God tears down will be someday likewise replaced with new growth. The same God who calls Isaiah to condemn the people will be the one who shall also say, “Comfort, o comfort, my people” when the time is right.

We may never experience anything remotely in the neighborhood of a theophany ourselves. In hearing this story, however, can we ponder the sort of faith the story holds for us? The call to live a contrary witness is for all believers. We live in times not far removed from those of the Bible, in the sense of living in nations and ruled by rulers often more transfixed by their own power than their own good. A prophet may never have the same ecstatic moment described by Isaiah. Nonetheless, in the midst of decrying the broken nature of the world, in the midst of casting doubt over the policies that empower some and disenfranchise others, in the midst of reminding the rulers that they are not the final word, we experience a small glimmering of God’s glory being made known to the world.