A Lenten Feast?
A Reflection on Isaiah 55
by Brittany Fiscus-van Rossum
Preached at Light of Hope Presbyterian Church (Marietta, GA) on 3.23.25
“All you who are thirsty, come to the waters and drink! If you have no money, come anyway and eat and drink without cost. Live! And eat what is good. Delight in the richest of fare.” In this portion of Isaiah, the prophet gives us a vision proclaimed from the voice of God—an image of what our God desires for God’s people. God calls out to anyone hungry or thirsty that there is good food and clean water. With abundant hospitality, God sets out everything God’s people might need and beckons us to come on.
This may seem a funny text for the middle of Lent, a feast with rich fare—honey and wine—an image of not only needs-being-met but of God’s audacious and free abundance. Feasting is for Mardi Gras or for celebrating Resurrection Sunday after these long forty days are over, right? Lent is supposed to be a time for cutting back or giving things up. It’s a penitent season, after all, a time we Christians have set aside in our liturgical calendar to repent. It is a season for taking stock of what might need mending. It is a time to pay attention and stop long enough to realize that we might need to turn from some of our ways to follow God.
I love Lent. Every year when Ash Wednesday rolls around, it hits me like a breath of fresh air, a reminder to stop going, going, going, and slow down long enough to ask myself what in my life is witnessing to Christ? And the things that aren’t? Well, maybe I need to work on cutting those things out. In a society obsessed with the need for more things (more productivity, more hours, more extra-curricular activities, more security, more labor, more products) and new things (new phones, new clothes, new apps, and ever-new standards to judge ourselves by), I love some good old Lenten practices that encourage me to slow down and ask myself what truly matters. What is filling me up in good ways and what is superfluous noise? As the passage says, what am I laboring away and wasting my time for that is not serving me or helping me to serve my neighbor? What is working for the good and the glory of God, and what might need to be cut out? But, in this season of cutting back, where does Isaiah’s vision of a feast fit in? How might meditating on the image of a great free feast help us in a season for fasting? Perhaps there is more to Lent than cutting back. Perhaps in this season of repentance, it is worth considering why we might need to change our ways and what invitation awaits us when we do. Here, I think Isaiah can help.
Speaking through the voice of God, Isaiah reveals an image to us of what God desires for the lives God has intentionally and lovingly created. God beckons God’s people with clean water to drink and good food to eat. You do not even have to pay, God says, these resources are for whoever has need of them. The image ends with God sending God’s people out into the world with joy and peace following in their wake. The mountains and hills sing, and the trees clap their hands as new growth bursts forth into life. Creation responds and flourishes around God’s beloved. It is a sign and witness to God’s promise and love for us.
It’s beautiful. Abundance. Enough of what we need. Peace. Creation in harmony with humanity. New life and growth. This is what God wants for us, what God desires to provide for God’s people. This is why, perhaps, this abundant feast, a musical creation, and an open offer for mercy is a perfect image for Lent. It can remind us that when we repent, this is the God we turn toward, a God of mercy and abundant well-being.
Our God doesn’t ask things of us arbitrarily. God isn’t an authoritarian dictator making demands of us. God doesn’t demand that we confess or repent just because God says so. God doesn’t want us to fast or cut back just for the sake of doing something difficult. It is not in actuality a 40-day “challenge” we’re taking part in this season. God doesn’t ask that we resist the allures of Amazon or the new iPhone so that we save money or be proud of ourselves. God doesn’t desire that we give up sweets or soda just to see if we can. I believe that God legitimately desires what is good for us and wants to be in life-giving relationships with God’s people. Moreover, God wants us to see how we can be in life-giving relationships with one another, too. How do I know this? Because scripture tells me so! “Listen that you may live, with my everlasting love I make a covenant with you.” Seek the Lord, call on God; God has mercy for you. These words aren’t a threat, they’re a promise. God wants what is good for humans. Everything we do, in this Lenten season and beyond it, can help us to respond to this extended invitation to abundant life and relationship with God and one another.
What is good for humans, all humans (including the factory workers and laborers who support our mass consumption, those in and beyond the borders of our country in danger, and all excluded, downcast, and vulnerable humans, too), and human life itself, gives glory to God. God wants for us the things that give us life, like joy, community, and belonging, but also the simple things, too, like enough food and water, and a safe place to sleep at night. God wants for us life, and that we may have it more abundantly.
Irenaeus, the second-century bishop and theologian, wrote that “the glory of God is a living human being.” Our lives, our wellness, and our living well together are what give glory to God. Another more recent theologian I know, Cheri, a member of our community, once said something similar to Irenaeus in a Bible study. Speaking about her years of struggling in her own journey toward wellness, Cheri confessed that an important realization for her, a moment of turning or repentance, if you will, was the realization that “God wanted me to live.”
God wants us to live, to live abundantly well, and to live well together. And yet, God also knows us and knows that we do not always choose what is good for us or good for others. We don’t always turn toward the ways of life. Sometimes, we do this in small personal ways, such as through our unhealthy habits that can trap us in patterns that hurt our own bodies or relationships. I do not say this to shame us, but merely to name with compassion this truth. In a variety of little and big ways, we do not always do what is good for our well-being.
We do this in larger, more systemic ways, too, as we move through the patterns and systems of life that exclude, exploit, and wreak violence across the planet. We are not all given the same access to that which works toward our wellness, which is yet another form of violence. This is why we need to repent. Not because God delights in some arbitrary fast or show of humility. Not because God desires that we feel bad all the time. Not because all of us need to change in the same ways. We need to repent because we need to turn toward ways of life and ways of life that include and account for everyone. The image Isaiah gives us is an image of life, where the good things are given in open invitation and all of creation rejoices. It is a vision where those who need to change their ways are offered mercy, because, ultimately, that’s what promotes their life, inclusion, and well-being, too.
We humans can tend to try to fill our lives with all sorts of things that do not lead to our well-being or the well-being of others. God sets a table for us anyway and reminds us that we can choose other ways. Instead of reaching and grasping for the things that do not promote life, God invites us to turn, to turn and give our attention to the abundance and life God desires for us all. This is what repentance means; it means to turn, to stop, and to turn toward other ways, toward God. Isaiah’s vision is an image of repentance, wherein God calls out to us over the noise to invite us into the abundance of life that we share with others. In fraught times, and in times when things are going our way, too, I believe we must resist the urge to close ourselves off to one another and listen for God’s invitation to abundance instead. I believe we must seek the goodness and life that God desires for us all, and that this seeking must be done together.
Without going into all the details, I will simply say that our little community has been going through a rough couple of years. Things have not exactly gone as we would have planned, and in this transitionary period, things are tight. I’m sure many of us can relate to these feelings of financial or other strains that can make us feel limited in what we’re able to do. Yet, last Sunday morning, when I arrived for service, I was met with an abundant feast.
There, in the kitchen we rent for a few hours a week, was a spread that could rival any brunch buffet. There was an abundance of farm-fresh eggs scrambled to creamy perfection. And we all know eggs are a hot commodity right now! But our friends who own a flock of chickens share dozens with us each week because they can and because they trust that we will share them with those who are hungry. There were biscuits and gravy prepared and shared by our Baptist friends up the street. There was sausage perfectly browned by some of our members who wake up and walk to the church in the early hours of the morning to cook before everyone else gets there. There were hot over-buttered grits, a smorgasbord of snacks, orange juice, and coffee, and lunch prepped and ready to go after the service for anyone who might want a meal later in the day. These are shared by another church’s members who like to come eat and worship with us, too.
It is a literal feast, there in a borrowed kitchen on a street where many of the congregation sleeps at night—an abundant gift for us all to share for free, lovingly brought together by any of us who are willing to participate in this opportunity to give and receive. A big free breakfast like the one orchestrated by our community and its friends each Sunday is a small offering of grace. It’s not a program or solution to the reality of food insecurity. But I do believe that it is one small example of a little group of people choosing, in the midst of hardship, to come together and do things that promote life. People deserve good food and fellowship, rest, opportunities for community, and a chance to work together to make and share something nice. It is all made better that the lines between who is cooking, who is sharing, who is eating, who is giving, and who is receiving all get blurred in this great big feast with an open invitation to receive and give.
One more thing that I love about Lent is that because none of us are Christians in isolation, ideally, this season is practiced in the Christian community, giving me a sense of accountability as I consider what things I may need to repent from and what things are witnessing to Christ. Sometimes, I cannot fully see how I am hurting myself or others without my neighbors’ help. Sometimes in my own feelings of fear or scarcity, I cannot see the abundance I have to offer or the ways I might yet witness to God’s abundant grace. I need those I trust to help me in this discerning. I need the accountability of my community to resist the noisy busyness and bad news of this world and to remember what is important.
God has nothing but mercy for us because God wants good things for us. This Lent, I hope we receive this vision from Isaiah as a reminder to stop laboring for that which does not satisfy and to instead seek to be people of hospitality, people of mercy. Not only with our words and worship but with our lives and with our choices, little and big ones, let us witness and make sure that everyone knows about this great feast to which we are all invited. Let our repentance bring more mercy and abundance in this hurting world. Let us carry forth this spirit of repentance that leads to wellness throughout this season, on into Easter, and on, and on, and on. Let our turning toward God lead us toward an abundance of love and mercy.