Offered in worship: a reflection
on the words of Second Isaiah (40:1-11)
It’s a word, it’s an ache, it’s a hope, it’s awake
In
me, it’s alive in me, it’s a part of me.
Comfort—my
people.
Comfort—my
people.
And I know the word sounds a little absurd,
Because
the hurt’s so huge
And
the light’s not bright
That
shines in the night.
But
it’s a word, it’s an ache, it’s a hope,
It’s
awake in me, it’s alive in me,
It’s
a part of me.
Comfort—my
people.
Comfort—my
people.
The
word in me is a word I see
In
the eyes of old men who’ve forgotten their names,
In
the eyes of old women still fanning the flames
Of
peace and justice, and love and kindness.
It’s
hidden sometimes in a stranger’s strange face,
Behind
his tears, beneath her fears,
But
it’s there just the same, this amazing odd grace.
Comfort—my
people.
Comfort—my
people.
Such
a fragile word in such a fragile world,
But
I see it, read it, feel it, hear it
In
the shuffling feet of prisoners
Marching
off to their own hard time,
In
the soaring songs of dreamers
Leaving limits and bitterness behind.
Leaving limits and bitterness behind.
In
the choir that finds sweet harmony
Moving
and grooving in diversity,
In
the soaking rain on the dried out plain:
Comfort—my
people.
Comfort—my
people.
It’s
a sweet word. It’s a hard word.
It’s
a tender, loving, God word.
So
I try to articulate, but it’s hard to enunciate.
What
do you do when a word finds you?
In
a world so blue, and so tense,
And
on edge everywhere, in every sense
Raw
and cynical and sad and skeptical.
What
do you do when a word finds you?
Do
you hold it close, do you turn it over?
Do
you push it away for another day?
Maybe
it’s doubt you feel,
And
you wonder if it’s real, if it’s true,
If
it’s yours, if it’s you.
Comfort—my
people.
Comfort—my
people.
I’ll
simply suggest that you say it out loud
To
yourself, to a friend, to the trees, to the wind.
And
when you do, when you say it,
When
you sing it and pray it,
Comfort’s
the seed that grows in the dark,
In
the holy land of your spirit, your heart.
And
other words push up through the ground,
Imagine
the colors, imagine the sound
Of
tenderness. And compassion.
And
generosity. And communion.
There’s no doubt it’s a scary choice
There’s no doubt it’s a scary choice
To
trust this word, to lift your voice
When
the powers that be are dismissive
And
grace is out of season and there’s every reason
To
think it’ll always be this way,
Because
it’s always been this way.
And
I know this is true because I feel it here too,
But
here’s what I’ll do, I’ll say it with you.
Comfort—my
people.
Comfort—my
people.
I
need more courage for this kind of speaking
Brothers
and sisters, solidarity seeking
Hope
and strength in words we love,
And
holy chutzpah from God above.
Like a shepherdess, she gathers her flock,
She
sweeps up her lambs,
She
walks every city block.
Until
all of us are home at last,
Every
one of us held fast in the arms of love.
Then
she spreads a fine table
For
every lost soul.
And
that’s when we know what it
Means
to be whole.
And
so we say, with her,
With
the shepherdess:
Comfort—my
people.
Comfort—my
people.
And
we say it to the exiled.
And
we say it to the exhausted.
We
look in the mirror
And
we say it to the lost soul in our own eyes.
And
we say it to the young one
Who’s just getting started
And we say it to the grieving
Who’s just getting started
And we say it to the grieving
Whose
friends have departed
This world, for another, for grace,
For some kind of holy place
We can only imagine.
Comfort—my people.
Comfort—my people.
This world, for another, for grace,
For some kind of holy place
We can only imagine.
Comfort—my people.
Comfort—my people.
See
how God works?
How
her words open hearts?
See
how the tiniest hope like a spark
Can
light up the sky like an asteroid shower,
Can
bring us new life and surprising new power?
Because
the shepherdess is gathering sheep,
Because
the love of God is unimaginably deep.
It’s
a word, it’s an ache, it’s a hope, it’s awake
In
you, it’s alive in you, it’s a part of you.
And
sure there are mountains
And
they get in the way.
And
yes there are valleys
And
we often lose our way.
Sometimes
the mountains are terribly steep
And
oh those valleys, they make us weep
For
the harsh, sad world that breaks us, so often.
But
now here’s a word
And
it comes shining through.
The
storm’s passing over for me and for you.
Because
God’s love never tires,
God’s
love never wavers,
And
God’s grace conspires
To
heal us and save us
From
the cynical and skeptical,
From
the dismal and abysmal,
From
mountains so high
And
the valleys so low.
The
shepherdess wants every little lamb
To
know
That
kindness is the way of God,
Compassion’s
in God’s heart.
So
say the word and feel the word,
It’s
time to play your part.
It’s
time for your wild soul to soar,
For
the light in you to shine on through.
It’s
time to recognize the amazing gifts
That
the Shepherdess God has given to you.
Comfort—my
people.
Comfort—my people.
Comfort—my people.
The
word today is comfort,
The
word today is grace,
The
word today’s compassion,
And
it’s written in your face
Like
the poetry of prophets,
Like
holy scripture, sacred song.
Go
ahead and say it, play it, sing it,
It’s
been yours all along
AMEN.
