Fasting for Justice

Isaiah 58:1-12
February 4, 2023
William G. Carter

Shout out, do not hold back! Lift up your voice like a trumpet! Announce to my people their rebellion, to the house of Jacob their sins. Yet day after day they seek me and delight to know my ways, as if they were a nation that practiced righteousness and did not forsake the ordinance of their God; they ask of me righteous judgments, they delight to draw near to God.

"Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?" Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day, and oppress all your workers. Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to strike with a wicked fist. Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high.

Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself? Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush, and to lie in sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the LORD? Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am.

If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday. The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail. Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.

 

Picture a little chapel in a summer community, set among the pine trees. Inside, a small community of the faithful gathers on Sunday morning. Not a lot of neckties nor fancy dresses, at least not anymore. In fact, a few of God’s people wear sandals. One man brought a tennis racquet and put it on the pew beside him. The building is simple but beautiful. On a small table, there’s a vase full of cut flowers. It’s a comfortable place for worship. Even though there aren’t any cushions on the pews, it’s very comfortable.

One woman was overheard to say to a friend who visited for the weekend, “I love to come here. It’s how I get away from the world.”

I’m sure she means well by it. All of us want a respite from the noise, the commotion, and the conflict. For an hour a week, we can step away from it all. The demanding boss, the troublesome relationships, the kids who don’t keep in touch, the struggles of heart and mind – just take a break. Go to church.  

Reminded me of the invitation that another congregation posted on a bulletin board by the corner: “Don’t let worry kill you. Let the church help.” Gave me a chuckle, but I know what they were trying to say. Let’s get away from the world.

There’s only one problem with that, and Isaiah names it clearly. The church can’t get away from the world because the church exists in the world. The world is our home, the only home we have. The church sits in our home. We exist in a neighborhood.

In this section of Isaiah’s writings, the people of God are coming out of exile. Well, a lot of them were. Not everybody. Some stayed behind in Babylon. Others lost their faith over the destruction of their temple and never came back. Quite a few had forgotten to make room for God in their lives, or by attrition, their children had forgotten. Yet some of the people of God have returned home to the old Promised Land.

And how might they live out a Temple-based religion if they no longer have a Temple? Well, they still have the commandments of God. Moses gave them the commandments, long before there even was a temple. They can live by the commandments.

And they have the scriptures. Not all of them, but a good bit. The Bible wouldn’t be finished for another seven hundred years, and some of the books were still being written. But they had some of the early writings, like Exodus or Leviticus or Deuteronomy – and they offer guidance on living out God’s commandments. So they do have some instruction, and some old stories to guide them for a new day.

And they also have the spiritual disciplines. They can keep Sabbath. They can reflect on the scriptures. They can pray together. And they can fast – you know what fasting is? If you’ve ever had a blood test, you know: you give up food to prepare yourself. And that practice originates with religious fasting: you give up food to pray and get God’s attention. That’s fasting as a spiritual practice.

Yet here’s the problem. They reflect on scripture, keep Sabbath, pray, and fast. We can presume they are gathering for worship – but God’s not paying any attention to them. It feels like God is far off. Distant. Silent. Life is still disordered. All those spiritual things just aren’t working!

I must compliment them on trying. Sometimes people say to me, “If there is a God, I don’t feel it. I can’t sense his presence. What should I do? Is there something I can do?” And I’ll say, “Have you tried reading the Bible? Or being still for 24 hours? Or praying? Or fasting?” (One honest man said, “Why would I do any of that?”)

The crisis for Isaiah’s bunch is precisely that they are undertaking the spiritual work – but it’s not working. The prophet quotes what he overhears. “Hey God, we are humbling ourselves down here and you’re not looking!”

To which God, through the prophet responds, “Your problem is self-indulgence. You are serving only your own interests.” Then he singles out fasting and names the issue: when you fast, you are giving up food while some people around you are going hungry. You are fasting while they are starving.” What kind of religion is that? Good question. It is a question that comes up again and again once the rest of the scripture gets written down.

If we might return ever so gently to that sweet soul who sits in the chapel to say, “I love to get away from the world.” Isaiah would say ever so directly, “Lady, you are practicing a fake religion. You are participating in a breach between heaven and earth, which begins in the breach between neighbor and neighbor.” We can’t get away from the world. It’s our home. It’s our neighbors’ home.

If we had time today, we could work through all the Bible texts about loving your neighbor. It would take a while. We might get done in time for next week’s Super Bowl. Or if we had time, I could give you my movie review of “A Man Called Otto,” a film that only adults should see, but a heavenly reflection on what it takes to rebuild a neighborhood. Here’s the quick answer if you don’t want to spend nine bucks for a ticket: take care of your neighbors.

We have enough to chew on from the prophet Isaiah, especially when he talks about fasting. What kind of fasting does God want? Among his answers are these three: share your bread with the hungry, bring the homeless poor into your house, and provide clothing for those who have no clothing. Those are the big three. Food, shelter, and clothing.

If you’re awake, you’ll notice our church takes all three seriously. Last month, somebody told us that the shelters don’t provide some meals on the weekends, so we set up an assembly line during coffee hour to make ham and cheese sandwiches. Let’s do it again. Folks are bringing clothing to share with those who need it. Can you imagine sleeping outside in negative-four degrees? And bring the homeless into shelter.

That line still makes me flinch. It reminds me of one of my many moral failings. In my first church, the sexton found a homeless couple sleeping in the church’s courtyard. He rustled them awake and said, “Let’s go see the pastor.” I think he wanted me to shew them away. He knocked on my back door, told me he found them, and then he skedaddled away.

I said, “What’s going on?” The young pregnant woman said, “We don’t have anything to eat.” So I went inside, pulled two boxes of Kraft macaroni and cheese out of the cupboard, and said, “Could you use this?” She looked at me. He looked at me. They both broke into laughter. I said, “What’s so funny? She said, “Are you crazy? We’re homeless. How are we going to cook macaroni and cheese?” They turned and walked away.

Ugh. How stupid I am. What was I thinking? Was I thinking that, maybe, if I give them this box of unprepared food, they will go away, and I will have fixed the problem of homelessness in my town? “Here, take this box of uncooked elbow noodles with the little foil packet of fake cheese powder. That will solve all your problems and get you off my porch.”

It had not occurred to me, privileged, employed, with a roof over my head, blankets on my bed, to invite them in, make a pot of coffee, cook up those noodles, and sit down alongside to ask, “Tell me about your life.”

You know, Isaiah may have been writing twenty-six hundred years ago, but he has just told us how to solve the problem of homelessness. Did you hear what he said? “Bring the homeless poor” - not merely to a shelter - “bring them into your own house.” Wow. Imagine that. Who here wants to be that holy? Anybody want to go first? 

In a minute we baptize a beautiful young girl named Eloise. We promise not only to get her wet but to teach her the faith. Who’s going to tell our children what God teaches all of us in the Bible? Who’s going to declare the two fundamental commandments of heaven, to love God and love neighbor? Who’s going to tell the truth, that if we say, “I love God” but neglect the brother or sister we can see, we cannot love the God we cannot see (1 John 4:20).

God calls us to keep repairing the breach. That is, to mend our broken relationships with those in need. This is how God’s people live in the real world. This is how we rebuild the neighborhood. This is how worship becomes holy.   

For the prophet Isaiah gives his promise: “Do these things, and your light shall break forth like the dawn. Your healing shall spring up quickly. Your vindicator shall go before you. The glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer; you shall cry for help, and God will say, Here I am.”

 

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.