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Isaiah Came When Every Other Prophet Had Already Failed

Every prophet went to comfort Zion after the destruction. Every one was turned away. Then the patriarchs tried. Then God came personally. Then Isaiah.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Zion Would Not Be Comforted
  2. When the Patriarchs Tried
  3. God Came Personally
  4. The Prophet Who Only Spoke Comfort

Zion Would Not Be Comforted

After the Temple fell and Jerusalem lay in ruins and the children were led away in chains, God sent the prophets. Not one. All of them. Hosea went first. He stood before Zion and said: I will be to Israel like dew. Zion said: yesterday you told me that Ephraim is stricken and their stock withered. Which should I believe? The comfort or the doom? He could not answer both.

Joel came. Amos came. Micah. Nahum. Habakkuk. Zephaniah. Haggai. Zechariah. Malachi. Each one carried a word of consolation and each one had also carried a word of devastation, and Zion, the grieving mother, the city that had watched her children taken, was not willing to accept comfort from the same voice that had pronounced the sentence. She sent them all away.

When the Patriarchs Tried

Then God sent the patriarchs. Abraham came to Zion and said: receive comfort from me. She said: you named me a mountain for the binding of your son. Isaac came. She said: you dug wells that others seized. Jacob came. She said: your family became slaves in Egypt. Moses came. She said: you wrote the curses. The great curses of Deuteronomy, the list of catastrophes that would come if Israel departed from God, had come from Moses's mouth before they came from God's hand. How could Moses comfort her for something he had foretold?

They all failed. Everyone who had ever spoken a word of judgment against Jerusalem, no matter how much they had also loved her, could not close the wound that their own words had helped open.

God Came Personally

Then God came. God stood before Zion and said: be comforted, be comforted, my people. Zion said: I cannot receive comfort from you. I am like a woman whose husband has divorced her. Would a divorced woman accept comfort from the husband who abandoned her? Even from God, it was too much to ask. The one who had the most right to give the comfort was also the one whose departure had caused the grief.

God said: this comfort cannot come from me. It must come from someone who has only ever spoken words of comfort to you. Who among all the prophets has never once brought a word of doom?

The Prophet Who Only Spoke Comfort

Isaiah. The second half of the book that bears his name opens with a voice that has never, in those chapters, said anything other than consolation. Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak to the heart of Jerusalem. Her warfare is ended. Her guilt is paid. She has received double from the Lord's hand for all her sins.

This was the answer to why Zion would receive what Isaiah brought but had refused from everyone else. Isaiah's voice in those chapters carried no memory of doom. He could stand before the grieving city and offer comfort without the comfort being contaminated by the judgment that had preceded it from every other mouth.

The midrash is not saying the other prophets were less. It is saying that genuine comfort requires an unblemished source, someone who has not contributed to the wound. The mercy that heals cannot come from the same place as the cut.


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From the tradition

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Ben Sira 49:16Ben Sira

Ben Sira, in his wisdom, points us to figures who possessed just such insight.

He begins with someone who, "with a great spirit… saw the end, and comforted the mourners of Zion." Who could this be? While unnamed here, Jewish tradition often associates this prophetic spirit with figures like Isaiah, known for his powerful visions of both destruction and ultimate redemption for Jerusalem. Imagine the comfort, the sheer hope, such a person could bring in times of despair. Ben Sira continues, "Eternally he told them what would be, and secrets before they occured." Powerful stuff. Prophecy isn't just about predicting the future; it's about understanding the deeper patterns of history and offering guidance.

Then we have Nehemiah. "Glorious is his memory; Who raised up our ruins: And healed our breaches; And set up gates and bars." After the Babylonian exile, Jerusalem lay in ruins. Nehemiah, with unwavering dedication, rebuilt the city walls and restored Jewish communal life. He wasn't just a builder; he was a restorer of hope, a symbol of resilience. He gave the people back their city, their safety, and their sense of purpose.

Ben Sira then makes some more cryptic remarks. "Few have been created upon the earth like Enoch(?); And he also was taken within(?)." Enoch is a truly mysterious figure. The Torah tells us he "walked with God; and he was not, for God took him" (Genesis 5:24). What does it mean to be "taken within?" The midrashim (rabbinic interpretive commentary), those wonderful rabbinic stories and interpretations, are filled with speculation. Some say he ascended to heaven alive, becoming the angel Metatron. Others see it as a metaphor for spiritual transcendence. Either way, Enoch represents a rare level of intimacy with the Divine.

"Like Joseph was ever a man born? And also his body was visited." Joseph, the dreamer, the interpreter of Pharaoh's dreams, the one who saved Egypt from famine. He was a man of incredible resilience, rising from slavery to become one of the most powerful figures in the land. What does it mean that "his body was visited?" Perhaps it refers to the eventual return of his bones to the Land of Israel, fulfilling a promise he made to his people (Exodus 13:19).

Finally, Ben Sira concludes with, "And Shem and Seth and Enosh were visited (H); And above every living thing was the glory of Adam." These are the early generations, the very beginnings of humanity. Shem, son of Noah, an ancestor of Abraham. Seth, son of Adam and Eve, continuing the line after Abel's death. Enosh, Seth's son, during whose time, Genesis tells us, "men began to call upon the name of the Lord" (Genesis 4:26). And Adam? Well, Adam represents humanity in its purest, most uncorrupted form. He was created "in the image of God" (Genesis 1:27), a being of immense potential and inherent dignity.

What connects all these figures? They each, in their own way, represent a connection to something larger than themselves. Whether it's prophetic vision, selfless leadership, or a profound relationship with the Divine, they remind us that we too can strive to live lives of meaning and purpose. They challenge us to look beyond the everyday and to seek out the deeper currents of history and spirituality. What will your legacy be?

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Yalkut Shimoni on Nach 443:2Yalkut Shimoni on Nach

It turns out, this struggle is ancient. The Yalkut Shimoni, a compilation of rabbinic interpretations of the Bible, preserves a powerful midrash, an interpretive story, on the verse "Comfort, oh comfort My people" from (Isaiah 40:1). ( And it reveals a profound truth about grief, trauma, and the very nature of divine comfort.

The midrash begins with a question: Who is truly in need of comfort? Is it the husband who lost his wife? The text suggests it’s deeper than that. Zion, representing the people of Israel in exile and mourning, is likened to someone dwelling in darkness, "like those long dead," as (Lamentations 3:6) puts it. But the Yalkut Shimoni asks, isn't it God who we should be comforting?

The text then unfolds through a series of analogies, each more poignant than the last. It’s like a person whose children are taken captive, or whose house has burned down, echoing (Jeremiah 10:20) and Kings II 25:9. It's like a person whose vineyards have been cut down (Isaiah 5:7), or a shepherd whose flock has been ravaged by a lion, as (Jeremiah 50:6) describes. In each case, the question remains: to whom do we offer comfort, if not to the one who has suffered the greatest loss? In this case, according to the midrash, that's God.

Here's where it gets really interesting. God sends the prophets to comfort the House of Israel. One by one, Hosea, Joel, Amos, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zecharia, and Malachi approach her, each bearing a message of hope and restoration.

But Israel rejects them all.

Each prophet offers a vision of future redemption, quoting their own prophecies, but Israel throws their words back at them, saying, "Yesterday you told me one thing, and now you say another – which should I believe?" It's a powerful indictment of empty promises and the difficulty of accepting comfort when the pain is still raw. As (Job 21:34) says, "Why then do you offer me empty consolation? Of your replies only the perfidy remains." Ouch.

Then comes a series of attempts by our great ancestors: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Moses, to comfort Jerusalem, as well. But these attempts also fail. Abraham reminds her of the binding of Isaac, saying: “On the mount of God there is vision” (Genesis 22:14)? Isaac reminds her of Esau's wickedness. Jacob reminds her of his vision of the ladder, saying, "'This is none other than the abode of God' (Genesis 28:17)?" And Moses reminds her of the curses in the Torah, as it is written: “Wasting famine, ravaging plague” (Deuteronomy 32:24). She rejects them all, saying their actions or legacies have contributed to her suffering.

Finally, the prophets cry out to God, "Master of the Universe, she does not accept our comfortings!"

And God responds with the most profound statement of all: "I and you shall walk to comfort her." God recognizes that only the one who has shared in the suffering can truly offer solace. "Comfort O comfort my people," God says, "Comfort Her, O comfort her, my people."

The midrash then explores a remarkable self-indictment by God. God says it is not fitting that anyone other than God should walk to comfort Jerusalem, because God transgressed what is written in the Torah: "you must not work your firstling ox” (Deuteronomy 15:19) and Israel God called “My first-born son” (Exodus 4:22).

God acknowledges having seemingly violated God's own laws: hating kinsfolk, selling the people into the hands of idol-worshippers (Deuteronomy 32:30), and venting anger upon them (Lamentations 4:11). God even acknowledges igniting the fire that consumed the Temple, referencing (Lamentations 1:13), but promising a future fire of protection, as described in (Zechariah 2:9).

God asks Jerusalem, "My Daughter, why all of this anger?" And Jerusalem responds, "Is it not justified that I be angry? You dispersed me among the nations, cursed me, and whipped me… and despite all of this, I sanctified Your great name!"

The dialogue continues, with God acknowledging Israel's transgressions as well, citing (Ezekiel 22:7), 22:9, and (Hosea 4:2). But ultimately, God assures Jerusalem that redemption is at hand, promising to avenge her oppressors in front of her very eyes, as (Isaiah 49:26) prophesies.

The midrash concludes with a powerful analogy: God's comfort will be like that of Joseph towards his brothers, who had wronged him so greatly. Despite their betrayal, Joseph reassured them, speaking kindly and providing for them. “And so, fear not. I will sustain you and your children.” Thus he reassured them, speaking kindly to them” (Genesis 50:21).

Finally, the text draws a parallel between the prophecies of Jeremiah and Isaiah: where Jeremiah lamented, "There is none to comfort her" (Lamentations 1:2), Isaiah heals with the promise: "Comfort, oh comfort My people" (Isaiah 40:1).

So, what does this all mean for us today?

Perhaps it's a reminder that true comfort isn't about offering quick fixes or empty platitudes. It's about acknowledging the depth of the pain, validating the anger and grief, and offering a presence of shared suffering. It's about recognizing that sometimes, the one who needs comforting the most is the one who feels responsible for the pain in the first place. And it's about the long, slow, messy, and deeply human process of healing, a process that requires both divine compassion and the courage to confront our own shortcomings.

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