Sing for joy, O heavens, and exult, O earth; break forth, O mountains, into singing! For the Lord has comforted his people, and will have compassion on his suffering ones. But Zion said, “The Lord has forsaken me, my Lord has forgotten me.” Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands; your walls are continually before me. Your builders outdo your destroyers, and those who laid you waste go away from you. (Isaiah 49:13-17)

To all appearances, God has forgotten his people. At this point in history they are in exile in Babylon—depressed, homesick, alienated. Zion, their home city far away, is empty and in ruins.

This historical experience of God’s people at a given date can shed light on experiences of the same kind that can happen to any group or individual. We find ourselves in a situation where it is not good to be. Everything seems meaningless; God seems to be no longer with us. Our prayer, if we still pray at all, becomes a complaint: “God has forgotten me.”

Through the prophet’s words, God replies to this complaint with great force and infinite gentleness. To suppose that God forgets us is to be utterly, completely mistaken. God compares himself with a mother (the Bible’s images of God are not exclusively masculine) whose attentive concern for her child never fails: and God’s attention is more constant even than this. In another image, God has “inscribed” his people’s name not on some external memorial, but on the palms of his own hands, from which he can never be separated. The ruined state of the city’s walls does not mean that God is absent or that he will have no more to do with them: no, they are always in his presence, and they are going to be rebuilt and come alive again.

The prophet’s announcement of God’s attentive love already transforms the situation, even before the physical return from exile. It is good news, and the joy of it already begins to overflow from God’s people to the mountains, the earth, to the whole universe.

 What experiences have I known, individually or as a member of a group, of seeming to be forgotten by God?

 In such situations, what can I do to express to God that I would like to welcome his attentive love, even if as yet I hardly perceive it?

 What can I do to help others who may feel alienated or “in exile” to become aware of this love that transforms?