For the week of July 25, 2026 / 11 Av 5786
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V’etchannan/Nahamu
Torah: D’varim/Deuteronomy 3:23-7:11
Haftarah: Isaiah 40:1-26
Originally posted the week of July 28, 2018 / 16 Av 5778 (updated)
Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned, that she has received from the LORD’s hand double for all her sins. (Isaiah 40:1-2)
One cannot overstate the drama of Isaiah’s comfort call. The contrast of these words with what comes before is so great that scholars tend to assume that they are authored by a different speaker or writer. The contrast of tone isn’t the only reason for the common scholarly determination of more than one “Isaiah,” but I don’t find such a conclusion compelling. More importantly, I contend that identification of the author is nowhere near as important as what is being said.
What we have here is the beginning of a sequel or a new act. Act One had ended with the stage going dark. All hope is lost because Israel has spiraled down to the apparent point of no return. Act One closes with a most cynical tale of King Hezekiah, one of the greatest of all Jewish kings, receiving God’s message from Isaiah that even though he successfully overcame the Assyrian siege and was miraculously cured of a terminal illness, Babylon, the empire that would succeed Assyria, will vanquish his dynasty and take the people into exile. If that’s not bad enough, the hitherto noble king comforts himself with the news that this won’t happen until after he is long dead.
Act Two bursts onto the stage with the words: “Comfort, comfort my people,” says Israel’s God—judgment has run its course, warfare has ended; sin is forgiven. The Hebrew word for “comfort” (nacham) has two basic meanings, depending on its use. Either way, it denotes change. It could mean “to relent,” a change of intention—one plan of action replacing another. The meaning here, however, is “to comfort” or “to be comforted”—an emotional change in which one feels a certain way, usually bad, and is consoled, shifting their outlook on life.
Against the backdrop of despair and cynicism is the promise of comfort. The diagnosis was devastating; the sickness far worse than imagined. Under normal circumstances, such a road leads to nothing but complete destruction. But not in this case—not as far as God’s people are concerned. The God of enduring, covenant love always has a positive future in mind for his precious people, despite comparatively short-term hardship.
Israel’s desperate plight at the end of Act One typifies our own day in many ways. Despite previously unknown levels of affluence and the exceptional quality of life experienced by so many, societal and personal darkness pervades. From old and new terminal illnesses to political instability to levels of antisemitism not seen since the 1930s and the threat of nuclear annihilation, one little spark can set the whole world ablaze. At the same time, we are engulfed by a cloud of meaninglessness and hopelessness that saturates the global psyche, and many no longer grasp what it means to be human.
God’s word to Israel was that the day was coming when their suffering would cease, creation would be renewed, and peace would reign forever. The Jewish people’s incessant angst and anguish would finally and forever be transformed when chaos turns to order, destruction to rebuilding, sickness to health, and death to life. Therefore, be comforted. The darkness will not last forever. Light will not only return but will never fade again.
These words of comfort are not for Israel alone. God’s heart for the Jewish people reflects his desire for all peoples. Every human being has a story like Israel, albeit with a different cast of characters and unique subplots. Yet, whatever our heritage, the human story is the same: tragically dark and often hopeless, if we are honest. Yet, like Israel, your story needn’t end there. With God, there’s a second Act for you too.
You may have thought that your story ends with Act One. You may think there’s nothing beyond the darkness of your life. Or, like Hezekiah, you comfort yourself with short-term vision, making the best of your situation. “It could be worse,” you say. Yet you know if you would look beyond yourself, you couldn’t handle the state of the world.
But the story isn’t over. God will come through. He has proven that through the resurrection of the Messiah. You may already believe that, even though you have a hard time being comforted. It might be that you are still stuck at the end of Act One, thinking, in spite of your claim to faith, that darkness has the final word after all.
Excuse me while I flick off and on the lights. Intermission is over! There’s more to your story because there is more to God’s story. Not only does he win in the end, but he also invites you to be part of it. Perhaps that’s your problem. All the while you have been sitting in the audience, when you are actually a star in the show. You don’t only get to be part of the grand conclusion; you have an essential role to play.
I understand why you are sitting there. Life has been so painful and confusing. You have tried to comfort yourself to no avail. But that’s the problem. Right now, God wants to heal and restore you. And he will if you cooperate with him. You will be comforted once you allow him to comfort you on his terms.
Scriptures taken from the English Standard Version
