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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. Ten Prophets and One Question at the Door
  2. Then They Sent the Fathers In
  3. The One Who Lit the Fire Admits It
  4. My Daughter, Why All This Anger
  5. Isaiah Wrote Over Jeremiah's Line

Hosea went first, and he went with one line in his hand.

Isaiah Came When Every Other Prophet Had Already Failed Click for full size

He found Zion sitting in the dark the way a woman sits when the house has burned down around her, and he said what he had been sent to say. "The Holy One sent me to you. I have come to comfort you."

She did not get up. "What have you got?" she said.

He opened his hand and gave her the line. "I will be to Israel like dew" (Hosea 14:6). It was a good line, because dew comes in the driest month without thunder and without anyone asking, and it comes every morning.

She had heard him before, though, and she said so. "Yesterday you told me Ephraim is stricken, their stock is withered, they can produce no fruit. Today you bring me dew. Which of the two am I supposed to believe, the first or the second?"

Hosea had nothing, since both lines were his. He had carried the withering to her himself, in that voice, out of that mouth, and now the same mouth had come back with the opposite. So he went out, and the next one went in.

Ten Prophets and One Question at the Door

Joel brought her mountains dripping with wine (Joel 4:18), but she remembered him waking the drunkards to weep over the wine that had been taken away. Amos came to raise up the fallen booth of David, so she handed him back his own sentence about Maiden Israel, fallen and not to rise. Micah offered a God who forgives iniquity and got the transgression of Jacob read out at him. Then Nahum, then Habakkuk, then Zephaniah, then Haggai, then Zechariah, then Malachi, each walking in with a hand full of restoration and hearing the same question before he had finished speaking.

Rabbi Abba bar Kahana put her answer as a jab at their craft. Do your words need polishing? Until this hour my ears have been full of the beatings you gave me with them, and now you come to comfort me. She quoted Job at their backs on the way out. "Why then do you offer me empty consolation? Of your replies only the perfidy remains" (Job 21:34).

Then They Sent the Fathers In

Ten prophets had already failed at that door, so the fathers were sent in after them. Abraham walked in and asked her to take comfort from him, but she would not, because of what he had done to her name. "You made me a mountain," she said. On the mount of God there is vision (Genesis 22:14). He had gone up her slope with a boy and a knife and come back down leaving a word behind that meant seeing and slaughter in the same breath.

Isaac came after him and did worse, since Esau came out of Isaac, and Esau's sons were the ones who turned her into an open field and put fire in it. Jacob tried, and she told him he had unmade her: this is none other than the abode of God (Genesis 28:17), which turns a city into a place a man passes through in the night. Then Moses came, and she did not have to think about him at all. He had written the curses. Wasting famine, ravaging plague (Deuteronomy 32:24). Those words were in his handwriting long before they were in her streets.

So all of them went back together and stood in front of the Holy One with the one sentence they had left. "Master of the Universe, she will not accept our comforting."

The One Who Lit the Fire Admits It

The answer was that nobody else was going to walk. "I and you will go to her," God said, and then gave the reason, and the reason was a list of God's own offenses.

It is written that you shall not put your firstborn ox to work, and Israel is the one God called My firstborn son, and God still put their necks under the yoke of Babylon. It is written that you shall not hate your kinsman in your heart, and God hated her. It is written that whoever starts a fire pays for the damage, and the fire that took her roofs came down from above.

One promise was attached to that last item. The one who had sent fire down on her would stand around her as fire himself, a wall of it, on every side (Zechariah 2:9).

My Daughter, Why All This Anger

Then God came to her and asked it straight. "My daughter, why all this anger?"

She had it ready. "Is it not justified? You scattered me through the nations. You cursed me with evil curses. You whipped me until my face went the color of the rim of a cauldron. And through the whole of it I went on sanctifying Your great name."

God denied none of it, though the accounting ran both ways once it started, since fathers and mothers had been humiliated inside her walls and men there had been eager to shed blood (Ezekiel 22:7, 22:9). She had one demand left before she would be comforted, and it was not a soft one. She wanted the men who had done this to her brought where she could watch.

She got that promise (Isaiah 49:26). Then she asked for one more thing, in a different voice. Give me a brother. Not Cain, who killed his. Not Ishmael, who hated Isaac. Not Esau, who hated Jacob. Not the ten who put Joseph in the pit, but Joseph himself, who had every reason to collect and collected nothing. "Fear not. I will sustain you and your children" (Genesis 50:21). He spoke kindly to the men who had sold him, so the One coming up the road to Jerusalem could manage at least that much.

Isaiah Wrote Over Jeremiah's Line

Everything Jeremiah struck, Isaiah came along behind him and healed. Jeremiah had looked at the city and written that she had nobody to comfort her (Lamentations 1:2), and that sentence stood for a long time with nothing underneath it.

Then Isaiah put his words down on that exact line, and he doubled the word so it could not be taken for one man's opinion. "Comfort, comfort My people" (Isaiah 40:1). Speak to the heart of Jerusalem.

Ben Sira, writing in Jerusalem a few centuries after him, kept one sentence about the man and nothing else: with a great spirit he saw the end, and he comforted the mourners of Zion.


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The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Ben Sira 49:16Ben Sira

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Wisdom of Ben Sira, Cambridge University Press (1899) · CC-BY

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. 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

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Sefaria Community Translation · CC-BY

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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