Isaiah 7-8: Calm Down, Trust Yourself, and Act with Integrity

Recalling the historical narrative of Judah from 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles, Ahaz was king of Judah when Israel and Aram joined forces and set out to conquer Jerusalem. Isaiah acted as adviser to Ahaz during this time, offering him reassurance, encouraging him to stand firm, and illustrating his advice with the imminent birth of a son to the young wife of Ahaz. This use of children as images of hope is augmented by Isaiah's two children in this passage as well.

Like the symbolic names of Hosea's children, which proclaimed judgment on an unjust and unfaithful society, Isaiah names his children "A remnant shall return" and "The spoil speeds, the prey hastens." The name of the first son is in reference to Isaiah's confidence that the people of Judah will not be utterly destroyed, and the name of the second son is an indication that Judah's enemies will be utterly destroyed. Although Ahaz names his child Hezekiah, while Ahaz's wife is still pregnant, Isaiah refers to the child by the symbolic name "God is with us," which may indicate that this portion of Isaiah was written after the conflict with Israel and Aram was resolved and after it was clear what kind of leader Hezekiah would be.

Christians have appropriated this name, "Immanu-el," and this word of reassurance by Isaiah to Ahaz, as a reference to Jesus, but this makes little sense. Isaiah is obviously offering some near-future hope for Ahaz, indicating that the immediate enemies of Judah would be no threat at all by the time a child about to be born was eating solid food. As it happens, Hezekiah was a young boy when Israel fell to Assyria, and his leadership as king was a time of hope for Judah, as he ushered in a wave of internal religious and political reforms. As we shall see, Isaiah was an adviser to Hezekiah, too. In a case of the apple falling not far from the tree, both Ahaz and Hezekiah ignored Isaiah's advice; Ahaz voluntarily made Judah subject to Assyrian rule, and Hezekiah made a dangerous alliance with Egypt against Assyria.

There's no real need to go into whether El was really the same deity as Yahweh. There are plenty of other people making hypotheses about that sort of thing, and we can't really know for sure what the author of Isaiah was thinking. Our task here is to discover if there is something of value for us in this report of advice given to a king over 2500 years ago. Believers might claim the promise that their version of God is with them and has their best interest in mind if they only trust and wait (what Ahaz was instructed to do). This is somewhat flawed theology on a couple of levels. First, the words of Isaiah 8 are clearly to a particular individual about a particular situation, and to other people in different situations, different prophetic advice is given. Second, it's easy to overlook in our assertions that our supernatural will hear our prayers that other people may be praying for the exact opposite thing -- or at least something that is incompatible with what we're praying. Third, if the only point of human existence is to trust a supernatural and wait for everything to just be worked out for us, then we have no real purpose and human life is rather meaningless.

If we consider that there is no external deity orchestrating things on our behalf, but that whatever we call divinity is something within us -- something that is a human characteristic that all people have within them -- we can look at Isaiah's words a bit differently. It's true that circumstances do change, and it's true that patience often serves us better than reactivity. Isaiah's words might be taken here to mean that we should not become anxious at every apparent obstacle or threat in our lives, but that we should respond to our circumstances out of a deep connection with our innermost being. We should not work so hard to defend ourselves; we should instead confidently be ourselves. Rather than try to convince other people of our perspective, we might get more traction out of simply living out our deepest, most noble selves.

Permit me a personal story, if you will. I once worked for a company that had a number of anxious people. A systematic reinforcement of poor communication skills combined with a pervasive sense of entitlement and a lack of clear shared vision resulted in what was, for me, a toxic environment. I had some ideas about how to improve things, not only for my own preferences, but for the sake of everyone connected to the company. I also have an unusually high tolerance for change, and at the time, I did not appreciate or respect that few people share my eagerness to change things, even if it is for the better. The more aggressive I was in promoting a different way of doing things, the more aggressive the resistance became on the other side. In some ways, my situation was like that of Ahaz.

Had I been a little more patient, the situation may have turned out differently. Personnel changed, and people who were more interested in purposeful improvement assumed leadership positions. By then, though, I was long gone. Being more patient, however, would not have meant doing nothing. Developing and maintaining a deep connection with oneself is work. Listening compassionately to other people's anxiety can be work, too. Managing one's own anxiety and dismantling one's own fears is work. Being patient with a set of circumstances doesn't at all mean that no work is being done. In all honesty, in my own Ahaz situation, I had not done the work I needed to do within myself to support the kinds of actions I was suggesting.

It's easy to react to what we perceive as threats. We want to fight back, or defend ourselves, or just roll over and make the anxiety go away through passivity. When we feel threatened, it's important to be realistic about that anxiety. Sometimes, there is some action that we can take, and sometimes there isn't as much of a threat as we might think. Even if there is something we can do, though, it's important for us to act with integrity to who we most want to be in the world, rather than acting out of rabid defensiveness or overwhelming anxiety.

Isaiah was really suggesting three things to Ahaz, which I'm interpreting here into a non-religious context.

First, calm down. Whatever it is in your life that allows you to bring your own anxiety under control, be committed to doing that. If you don't know what brings your anxiety under control, be committed to discovering that. Knowing how to become less anxious (and actually doing it) is the most important thing you can do in your life, for your own well-being and for the well-being of everyone around you.

Second, trust yourself. Your deepest, most noble self is trustworthy. There may be lies that you have come to believe about yourself, other people, and reality, and there may be vows that you have made about what you must or must not do or be. Beneath those artificial protections, though, you are capable. You are trustworthy. You are enough. You are creative. You are beautiful. You are insightful. You have inherent worth and dignity. If you don't know and trust this about yourself, commit to discovering this truth about you. Develop a discipline of introspection. Engage in self-discovery activities. Work with a trusted friend or coach to learn how to be more connected to who you really are and what you really want. You cannot be who you most want to be in the world if you don't know who that is. This is important because you are important.

Third, act with integrity. I don't mean here "integrity" in the sense of keeping your word; sometimes promises need to be broken. I mean "integrity" in the sense that we say a bridge or a building has integrity. I mean allowing your words and actions to be congruent with your authentic self. Once you have managed your anxiety and honestly analyzed the threats, and once you have connected with yourself beyond the fears and lies we all carry around and recognized who you most want to be in the world, be that person. Act in accordance with who you are. This goes beyond horoscope-style adjectives; who you are engages the very things that nourish you, your passions, your convictions, your commitments, your dreams. Acting with integrity means creating the world we most want to live in.

That's what Isaiah was suggesting to Ahaz. It takes a bit of work. No wonder Ahaz had a hard time following through. It's possible, though. It's possible for you. Whether there are no apparent threats on your horizon, or whether you feel constantly under fire, you can calm down, trust yourself, and act with integrity to who you most want to be in the world. One big help is having people to journey with, people who embrace the same commitment in their own lives. We are bound to stumble a bit; we are bound to get anxious or act out of line with who we most want to be. When we journey together with others, it seems a lot easier to be graceful with ourselves and get back on track.

2 Chronicles 28: One Voice (a portrait of the prophet Oded)

As we've seen, 2 Kings 15 doesn't paint a flattering picture of the rulers of Israel and Judah in the 8th century BCE. They were self-absorbed, indulgent, murderous lot whose deeds were barely worthy of a paragraph from the historian. Already, there were signs during the reigns of Menahem and Pekah that the nations of Judah and Israel would be troubled by Assyria's ruler Tiglath-Pileser III (who is also called by the name Pul or Pulu). Tiglath-Pileser III claimed rulership of Assyria during a civil war, and in an effort to seem more authentic, he took his throne name from two previous Assyrian rulers who had come by the throne legitimately. His military reforms and expansionist ideals created an empire that included most of the nations known to the Assyrians at the time. One of his most successful policies in preventing further internal conflict was to force thousands of citizens to relocate to diverse parts of the empire, breaking up subcultural identities based on connections with a particular land.

Into this climate, King Ahaz ascended to the throne of Judah when his father Jotham died. 2 Kings 16 tells one version of his reign, which apparently began early on with participation in the various foreign religious practices that had become popular in Judah. High places, hills, and green trees were chosen as sites for worship and sacrifices because these places were thought to be favored by various gods. Ahaz is also said to have made his son "pass through fire," which is often interpreted as an act of child sacrifice. Based on current archeological evidence, the sacrifice of children was not nearly as prevalent as some biblical passages suggest, although some ancient writers did use the accusation of child sacrifice as propaganda to demonize enemy civilizations during times of war. It is known, however, that some societies committed child sacrifices in times of great duress, as an extraordinary means of appealing to their supernaturals for aid, and Ahaz certainly reigned during a time of great duress in Judah. It's important to understand a little something of Ahaz in order to understand some of the writings of the prophet Isaiah.

During the reign of Ahaz, Judah was attacked by Aram and Israel. The nation of Aram was really a collection of city-states, one of which was Damascus. King Rezin was obviously connected to Damascus, based on 2 Kings. Rezin joined forces with Pekah, the king of Israel to attack Judah; there is no indication as to their motivations, but in the end (according to 2 Kings) Rezin drove the Judeans out of Elath and reclaimed it. (Edom and Aram are probably synonymous in this passage.) In light of this offensive action, Ahaz sought military aid from Tiglath-Pileser III, bribing him with valuables from his own holdings as well as the temple treasury. The Assyrian emperor, seeing the potential for expanding the Assyrian empire, attacked Damascus, killed Rezin, and annexed a portion of Aram.

After seeing the altar in Damascus, Ahaz made some radical changes to the temple in Jerusalem, with the assistance of the priest Uriah. Perhaps he wanted to be more like Tiglath-Pileser III, even though he could not possibly match the Assyrian emperor's military and social ingenuity. The prophet Isaiah was an adviser to Ahaz during this entire crisis, so there will be more to unpack about this ruler. The Chronicler, however, interprets the relationship between Ahaz and Tiglath-Pileser somewhat differently in 2 Chronicles 28. Beginning with the quote from 2 Kings criticizing Ahaz for idolatry and child sacrifice, the Chronicler then goes on to describe just how severely the armies of Aram and Israel defeated Judah. Of course, the Chronicler interprets this defeat as a consequence of the king's idolatry, but we can be confident that there were political motivations for the action against Judah.

According to the Chronicler, there were multiple incursions into Judah by foreign armies who reclaimed and settled cities, whittling away at Judah's borders. When Ahaz turned to Tiglath-Pileser III for assistance in this interpretation of history, the Assyrian leader saw Judah's weakened position and took advantage of the situation, demanding tribute but providing no meaningful aid. Ahaz made what was a logical decision for a person in his time and culture; he started worshiping gods that had seemingly brought success to his enemies. It is a constant danger in cultures where the supernatural is legitimized that people will look ever more frantically for something outside of themselves to make life easier, better, and safer. The answer to making positive changes lies within a person's own behavior, however, and not with some invented god or supernatural force. Change comes when people are willing to take an honest look within themselves and act in a way that leads toward a desirable future.

Which brings us to Oded. This prophet is never mentioned again in the Bible, and perhaps his name (which means "Restorer") is more of a symbolic moniker than anything else. When the Israel army had soundly defeated Judah (with the aid of Rezin's forces), they claimed 200,000 Judeans as spoils of war. They intended to take these people as slaves, even though they shared a common heritage; of all the people in the world, these captives were most like the people of Israel. Oded spoke out in protest. He could not stand by and watch people taking their own kindred as prisoners of war; he understood the immorality of subjugating people who shared a deep bond of culture and history. Once Oded stood up, other leaders began to speak out in agreement. Who knows whether they would have said anything if Oded had remained silent, but once the truth was spoken, their own integrity won out over greed-fear and the thoughtless fervor of military victory. They clothed the captives, fed them, escorted them to a safe place, even using their own pack animals as necessary, and they set them free. 

It didn't matter that the Judeans had committed idolatry. It didn't matter that they had been militarily inferior. It didn't matter that they had been on the wrong side of the division of Israelite culture. They were human beings who were more similar to the people of Israel than they were different. They deserved to be treated with respect and dignity, even as conquered people. Oded saw this, and he spoke the truth boldly. The Israelite soldiers could have cut him down and silenced him; it would only have taken one man who didn't like what Oded had to say. This has happened on more than one occasion throughout human history. In this instance, though, for whatever reason, Oded's words had the power to invoke true justice.

Our world has captives. Our world has slaves, figurative and literal. Some people suffer because of war. Some people suffer because of oppressive systems. Some people suffer because of other people's fear. Some people are just stuck in a cycle of poverty or prejudice that they cannot break on their own. There is nothing that makes these people less worthy of respect and dignity than any other person. If we are honest, we must acknowledge that human beings are more alike than different. We like to be tribal; it's comfortable to draw lines of distinction. But we are not that different from one another. People -- all people -- have inherent worth and dignity, Israelite and Judean, male and female, slave and free, rich and poor, conservative and liberal, Muslim and Christian and Buddhist and Hindu and Wiccan and Atheist and ...

There was nothing that credentialed Oded to speak out except that he saw the truth and was willing to speak out on the side of justice, equity, and compassion. His words had nothing to do with what was legally permissible. His words had to do with integrity and human value. Oded would perhaps not have spoken out against claiming other peoples as prisoners of war. He was, after all, a product of his place and time. We have some advantage of perspective over Oded. We can aim higher in our own lives. We, too, can speak out with bold honesty against injustice, oppression, and fear. If we speak so that others can hear, perhaps our words will inspire others to take a stand as well. Moreover, we can take action in our lives to demonstrate what it means to have integrity, to be ethically astute in our treatment of other human beings. There is no reason that a modern day portrait of Oded should not look exactly like us.