Prophets – First United Methodist Church Schenectady

“Love-vines” based on Isaiah 5:1-7

August 14, 2016February 15, 2020
by Sara Baron

I’m told it takes years to build a vineyard, and it takes pretty choice land as well. Vineyards need sandy or loose soil, they need lots of sun by day and dew at night. Israel exists in a desert climate so building a vineyard there means that access to enough water would be imperative too. The work of building a vineyard is physically demanding, requiring people to work together. In Israel, big boulders need to be moved (they’re a regular feature of the land), walls and towers have to be built to to protect the space from predators and thieves, and a ditch had to be dug around the wall. The land needed to be hoed by hand – plowing wouldn’t do, and that was hard work too! Wine presses had to be made as well, and in Biblical times they were made by hewing out those large boulders!¹ (Imagine!) And then, grapevines don’t produce fruit until their 3^rd season.

Vineyards are hard work, and big investments. Both now, and in Biblical times, not just anyone can afford to support land that wasn’t producing for 3 years, not to mention paying people to do the heavy lifting and hard labor in the meantime! The act of domesticating the land in order to produce domesticated grapes is intense.

From the earliest examples of literature, vineyards and gardens have been used to talk about fertility, love, and sex.² The metaphors are pretty easy to follow, and I’m guessing you don’t need explanations. Furthermore, grapes are a common symbol of fertility – likely the threefold combination of the clusters of grapes themselves giving expression to the idea of MANY, the impact of drinking wine, and the human eye’s enjoyment of curvy things all had impact in that! The Bible regularly uses vineyards as metaphors of sexuality as well. (The Bible also regularly acknowledges the horror of planting a vineyard and not being around to enjoy the fruits of your labor!)

It is interesting, though, isn’t it? Vineyards and gardens are intentional growing places, domesticated to allow for optimal growing conditions and care. That they become common symbols and allegories for human fertility is a bit ironic, as most of the mysteries of human fertility were unknown to the ancients and many are still unknown to us. The choice of the symbolism itself suggests humans wanting to have more control over sexuality and fertility than they do!!

Let’s look at a few of the places that the Bible intentionally connects the ideas of fertility/sexuality and vineyards. One comes from Deuteronomy 20:5-7:

Then the officials shall address the troops, saying, “Has anyone built a new house but not dedicated it? He should go back to his house, or he might die in the battle and another dedicate it Has anyone planted a vineyard but not yet enjoyed its fruit? He should go back to his house, or he might die in the battle and another be first to enjoy its fruit. Has anyone become engaged to a woman but not yet married her? He should go back to his house, or he might die in the battle and another marry her.”

While these are three separate ideas, they are also three interconnected ones, and I believe the order is intentional. The metaphors are most striking in Song of Songs:

My mother’s sons were angry with me; they made me keeper of the vineyards, but my own vineyard I have not kept! (1:6)

My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms in the vineyards of En-gedi. (1:14)

Catch us the foxes, the little foxes, that ruin the vineyards— for our vineyards are in blossom.” (2:15)

Let us go out early to the vineyards, and see whether the vines have budded, whether the grape blossoms have opened and the pomegranates are in bloom. There I will give you my love. (7:12)

Solomon had a vineyard at Baal-hamon; he entrusted the vineyard to keepers; each one was to bring for its fruit a thousand pieces of silver. My vineyard, my very own, is for myself; you, O Solomon, may have the thousand, and the keepers of the fruit two hundred! (8:11-12)

There is a lot of vineyard imagery in this relatively short book, isn’t there? Now, I should have been clearer about the metaphor, the vineyard/garden is usually used as a reference for FEMALE fertility.

Which is why the opening line of today’s passage is so very interesting. It sounds like a female voice to begin with, her beloved’s vineyard might first be assumed to be HER. “Let me sing for my beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard: My beloved had a vineyard on a very fertile hill.” Love and vineyards, not only do they classically work well together, they create a well-known direction to start off this passage. It is a love song with a vineyard motif. That’s a genre anyone can follow. It would be reasonable for the hearers to assume that we are going to get into some more Song of Songs like stuff!

The text goes on to explain that all the appropriate care has been given to the vineyard: all the hard work has been done. Boulders were cleared, vines were planted, a watch-tower was built, the wine press was dug out of stone itself, and it is implied that even the wall had been built. But the vineyard didn’t produce what was expected. With all that work, the vineyard owner would be expected some great wine – and, um, love.

Instead, only very seedy, un-juicy wild grapes emerged, perhaps the same kind that were growing the vineyard before the work was begun. That’s wrong! It isn’t supposed to go that way. All the hard work is supposed to produce something! In fact, it is supposed to produce something wonderful: domesticated grapes! Which are good for food directly, for food as raisins, for a sweetener AND for wine. After all, that’s why people go through all the work of the vineyard building: it is supposed to be worth it.

In this metaphor, supposedly about love, the vineyard owner decides to give up, and allow the wild to reclaim the vineyard. Connecting it back to the opening verses, it seems possible the “vineyard owner” is divorcing his wive because of her lack of fertility with him. The act of domestication had failed in this vineyard, and the vineyard owner isn’t intending to put more effort into it. No more work! The wall and the protective hedge will be destroyed. No more weeding! No more pruning! No more hoeing! And no more rain….

Which is the point when we are supposed to figure out this isn’t just a weird story about the wrong crop growing up. Normal vineyard owners don’t control the rain. This is when it becomes clear that this metaphor is about God and the people. This is when the text gets super confusing about who the one who calls God her beloved is too, but I don’t have a single answer for that. (Feel free to come up with your own answer.)

The final line of our text is the prophet Isaiah interpreting the song/story that has just been told. It feels a bit like a parable of Jesus that comes along with interpretation. The prophet explains, “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!” (5:7)

Now, the explanation doesn’t go quite as far as the metaphor does! The story ends with a suggestion of destruction, leaving us waiting for a declaration about exile! Yet, the interpretation just explains how the Israelites were supposed to be different, and aren’t. They were meant to be God’s dream for goodness in the world, but they’re just like the rest of the wild grapes. They have been domesticated: tenderly cared for and loved, but that hasn’t impacted what has grown from them. Instead of behaving with God’s justice and extending God’s love by caring for the poor, the widows, the orphans, the foreigners, and the vulnerable, the people of God have refused to participate in justice. They’ve rejected mercy for each other, and can’t call themselves righteous. The text talks of cries and bloodshed, suggesting that the ways people were being mistreated weren’t trivial: they were matters of life and death. The lack of justice meant the most vulnerable people were dying.

The people of God were acting like the wild grapes, the ones that hadn’t known tender love and care. They were receiving what God gave to them, but not letting it impact how they treated others.

This wasn’t God’s dream for the people. God planted justice and righteousness, but it didn’t grow. Rev. Paul Simpson Duke, currently copastor of First Baptist Church of Ann Arbor and Campus Minister for the American Baptist Campus Foundation at the University of Michigan, along with his wife, Stacey wrote in a commentary, “Any good news? Well, it is a love song. It ends badly. Has God stopped planting vineyards or restoring ruined ones? The bad news is that we can still be useless and a lethal danger to the world and to ourselves. The good news is that Someone still sings, plows, plants, guards, and looks for good fruit. In this is enough hope to set us humming bits of the song at least, and living toward its true ending, Love’s own harvest, sweet justice, festive righteousness, a cup of joy in the lifted hands of all.”³

It turns out that the use of the vineyard imagery wasn’t accidental, nor was the opening line claiming to be a love song! The love song part seems a little bit Country-Western, in talking about how the beloved did the person wrong, but it is still a love song. In truth, historically, there was an exile, but there was also a return. The vineyards around Jerusalem were destroyed, and later rebuilt. God’s work in the world certainly continues, even if it is a source of IMMENSE frustration to God that we KEEP ON missing the memos on justice, righteousness, and treating each other like we matter! “Someone still sings, plows, plants, guards, and looks for good fruit.“ God may well be tempted to give up on us every once in a while, but as we are told again and again, “God’s steadfast love endures forever.”

God is One with a long-view – longer even than than the person who thinks to start planting a vineyard. God still thinks we are fertile soil, capable of producing justice, righteousness, and a world of peace and love. May we take the ministrations of God – the planting and pruning, the protections and the watering, the hewing, and the watching over – and allow them to transform us into ever more fertile soil that may produce exactly what God wants: justice, righteousness, and love. Amen

1To my horror, the things I thought I knew about vineyards were affirmed here: Fred Wight, “Manner and Customs of Bible Lands” chapter 20http://www.baptistbiblebelievers.com/LinkClick.aspx?fileticket=TGctIUL-BsY%3D&tabid=232&mid=762. 1953, Accessed 8/11/16

2 C S Lewis, Allegory of Love Oxford (University Press 1936).

3Paul Simpson Duke, “Homeletical Perspective on Isaiah 5:1-7” found on page 345 of “Feasting on the Word Year C Volume 3” edited by Barbara Brown Taylor and David Bartlett (Westminster John Knox Press: Louisville Kentucky, 2010).

–

Rev. Sara E. Baron

First United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305

http://fumcschenectady.org/

https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

August 14, 2016

Sermons

“Teaching Ephraim to Walk” based on Hosea 11:1-11

July 31, 2016February 15, 2020
by Sara Baron

The imagery of God as a loving parent in this text is particularly beautiful. However, one commentator suggested that it creates a problem for preachers: if we present God as a “father” we’re continuing the damage done by lifting the masculine above the feminine; if we present God as the generic “parent” it feels cold and distant; and if we present God as a nurturing mother we conflate nurturing with motherhood and do damage to nurturing men, women who are not mothers, and people whose mothers were not nurturing.

I’m going to have to go with the idea that these are not all EQUAL problems. While I do think it is possible to reclaim the neutral “parent” as close and connected, I think that the world is more in need of a counter image to God-as-Father. That being said, the concerns about God-as-Nurturing-Mother are worth acknowledging. So, please, know this: not all us have (or have been) the healthy sort of mothers that we would want; there are incredibly nurturing men, and we are grateful for the ways that their forms of nurture benefit the world; AND there are a lot of ways that women contribute to the well-being of the world beyond motherhood. Finally, feminine does not equal nurturing. Duh. There. That being dealt with, let’s look at this amazing text of Hosea!

Did you hear the verbs attributed to God? I loved, I called, I taught, I took them up in my arms, I healed, I led, I lifted, I bent down, I fed. These are tender, sweet verbs. They describe a loving, nurturing parent who wants the very best for their child. There are a few places where the description tends to sound more feminine and maternal. The images, “I taught Ephraim to walk”, “I took them up in my arms”, “I was to them like those who lift infants to their cheeks”, “I bent down tot hem and fed them” all sound like a mother caring for a baby or a toddler. The love between the mother and the child is tangible – even as the text acknowledges that the beloved child is currently acting like rebellious teenager!

Did you catch that part? “The more I called them, the more they went from me”, “They did not know that I healed them”, “they have refused to return to me”, “they are bent on turning away from me!” Just in case you are confused about language, the “child” or “son” in this passage is variously called “Ephraim” and “Israel” which mean exactly the same thing in this case. Hosea was a northern prophet who was speaking to the northern kingdom of Israel in during the last kingship of Israel before it lost in battle to Assyria and was exiled. The terms Ephraim and Israel were used interchangeably sort of like we say “America” and “The US”. The text is believed to have been edited, rather strongly, by the southern kingdom after their exile AND return. The southern kingdom seems to have heard truth in the words and wanted to claim them for themselves, particularly that the God’s love wouldn’t run out on them.

There are, however, some theological challenges to this passage. Most interpreters hear punishment in the text, and then hear it resolved through God’s loving nature. I have yet to be convinced by anyone or anything that God actually punishes people, so I find that problematic. I do believe that most of the people who lived in Biblical times and who wrote and edited the words of the Bible believed that God punished, so that certainly explains why it might show up like that.

However, I don’t THINK this text actually says that God punishes! I think people are so used to text that do, that they project it onto this one. Listen carefully: “They shall return to the land of Egypt, and Assyria shall be their king, because they have refused to return to me.” (Hosea 11:5 NRSV) It doesn’t say – or even imply – that this is a punishment. It could just as easily be a consequence. Because of their actions, particularly the political choices of their leaders to make alliances with Egypt against Assyria, things would go wrong. Their schemes were going to lead to destruction.

Now, I really like my interpretation of that bit of the text – consequence instead of punishment – but it creates a problem soon thereafter. In verses 8-9, the words attributed to God are, “How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, O Israel? How can I make you like Admah? How can I treat you like Zeboiim? My heart recoils within me; my compassion grows warm and tender. I will not execute my fierce anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim; for I am God and no mortal, the Holy One in your midst, and I will not come in wrath.” Now, if we’d stuck with the idea that God was going to punish the people, then we’d have the easy way out here: God is a God of mercy and while God could justly punish the people, God chooses to follow God’s nature and be merciful instead. (Mercy IS “compassion or forgiveness shown toward someone whom it is within one’s power to punish or harm.”) That’d be grand – other than assuming that when bad things happen to us it is because God is punishing us and making God a really abusive parent.

However, if we go with MY theory that God is simply pointing out the consequences of their actions, then this part of the text suggests that God is deciding whether or not to interfere with the people’s free will. Furthermore, after some serious soliloquy, God decides TO interfere and change the course of human history. Sometimes fixing things makes them worse – and that definitely applies to trying to draw good theology out of the Bible!

There are good things here though, and I still think they are worth fighting for. Those last few verses make the fantastic claim that God is not like mortals, and what makes God holy is God’s capacity for mercy. That’s worth hearing, particularly if we are trying to be holy like God!

Having written myself into a corner, as I often do, now is the time you get to watch me wiggle back out of it! Now, as I often do, I’m going to suggest taking the text VERY seriously. What if the prophet is proclaiming things that are true: that God is like a tender mother who adores her children, that God’s people are like rebellious teenagers, that the actions of God’s people are going to cause them a whole lot of trouble, that like any good parent God is going to struggle to decide how much God should help out the teenager for the trouble they got themselves into, and that in the end God really really want to help the beloved child – sort of like an overly compassionate mother? That doesn’t HAVE to imply an invasion of free will…. it could just be a decision of how much help to OFFER!

Then we come to a new question! When we as a people get ourselves stuck in really bad situations, how is it that we think God helps? Does God change reality and the physical properties of nature around us? Does God interfere with our free will? Does God change the hearts of other people around us – and thereby interfere with THEIR free will?

Or is it more subtle? Does God simply stay with us in the bad times and make sure we aren’t alone? Does God help us by guiding us to creative solutions? Does God help us by giving us the courage to admit our mistakes and ask those around us for mercy and help? Does God help us by encouraging those willing to listen to offer us love and compassion?

The more I think about it, the more I think the beginning of this passage fits with its middle and its end. Israel is presented as variously a baby, a toddler, and a teenager. Those are all people that are allowed to make mistakes, to not know, to need some guidance. They are even people – at least the toddler and the teenager- who are EXPECTED to rebel. Often as grown-ups we’ve bought into the story that we aren’t supposed to make mistakes anymore, and that we are now supposed to know things. It makes it much harder for us when we are stuck in difficult situations to get out – because sometimes it feels like admitting that we are imperfect is the same as admitting that we are failures. Unlike the grace given by healthy parents to children, we sometimes forget to give ourselves grace when we make a mistake! Israel is presented like a child making a mistake, and God is presented as righteously angry – and gracious nonetheless.

I have told you this story before, but it is the best one I know, so I’m going to tell you again.

Julian of Norwich was a 14^th century mystic in England who wrote the potent little book, “Revelations of a Divine Love” based on a mystical experience she had while desperately ill, and decades of prayerful reflection on it afterward. She tells one of my favorite stories, intending to clarify the relationship between people and God. This is my synopsis of it:

A servant dearly loves their ruler. The ruler asks the servant to go run an errand, and the servant is THRILLED to get do so something to help the ruler. The servant, however, so dearly loves the ruler than even while hurrying away to do the ruler’s errand, the servant keeps looking at the ruler, loathe to let the ruler out of their sight. In this awkward form of movement, the servants doesn’t notice a hole, and falls right into it, all the way down to the bottom.

The hole is deep, and there is no ladder. The servant is trying to scratch their way back up, to continue the errand, all while berating themselves for their stupidity, “I should have watched where I was going, I’m of no use to the ruler now! How could I have done this! The ruler will be so disappointed! I’ve messed everything up again! Isn’t that just like me!”

The servant, trying again and again to climb out and failing, berating themselves silently, fails to look up and notice that the ruler is at the top of the hole, smiling kindly, and offering their hand to the servant.

God is often the one standing at the top of the hole in which we are berating ourselves, offering us a way out. Sometimes our own guilt, or the ways we berate ourselves, keep us from hearing God’s possibilities for our lives. In my own life, I have found that I really believe that God is capable of forgiving everything I do – but I’m not! Many times, instead of asking for God’s forgiveness (which I think comes automatically), I’ve had to ask God to help me forgive myself, so that I can move into the creative solutions that God offers.

This may be all the more important in community. The harms that we have done to one another in the past are imperative to recognize, but guilt rarely helps move anyone toward healing! Learning to acknowledge our individual and communal failings without dwelling in guilt and shame is another way of learning to walk – in grace.

Some of the work of learning to walk in grace is the work of self-forgiveness, and it is pretty important to make space for the goodness that God offers each of us. Truly, God is patient in teaching the people to walk – in grace. May we be patient with ourselves and each other in this process. Amen

–

Rev. Sara E. Baron

First United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305

http://fumcschenectady.org/

https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

July 31, 2016