You have to see this text musically, even if you’re not musically inclined.
God is singing the blues here, sisters and brothers in Christ:
“I put all this work and time into this vineyard --
I dug it, cleared the stones, planted it with choice vines.
I built a watchtower, and hewed out a wine vat,
But it yielded wild grapes...
So I’m going to let it go, I’m going to remove the hedge and break down its wall, I’m going to let it be trampled, and make it a waste.
No more pruning, no more rain.
It yielded wild grapes.
This vineyard cheated on me! I expected justice but got blood shed, I expected righteousness got crying. I’m going to let it go. It yielded wild grapes.”
Can you imagine God singing the blues? I’m afraid you’ll have to, because that was atrocious! But you have to see this text musically, even if you’re not musically inclined. None of it rhymed or came off particularly sonorous. You have to use your imagination, and hear it in your head.
And know that much of it did actually rhyme in Hebrew, namely the part at the end: I expected mish-PAHT (justice) but got mish-PACH (blood shed). Tse-dah-QAH (righteousness) but got tse-’ah-QAH (crying).
God’s singing the blues. And when someone sings the blues to you -- the great thing about the blues, is you can relate at some level. I mean, not all of us have been cheated on, like a blues singer (or like God), but all of us have been let down.
And when someone sings the blues to you, they let you in...on that all-too shared story. Spend some time listening to blues music, real blues music from the South or from Memphis or Chicago. (I found a nice blues kitchen and Southern cuisine, called Proud Mary’s over by Kearny Mesa a few months ago.) Go there and feel the blues.
That’s the first step in getting this Vineyard Song of Isaiah’s.
There is deep heartache here. Great disappointment. Things didn’t turn out the way they were intended. Judah was supposed to be the crown of humanity, instead it became the dunce cap. They were supposed to be the bright, shining stars of God’s creation, instead they became dust on the shelf. They were supposed to be wine grapes, instead they were wild grapes -- sun dried, bug-ridden, bird-picked, wild grapes.
God is letting us into the story: we’ve all been let down.
As we look back on just this year together today, there’s been a lot of trampling, a lot of devouring, a lot broken-down, a lot of blood shed and crying, and a whole lot of drought.
Can’t you feel the blues that God is singing, also? We’ve got to sit in the pain before we get to the next part. I hated when my dad would put rubbing alcohol on my little bicycle injuries, before I got my superhero bandaid. The blues stings!
But it also soothes, in the end. God’s song continues and turns into a promise...
A shoot will come out from the stump of Jesse.
A shoot -- not a gun shoot, thank God -- a little sprig. A little vine. From a sawed-off stump of an old
shepherd’s father (Jesse was David’s father, remember). And do you remember how great David got? The king, the monarchy! Everyone thought that was IT, that was the tree we’ve been waiting for! But it all came crashing down. The kingdom was divided and assaulted by jealousy, violence, greed, invasion, and even a total obliteration. Thought it was all over. Thought it was too late. Thought hope was gone, justice was squashed, life was extinguished? But shoot will come out of the stump of Jesse. Out of all that brokenness and loss and heartache. Out of all that pain, and injury, through all those years and all those tears, a shoot comes out from the stump of Jesse. 
As we look back, remember that all is not lost. We have a shoot from the stump of Jesse. The tree is not dead, even though it’s been chopped down. The cross still stands. There’s still a bit of wine, a taste of bread, a splash of water...and that’s enough. There’s still an invitation to come and follow...
It’s a quiet invitation. Just a sprig of an invitation. You can barely hear it. There’s so much noise all around. There’s so much distraction and anxiety and fear, you have to turn down all that other music to hear it, but it’s there. “Come, and follow me,” comes a whisper.
“A shoot will come out from the stump of Jesse. A branch shall grow out of his roots. The spirit of YHWH shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. He shall not judge by what his eyes see or what his ears hear. He’ll judge the needy by what is right, render decisions on earth’s poor with justice. His words will bring everyone to awed attention. A mere breath from his lips will topple the wicked.” (The Message translation)
A shoot will come out from the stump of Jesse.
Sisters and brothers in Christ, everything we see does come to an end. Everything dies. All these buildings, all these so-called dynasties and multi-billion dollar corporations, even whole nations and governments eventually take their last breath. Even ours. And of course, we do too. Our own bodies will all go back to the earth. We want that to happen before it happens to our children, but tragically, it doesn’t always come to pass that way, does it? Everything will come to an end. The tree will be cut down, the vineyard trampled, the drought, the overgrowth of thorns and briars.
But we don’t have to be afraid of that...
Because of the one true vine that grows on.
Everything will come to an end...EXCEPT...God’s love. Which is for us. Which grows even now. In our world today. That love becomes incarnate through Christ Jesus, who is present with us, despite our finality; who loves us, despite our failings; who calls us again today, despite our turning away so often.
There’s actually another kind of song being sung here: it’s a song that’s rooted in pain, and yet reaching out in hope and joy. There’s actually another kind of song being sung here: it’s a love-song.
No comments:
Post a Comment