“Console, console My people,” says your God.
—Isaiah 40:1
Two merchants, neighbors and longtime friends, set off on
an extended business trip. Same journey, but for very different reasons.
Abe Geltman, a man of comfortable means, had no pressing
need to travel, except for the urgent need to escape his wife. A formidable
woman with a temper as sharp as her tongue, she had made his home life an
exercise in endurance. A few weeks on the road? A small price to pay for peace
and quiet.
His good friend Mendel, on the other hand, had no such
luxuries. Business had been rough, bills were piling up, and he could no longer
afford to wait for things to get better on their own. He set out in search of
new markets, new opportunities, anything to keep his family afloat.
Months passed with no word from the two men. Their wives,
left behind at home, worried about their husbands, though, truth be told, for
rather different reasons.
Then, at last, a traveler arrived, carrying letters from
both men. Naturally, both wives were eager to read them.
The messenger, however, was in no hurry. Road-weary and
hungry, he begged for a night’s rest before digging through his belongings.
“First thing in the morning,” he assured them, “you’ll have your letters.”
Mendel’s wife, however, was not willing to wait. “I need
my letter now,” she insisted.
The messenger sighed. “Why can’t you wait until tomorrow,
like Mrs. Geltman?”
She scoffed. “Oh, our situations couldn’t be more different.
I’m living hand-to-mouth. I need to know how my husband is managing, if he’s
found new prospects, if we’ll have enough to eat.”
“And Mrs. Geltman?”
“Mrs. Geltman? She has everything she needs. The only
thing she’s worried about is whether her husband has decided never to come
back. As far as she’s concerned, the fact that he wrote at all is good enough.
The details—his business, his travels—completely irrelevant.”
Our Consolation
Isaiah delivered a powerful message to the nation: “Nachamu,
nachamu ami—‘Console, console My people,’ says your God.”
The Jewish people is like the wife of the wealthy
merchant. Her concern was never about survival. She knew her husband could
provide. What troubled her was the fear that perhaps he had left her for good.
Similarly, we don’t doubt God’s power or worry that He
lacks the means to sustain us. What burdens our hearts is the question: Has He
abandoned us? Have our mistakes, our failures, damaged our relationship with
Him beyond repair?
Then comes the prophet’s message: “Ami—My people.”
Not forsaken. Not forgotten. We are still His.
With that single word, our consolation begins.
