Karen Hollis | Oct 8, 2023
Thanksgiving
Isaiah 5:1-7 Let me sing for my beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard: My beloved had a vineyard on a very fertile hill. He dug it and cleared it of stones, and planted it with choice vines; he built a watchtower in the midst of it, and hewed out a wine vat in it; he expected it to yield grapes, but it yielded wild grapes. And now, inhabitants of Jerusalem and people of Judah, judge between me and my vineyard. What more was there to do for my vineyard that I have not done in it? When I expected it to yield grapes, why did it yield wild grapes? And now I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard. I will remove its hedge, and it shall be devoured; I will break down its wall, and it shall be trampled down. I will make it a waste; it shall not be pruned or hoed, and it shall be overgrown with briers and thorns; I will also command the clouds that they rain no rain upon it. For the vineyard of the LORD of hosts is the house of Israel, and the people of Judah are his pleasant planting; he expected justice, but saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry!
Psalm 80:7-15
Your Face Shine on Us and Give Us Peace
Shepherd of Israel, hear us, you who lead Joseph like a flock, you who are enthroned amid the cherubim.
Shine forth before Ephraim, Benjamin and Manasseh; stir up your might, come and save us.
You brought a vine out of Egypt, you drove out the nations and planted it.
You cleared the ground for it; it sank deep roots, and filled the land.
Mountains were covered with its shade, the mighty cedars with its branches.
It stretched out its branches as far as the Sea, and its shoots as far as the River.
Why then have you broken down its enclosure, so that all who go by pluck its grapes?
The boar from the forest roots it up, and the beasts of the field devour it.
Turn to us again, God of hosts, look down from heaven and see.
Bestow your care on this vine, on the stock which your right hand planted.
As for those who set it on fire, who cut it down, may they perish at the frown of your face.
Let your hand rest on the one by your side, on the one you have made strong for yourself.
Then we will never forsake you; give us life, and we will call on your name.
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be reflections of your word to us today, in Christ’s name we pray. Amen
Before I sat down yesterday to begin writing my reflection on these texts, breaking news came on the television. Israel/Palestine caught the immediate attention of the media and much of the world yesterday, myself included. I tend to tread lightly on the issue of conflict in the region, in part because my knowledge of the history and context is very patchy, also because the conflict is so old, it’s ancient, it’s layered, and complex. Conflict in the region goes back centuries . . . so I try to listen, to witness stories and hear the perspectives and experiences of people who have been there or have direct ties to the region. For people of faith, underneath the stories, news reports, and crises in the area are questions about where God is present.
What do you think? Where is God in the conflict? How does God choose where and how to show up amid human activity? Where is God during critical and ordinary moments in our own lives? As a child I thought about God a lot. I wondered about God’s existence, God’s ability to break into my life and answer my prayers. I wondered if there was a direct relationship between my prayer and God’s action or if God would prove God’s existence to me. I remember my 8-year-old self praying: “if you fix this one thing in my life, I’ll never ask for anything else.”
I also remember thinking . . . am I being unrealistic that I’ll never need to ask again or that I never will ask again? I imagine God laughing. As an adult, I am much more comfortable with the mystery of God, and necessarily still wonder and ask a lot of questions.
The authors of this morning’s scripture texts wonder about God’s relationship with the Israelites during one of the ancient conflicts in the region. In the 8th century BCE, the Assyrian rulers refreshed their structure of governance and re-conquered the Mediterranean seaboard, including the Northern Kingdom of Israel.1
During this time of war, which the Israelites lose, the prophet Isaiah, with his prophetic imagination, writes from the perspective of God, who wonders: “What more was there to do for my vineyard that I have not done in it?” (Isaiah 5) The Vineyard is, as we’ve been told, a metaphor for Israel. Isaiah imagines God saying: I have given you everything you need to thrive . . . why do you yield bad fruit? . . . God is angry with the Israelites and leaves the vineyard to neglect.
The Psalmist, on the other hand, uses their imagination to write from the perspective of the people of Israel . . . a song of love, confusion, and lament for the people’s relationship with God. They wonder: why would God bring us out of Egypt, prepare the land for us, plant us and help us grow deep roots, just to leave us vulnerable to attack? Their imagination reveals their deep need for God’s presence, God’s protection. They have a firmly held theological belief that this is the source of their safety . . . both Isaiah and the Psalmist express that God has withdrawn God’s self from Israel, has put distance between them, and has left Israel to fend for itself. This is their nightmare . . . and a basic human fear: to live without the presence of God. While the image is disturbing, let us consider some context around this theological idea that may shine a hopeful light, even if the texts themselves do not endeavor to do so.2
Hope comes in the Kabbalah, a Jewish mystical text, that explores the idea that during the process of creation, God withdrew God’s self. “Daniel C. Matt explains, ‘Before the creation of the world [The Infinite] withdrew itself into its essence, from itself to itself within itself. It left an empty space within its essence, in which it could emanate and create.”3 So the idea is that in the beginning God took up all space . . . and God withdrew God’s self to make space within God’s essence for something else to exist. For creation to exist . . . so does that mean God’s withdrawal is an act of creation? Our United Church tradition affirms that God’s acts of creation and co-creation with us continue, so is our periodic experience of God’s absence part of God’s continued creation? In God’s absence, is God making space for us to engage in our part of co-creation? Space for us to exercise our free will or process our circumstances? Do we as humans need some periods of time to apply what we have learned or try something new? Is it not also in our nature to, at times, follow our egos down rabbit holes that don’t ultimately bear good fruit? I don’t mean to demonize our egos here . . . they are necessary for us to live and have personalities . . . and they need to be balanced with other parts of us. It’s certainly complicated when you think about it.
The idea of God’s withdrawal is also ethically complicated in the context of these passages. “For Source [or God] in this text not to withdraw would be to resource economic war and devastation,”4 as the ancient Israelites engage in an armed conflict with the Assyrians. I’ve often struggled with the concept of asking God to help in battle, but I never thought about the ancient Israelite experience in quite that way. Would God distance from the conflict, withdraw from the fighting? What does God do in places of conflict? Does God witness? lament, cry? Does the Source of all creation soak all sides in light and love? Stand with the wounded? Activate the hearts of those who are prepared to work for truth, healing, and reconciliation?
We listen to a lot of music at our house (surprising, I know) – one YouTube video we return to again and again is a particular recording of One Day written by a musician called Matisyahu.
This recording was made on February 14th, 2018, when the social music initiative known as Koolulam (Koolelem) invited to Haifa, Israel 3,000 Muslims and Jews who had never met before. The group learned the song, One Day, in an hour, and sang it in English, Arabic, and Hebrew. These are the words of the chorus:
All my life, I've been waitin' for
I've been prayin' for, for the people to say
That we don't wanna fight no more
There'll be no more wars, and our children will play . . . one day . . .
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XqvKDCP5-xE)
I hope you have a chance to watch the video . . . you can feel God’s presence in the arena through the screen . . . the whole gathering praying together as they sing . . . it’s a vision, God’s vision . . . of harmony among all people in the Holy Land and around the world. A vision that is shared by many Israelites and Palestinians, along with Muslims and Jews from all over who are united for peace. May we all lift our voices and sing together, may we share tables, share meals, may we give thanks together and collaborate with one another and with our Creator toward this collective vision. Thanks be to God.
1 https://www.worldhistory.org/assyria/ Oct 7, 2023
2 Overton. Enfleshed Oct 8, 2023
3 Enfleshed, Oct 8, 2023
4 Overton, ibid.