John 16: Birthing

As we've observed many times, no one was transcribing the conversations of a historical Jesus. The author of John often writes about the issues and experiences of his community and places predictive or instructive words in Jesus' mouth as a way of establishing authority. If Jesus said it, after all, it has to be right. The obvious problem, of course, is that nobody can even verify that there was a historical Jesus who matched the mythical character in the gospel narratives, much less verify what such a person actually said. Thus, the author of John uses the characters of the disciples in the story to provide additional validation. Toward the end of John 16, for example, the disciples are made to say, "We know that you know all things, and no one needs to question you," and so the reader is expected to believe what the characters in the story believe, through a sort of vicarious trust. It is not all that different from the readers of a Stephen King novel believing in vampires or ghosts because the characters in a fictional story encountered them.

We will set aside this sort of vicarious trust based on fictionalized accounts, even though there may be some historical basis for the account as the author of John recorded. Instead, we'll look at what the author of John wrote, keeping in mind that he and his community faced a great deal of hardship and persecution from the Roman Empire. (We won't get into the myriad causes of that persecution.)

As John 16 continues from the promise of an internal guidance system, the author of John has Jesus speak cryptically about the disciples not seeing him and then seeing him, and pain that will turn to joy. Then, the author has Jesus promise the disciples that anything they request in Jesus' name will be granted to them. Finally, as the chapter closes, the author asserts that Jesus has conquered the world. Let's take a look at these three aspects of this passage in more detail.

How Not to Be Seen

The bits about seeing Jesus and not seeing him and then seeing him again are even written as confusing enough that the disciples in the story don't understand it. Some would read this passage as foreshadowing for the resurrection story, and it certainly makes dramatic sense to view it that way. In this case, it is a literary device that is more or less useless to us in terms of practical application. There is something else here, however, that may point in a different direction. The author compares the experience of the disciples to that of a mother giving birth. Some commentators read this bit as a reference to the earth giving birth to the resurrected Jesus, or some other reference to a rebirth of the Christ figure. Just reading the passages indicates that this cannot be what is intended. The disciples are the ones in pain, and they are the ones who will metaphorically give birth to something that will bring them joy.

Perhaps the author is writing about the birth of the Christian sect, that the disciples will give birth to a new movement within Judaism and away from Judaism that will bring joy. The author of John didn't have the advantage of seeing what monstrosities religious organizations can become when they have power, but rather saw the command of Jesus to love radically as a game changer from previous religious traditions. This idea to love one another first and foremost is what conquered the world for the author of John. So, if the disciples are giving birth to a new religious movement, the author is writing from an optimistic perspective that hasn't been entirely borne out in the history (and current reality) of the Christian church. Certainly, a global political powerhouse designed to control a population through shame and fear does not seem like something that would bring its creators joy. Maybe I just don't find joy in the same things as some other folks. 

What if the author is not thinking in terms of a global political powerhouse designed to control a population through shame and fear, though? What if the author was thinking in terms of how people and communities grow and mature? We considered in the first portion of John 16 that the Jesus character had to disappear in order for the disciples to take the responsibility of living into his example of radical love. When the Exemplar is around, doing all the work, taking all the risks and responsibility, life is pretty easy for the followers. When they are suddenly faced with doing the work of radical love themselves, becoming personally responsible for living into the principles they have embraced, life can become a little more challenging. Painful even. But that sort of commitment to integrity pays big dividends in terms of personal satisfaction and joy. And that joy originates from an individual's own innermost being, so it cannot be taken away by anything external. And that intentional life of integrity has influence that reaches beyond the individual.

The author of John may be envisioning what he hopes for his community -- that they take seriously the example of radical love exemplified in their image of Jesus and that they take personal responsibility for living by that example, even when it seems difficult and painful. Then, his community would see Jesus again, not because of any sort of miraculous return, but because they had each become a living embodiment of radical love -- each one of them an Exemplar for others to learn from and imitate. Maybe conveying these ideas directly seemed less effective than contextualizing everything in the Jesus myth, but somehow many people have glossed right over any suggestion of personal responsibility in the author's words.

In Jesus' Name

The apparent guarantee about receiving from God anything asked for in Jesus' name hasn't done anything to bolster a sense of personal responsibility. People read these promises from the author of John, placed in the mouth of the Jesus character, and they draw all sorts of conclusions about the magical formula of prayer. (For the sake of ease, let's define prayer here as petitionary -- asking a supernatural for something. All prayer may not fit into this category, but petitionary prayer is really what we're talking about.)

Some people even today believe that their financial, physical, emotional, and social well-being are ultimately dependent on their faith and their prayers. Some people even today believe that when something undesirable happens in their lives, God is punishing them or testing them. It would be a lot easier if passing the test involved taking more personal responsibility and trusting the advice of competent professionals, but usually passing such a "test of faith" seems to involve trusting or waiting on God to act on one's behalf. It's rather like being passive aggressive toward an imaginary supernatural, but doing it with an attitude of abject dependence.

I grew up in this sort of culture, in which prayers were believed to be answered directly by the supernatural, and I have the benefit of experiencing life on both sides of this belief. Now, with over a decade of prayerlessness under my belt, I can attest that life is better without prayer. What I may have expected God to do for me before, I now recognize as my own responsibility. Some things are beyond my control, of course, and for those things I can seek the advice of competent experts. Some things are even beyond the control of competent experts, and in those instances I can hope for a desirable outcome, realizing that it doesn't mean anything one way or the other about me or how acceptable or worthy I am. I know that things will go the way I want them to just as often whether I pray to God (in Jesus' name or otherwise) or I pray to my toaster -- I will get the experience of a Yes, No, or Wait answer regardless of the object of my prayer. In which case, why pray at all? 

I'm not sure how many believers read this commentary, but if there are prayerful people reading along, here is an experiment that you can conduct in your own life: Stop praying for two months. See how things go. Continue to be mindful, meditate, and be introspective if you like.) Also be aware of your own temptation to self-sabotage your life. Not relying on God to solve your problems for you means that you have to take responsibility for your own life. Try it for two months straight and keep track of your good days and bad days, your tragedies and celebrations. Then go back to petitioning God for two months. Keep track of your good days and your bad days, your tragedies and celebrations. Is there a difference? If so, maybe your experience of prayer has something to it that I never experienced. If the practical reality of your life is essentially the same whether you pray or not, maybe you would want to reevaluate your expectations of prayer.

In any case, we should also consider what it means to ask for something in Jesus' name. We have no idea what this may have meant to the author of John. Maybe he believed, as some people still do today, that one's prayers must include the words, "in Jesus' name," in order for them to be effective. As we have observed before, this is the very epitome of magic. If I do the right things, say the right magic words, make the right symbolic gestures -- Poof! I get the results I want. Such prayers are just a Christian version of magical incantations. Maybe that fits with the cultural beliefs of the late first century. 

Maybe the author of John had something else in mind, though. Maybe asking for something in Jesus' name is another way of saying, "If you are following the example of Jesus, if you have his heart and his mind, if you are walking in the way of compassion and radical love, the things you wind up desiring will flow naturally from that way of being." Maybe the author of John is even suggesting, "If you have the attitude of the Exemplar, and you recognize your own power in your life, you can accomplish things you never dreamed possible."

Conquering the World

Whatever he meant, though, the author follows up by directly admitting that much of the words he attributes to Jesus are figures of speech, in other words, not to be taken literally. He legitimizes the scattering of the disciples with predictive statements of Jesus (written over fifty years after any scattering might have occurred), and then he has Jesus proclaim that he has conquered the world. Indeed, some segments of the church do seem in many ways to still be on a crusade to conquer the world and make everyone behave the way certain religious leaders want them to behave, but the author of John had no clue how imperialistic and politically powerful Christianity would become. What could he have meant by asserting that Jesus had conquered the world?

Most likely, the world is a metaphor here for the widely accepted cultural and societal assumptions about what matters most and what gives life value. Today, we might interpret the world as the glorification of capitalism, the perceived importance of having an expensive home in an exclusive neighborhood and all the toys and entertainment devices one can possibly grab. The world may be the perceived separation of people based on skin color, ethnicity, gender identity, or sexuality. The world is certainly the idea that wealth and power make life more worthwhile, that the promise of wealth and power are worth any sacrifices necessary. 

Jesus in the gospel of John is also a metaphor. The Jesus character is an exemplar of radical love that places people and community as more important than possessions, an exemplar of fully inhabiting one's identity and deriving satisfaction from living authentically rather than from living according to an externally derived set of criteria, an exemplar of engaging in building relationships and focusing on human connection rather than engaging in building empires and focusing on stockpiles of useless distractions from the messiness of human connection. 

Perhaps the author of John believed that people would recognize the futility of the socially perpetuated myth of wealth and power if they experienced the fullness of human connection and authenticity available to people. Perhaps he believed that people would be wise enough to choose what is deeply meaningful and satisfying in life over what is ephemeral and fatuous. Millions of people seem not to be wise enough even to understand that this is the choice before them. 

Here is an opportunity for clarity in your life. No supernatural is going to do the things for you that are your responsibility to do. All of the wealth and power in the world will not make your life more satisfying; these things just bring different kinds of anxieties. Your willingness to prioritize building connection within yourself and with the human beings around you is the key that unlocks meaningfulness and satisfaction in life. Your willingness to grow into greater authenticity with confidence is what allows you to transcend the pettiness of living from distraction to distraction until you're put in a box. Connection and authenticity can be painful, more painful than the numbness of being disconnected and irresponsible. But along with that pain comes the opportunity to give birth to something amazing -- You.

Isaiah 27-28: Authentic Hope

We're going to push through to Isaiah 39, which recounts the illness and naivete of Hezekiah that we saw in 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles (about a year ago now). It seemed like a good idea to intersperse the books of prophets with the "historical" books that most clearly connect to them, but given the time it takes to get through a book like Isaiah, this may have been an ill-conceived plan. Still, we'll cover everything eventually, so we may as well continue through the break in Isaiah.

That being said, there's an awful lot that has already been said about the content of Isaiah, with the people of Judah seeing themselves and their religion as superior to all others, without much evidence on which to base that opinion. Isaiah 27 clearly expresses one of the main purposes of this book: to offer hope to people in a pretty hopeless situation. Isaiah 28 balances this with the assertion that hope has to be genuine and sincere in order to be meaningful. Clearly, the author(s) of these chapters believed their own words to be sincere and honest.

It's worth mentioning yet again that there is obvious figurative language going on here, particularly with regard to the sea dragon that Yahweh will kill with his "cruel" sword. Most folks will not look at this and assume an actual sword or an actual sea serpent. A great percentage of the Bible is written in this sort of figurative language, and yet for some reason, many people want to take as much of it as possible literally. Don't be over-simplistic when you read mythology or other ancient writing. Look for the meaning underneath the words and you'll learn a great deal more about the people who wrote the words.

In Isaiah 5, the imagery of a vineyard is used to suggest that the Israelites have fallen short of their calling to create a just and righteous society. This imagery is used again in Isaiah 27 to suggest that all is not lost. There is still hope. The authors forecast a time when Yahweh will guard Jerusalem and there will be no competitors to the city. Fortified cities will be ruins useful only for grazing cattle. If anyone opposes Yahweh in that time (produce something different than what he wants from his vineyard), he will destroy those people. Otherwise, everyone will have a splendid time.

What Yahweh apparently wants from people is a society built on justice, but the authors are also clear that Yahweh wants exclusive adoration as the people's supernatural. Everyone who goes against this monotheistic mandate will be destroyed. So, this idea of creating a just society is not because it will be better for everyone, but because direct assault from the deity will be the response to anything less. This hopeful vision has dark implications. This is not a vision of a time when everyone will get along peacefully because there is greater understanding, this is a vision of a time when people will have peace by force, when the supernatural will take direct action against those who act differently. This is fascism, pure and simple, with a supernatural in the role of supreme commander.

No wonder that the authors desired a different sort of flawless leadership. Isaiah 28 suggests that the religious and political leaders were of little use to the people. They spent their time in drunkenness and lies, and when they had any words of hope to offer, those words were hollow. The chapter indicates that suffering at the hands of enemies is punishment from Yahweh that has a fruitful purpose. However harsh the punishment, it would not last forever, and eventually the people of Judah would be of some use. They would be beaten into usefulness. Of course, this is not a message to individuals, but to the people as a collective. An individual life might not see any purpose behind the suffering, but hope lies in the story of one's people, not in one's personal story.

It is unfortunate that passages like this have been twisted and interpreted into a perverse exaltation of suffering. There are those who believe that suffering makes a person more holy or more honorable, that the experience of suffering is somehow useful in and of itself. Even worse, there are those who believe in a supernatural who desires that people suffer, because they are being purified for some greater work. This is complete rubbish. While it is true that some people come out of experiences of suffering strengthened and determined to do great things, there are many more people who simply suffer, reaping no benefit from the experience. Suffering happens, and some people are able to make sense of it and turn that experience into an asset. This should not be held up as an ideal, however. Needless suffering is not a blessing or a gift.

Moreover, suffering is never something that we should inflict on others, with the expectation that it will make them stronger. There is no supernatural glorification in human suffering, and there is no supernatural who desires human suffering. We experience suffering, and there are potentially some words of hope that can help us through that experience, even help us draw strength from the experience, but those words are not, "God wants you to suffer." Especially those words are not, "God wants you to suffer because he has something great in store for you." Not only is such a claim trite, it is dishonest. There is no god in control of our suffering or in control of what happens in the wake of our suffering.

Often natural processes cause suffering. Nature is unintelligent and has no emotional impulse toward people, so there is no greater meaning to natural suffering. Sometimes people get sick. Sometimes people are caught in an area of natural disaster. It is possible that people can make meaning from the suffering they experience, but the experience itself has only the meaning that we give it.

Other suffering is caused by human action. Some people inflict suffering on others. This is the sort of suffering that we might set our sights on ending. Most of the time, fear is the emotion behind suffering inflicted by human beings, not the tough love of a supernatural. Human beings do horrible things to one another, and it isn't part of a divine plan. People commit atrocities when they give their fear control. Again, we might learn to draw some personal strength from our experiences of suffering, but there is no greater meaning or message than what we give it.

Of course, some will claim that suffering through the pain of surgery is necessary for healing in some circumstances. Suffering the experience of childbirth is necessary for life to continue. Suffering through difficult classes is necessary for the process of learning to take place. Yes. Fine. Draw the definition of suffering as widely as you like. The authors of Isaiah were writing to people who were besieged by foreign armies to the point that many people starved to death or at least considered eating their own children. They had no place to put the bodies of those who died from lack of food or water, and there was no efficacious way to treat the diseases that erupted in a city when it swelled with all of the people who sought refuge in its walls. When the siege was finally broken, many survivors were enslaved by the conquering army, taken to a foreign land with a foreign language and a foreign culture to live out the rest of their days. Their entire lives were shattered. Isaiah says that this was because Yahweh had a plan. He caused this to happen because he was crushing them like grain for bread. This is not a palatable message of hope.

We do not have a supernatural who is going to take control one way or the other. No one will be exacting punishment or crushing us for greater usefulness, and no supernatural will be standing guard over us as we grow into just and compassionate people. There is no real hope in that myth. The real hope is with us. We are the hope of the human story, as individuals and as a collective. Our potential to act in a way that brings justice, equity, and compassion is hope for others. In our own lives hope lies in the understanding that things do not have to be as they are. Hope also springs from the recognition that no one deserves suffering. Our worth and identity are not based on the suffering we endure. Every person has inherent worth and dignity just by virtue of being human; the rest is a matter of experience.

Things do not have to be as they are. This is true in our personal lives as well as in larger systems of power. Whatever suffering that exists in the world because of human action, there is a way to address this suffering. When the government of Uganda recently passed a law against their LGBT citizens, the Quakers established a New Underground Railroad to get people out of immediate danger. This is one small example, but think about your own community. How many organizations exist to help alleviate systemic suffering? From solving the problem of homelessness to ending human trafficking, there are people collaborating right now to build a better world than what we see today.

This is perhaps the most important message of hope: We are stronger together. People are relational, and while we value our individuality, we can accomplish great things when we work together. No one deserves suffering, and yet we can only touch a small number of lives as individuals. When we join our voices and our strengths with others, however, we can become much more powerful forces for justice, equity, and compassion. Our ability to cooperate and collaborate offers profound hope.

Thus, in our own lives, we can be confident that we do not deserve suffering, that there is nothing about our worth or identity that makes it necessary for us to suffer. Our individual suffering does not have supernatural origins or purpose, but we can choose to give our experience meaning. In the lives of others, we can also be confident that suffering is not deserved. When we are able to have an influence in alleviating the suffering of another, we can be vessels of hope. When we stand and act together with others, we can embody hope on an even larger scale.

Compassion for the Moabite Refugees in Isaiah 16:1–12

Often, where the prophets of Hebrew scripture criticize injustice in Israel or Judah, they are referring to the leadership of those nations. Only a minority of people had the power to create policy, the authority to influence how other nations responded to the Israelites, and the wealth to steer the course of Israelite culture. In Isaiah 16, the oracle against Moab describes a scene of massive adversity in that nation, yet while the words of Isaiah pronounce judgment on the leadership of Moab, they prompt compassion for the refugees—the common people of the nation who suffer because of the poor decisions of their leaders. These words may tell us something of the perceived relationship between Judah and Moab, and they also offer some insight regarding a universalized sense of political responsibility that held the powerful accountable while recognizing the powerlessness of most people, regardless of their nationality. If the words of Isaiah are thought to be meaningful for twenty-first century readers, they perhaps hold some judgment against prejudice in personal life and in political decisions, as well as admonition for compassion toward refugees and aliens seeking greater safety and better living conditions.

For the purposes of this inquiry, focus will be on Is 16:1–12. As Kaiser and others observe, 16:13–14 are obvious additions to the text.[1] Although the oracle clearly begins in Is 15:1, it is in chapter 16 that one reads of an appropriate response by the intended audience of the text. Some repetition of material exists between the two chapters, and the oracle does not necessarily flow as well as some commentators would prefer, which has led some to conclude

that the text of this oracle was assembled from several previously existing poems.[2] Hamborg suggests that some of the more sympathetic material here may be Moabite poetry that the author of this oracle co-opted, transforming a sympathetic plea into a statement of judgment.[3] While this is possible, the theory does presume some unknowable characteristics of the author of Isaiah 16 (as does Hamborg’s overall conclusions). Since no source poems for Is 16 and Jer 48 are extant, any discussion about their use for this oracle is pure conjecture, although the existence of Nm 21:27–30 is provocative. It is clear that portions of this oracle appear in Jer 48:29–38, although nothing from Is 16:1–6 appears in Jer 48. There are many possible explanations for this, including that (a) Isaiah in some earlier form (with 16:1–6 not yet part of its composition) was in the hands of the author of Jer 48, (b) common previously existing material was used for both Is 15–16  and Jer 48, (c) original portions of Jer were omitted by a compiler, or (d) material from Jer 48 was added to Is 15–16 at some point. No evidence to support any of these theories exists, however, and thus it must be enough that the commonality between these two oracles against Moab is recognized.

Another problem with placing Is 15–16 is that much is still unknown regarding Moabite history. Conflicts with Moab are reported in 2 Kgs and 2 Sm, and it is known that “at the end of the war against Syria and Ephraim the Moabite king Salamanu appears among the tributaries of the Assyrian emperor Toglash-Pileser III.”[4] However, Moab was involved in several conflicts as a subject of Assyria and later as a subject of Babylon, such that several incidents could have sparked a mass flight of the victims of violence from Moab into a neighboring nation. Unlike the oracles of Ezekiel, Isaianic oracles do not reference specific political events; instead, the leader of Moab is accused of arrogance (16:6; cf. Jer 48:7, 27, 29 –30), an accusation that might be reasonably leveled at any leader of any nation at some point, but one consistently aimed at Moab in the Hebrew scriptures (cf. Ez 25:8–11; Am 2:1–3; Zep 2:8–11). Hamborg interprets the sin of pride as a general thoroughgoing motif in Hebrew prophetic oracles, and he specifically sees the oracles in Isaiah as expressions of disapproval for Judah’s alliances with other nations.[5] Hamborg’s evidence, however, is unconvincing (although a greater body of evidence may have been amassed since); at the very least, the oracle against Moab clearly represents events, in which Judah was not involved, happening to the nation of Moab. While opinions may vary as to what the oracle recommends as Judaic response to the refugees from Moab, it is obvious that Judah was not involved in the events that resulted in the Moabites’ flight.

There is a common ancestry between Moab and Judah, according to biblical genealogies, however. Kunin notes that when peoples share genealogical closeness with the Israelites, ideological differences are magnified by the Hebrew scripture.[6] For Kunin, it is significant that the Moabites were “of the same generation as the Israelites and born without the mediation of a concubine.”[7] Over time, the Israelite attitude toward the Moabites shifted from negative to more neutral, as indicated by a Talmudic weakening of the commandment in Dt 23:3, which forbade Moabite converts to Judaism (Ber. 28a; Yeb. 69a; 76a). There is thus a sense that the Moabites became less ideologically problematic for Judah over time, although the Israelite perspective never turned entirely positive toward the nation of Moab.  

The oracle against Moab begins in Isaiah 15; as it continues in 16:1, the refugees of Moab are clearly not safe in their own land. They are counseled to send a tribute ahead of them to the leader of Judah (Is 16:1). Fleeing to the southern border of Moab, refugees will be like a flock of inexperienced birds, scattered from the safety of their nest (Is 16:2). The verses that follow this colorful description of the Moabite flight are placed in quotes in most English translations, and it may thus be unwarranted to suggest that the author of this passage is advising Judah to comply with the requests of these refugees. Given the subsequent assurance that the eventual reality in Judah will be an end to extortion and oppression, and a rule based on tender benevolence, justice, and righteousness (Is 16:4b–5), it does seem that the words of Isaiah bend in the direction of compassion for those who are fleeing extortion, oppression, and injustice. If this is accepted, then the author of this passage may be seen to instruct the people of Judah to welcome the refugees from Moab, to shelter them from the harm inflicted on them by their leaders’ poor decisions, because it characterizes the justice and compassion that will one day reign in Judah.

In this instance, then, when the author of this passage refers to Moab in 16:6 and 16:12, the leader of Moab is the individual critiqued, while in verses 7 and 11, “Moab” may refer to the entire people of the nation. On the other hand, if one envisions a supernatural who can be both responsible for a city’s (or a people’s) destruction and saddened to the point of drenching the city in bitter tears, one might consider that supernatural also capable of having a mournful heart about a leader who wearies himself at ineffectual tasks (16:11).

Other place names within this passage may refer to sites of actual upheaval, or they may be symbolic. Kir-hareseth was a fortified city, a significant landmark in Moab from Judah’s past interactions (2 Ki 3). Although Heshbon had been possessed by Ammon and Israel at various points, its occurrence here and in Jeremiah’s oracle against Moab suggest that the city was under the control of Moab at some time as well (Jer 48). Similarly, Sibmah was at Mount Pisgah, near Heshbon and near Moab’s borders with Ammon and Israel, which may have shifted many times over the course of biblical history (Jo 13:8–23). Nm 32:37–39 suggests that the Israelite tribe of Reuben built these two cities, although this may be an exaggerated ethnocentric account. Jazer was also a city that had been in the control of Ammon at some point, and it played a significant role in Israelite history (Nm 21:23–33; 32:1– 36; Jo 13:25; 21:38–39; 2 Sm 24:5; cf. 1 Chr 6: 80–81; 26:31); like Heshbon, it is mentioned as a city of Moab in both Isaiah’s and Jeremiah’s oracles, indicating that the border city also changed hands. Much later than this passage in Isaiah, Judas Maccabeus captured and burned the city of Jazer, according to Josephus (Ant. xii. 8, § 1). Elealeh was another city in this collection of border communities in the northern area of Moab, mentioned in both the Isaiah and Jeremiah oracles against Moab (Jer 48); it too changed hands between Ammon, Israel, and Moab (Nm 32:1–39). 

Since all of these cities are clustered in northern Moab, in an area that was potentially contested between Ammon, Israel, and Moab, it may indicate something about how connected the nation of Judah and the nation of Israel were at the time this passage was written. It is noteworthy that the beginning of this oracle in Is 15 mentions a collection of communities in the south of Moab. One may wonder whether Moab faced violence on all sides, or whether these passages were originally addressing different events altogether. Whatever the case, the author of Is 16 seems to have no sense of vindication regarding these communities, but expresses compassion for the people who flee to the south, toward Judah. The author portrays the deity Yahweh as weeping bitterly,[8] drenching the cities with his tears (16:9); his “heart murmurs like a harp for Moab” (16:11), reminiscent of the minstrel who accompanied Elisha’s prophecy regarding Moab in 2 Kings 3:15.

The refugees from Moab are the victims in this scenario. The leader, whoever it may have been in the historical context of this oracle, was too proud for his own good—too arrogant for the good of his nation (16:6). This accusation is almost identical to that of Jeremiah 48:29, followed by wailing and mourning (Jer 48:31–33), just as the accusation is followed in Isaiah (16:7–11). Any details about the manner in which this arrogance was displayed in practical reality are not specified, presumably because the reader would already know such details. Most likely, the destruction of Moab on which this oracle comments was at the hands of the Assyrians, but there is no indication here regarding the relationship between Moab and Assyria. It is clear, however, that the leader of Moab prays to an ineffectual deity (16:12), which spurs criticism from this prophet of Judah. It is curious that Yahweh was no more effective in protecting the Israelites; they had to evolve their theological understanding of their supernatural in order to make sense of their circumstances. In a later age, one might caution the prophet to tend to the plank in the eye of his own people primarily rather than pronouncing judgment on all of the neighboring nations.

That 16:4b–5 promise a future righteous leader on the throne of David may perhaps seem like poor consolation for the fleeing Moabites is one reason that some commentators believe that this passage is stitched together from other pre-existing poems.[9] Perhaps it is congruous with the overall context of Isaiah, considering that all the nations are anticipated to one day stream to Jerusalem for wisdom from Yahweh (Is 2:2–4). One must also consider that the prophetic words were not missives to neighboring countries, but rather to the leaders of Judah. In addition to making sense of their own circumstances, they needed to understand the circumstances of the peoples around them in terms of their evolving theology. Moreover, this oracle is not intended to provoke jeers for Moab, but rather to embrace the refugees from that country with compassion, as if the prophet is saying, “at a certain level, these people are just like us, except that we will have nowhere to run.” The words of 16:3–4a are thus not merely a report of what was cried out by the fleeing population of Moab, but a command to the people of Judah: Welcome these people who need your aid; do not deny the fugitives hospitality. As Kaiser points out, the Moabites were “seeking the status of a gēr, a protected person, which was associated with permission to reside in a foreign country (cf, e.g. Gen. 15.13; Ruth 1.1 and II Sam. 4.3).”[10]

One indication that the thrust of the passage is to incite compassion for these refugees is the sense of sincere lamentation at their plight (16:6–11). As Brueggemann notes, “the listener is called to wail with Moab.”[11] Long finds similarities between the form here (perhaps intended to be the words of Yahweh) and the form of funeral lamentations throughout the ancient (and modern) Near East.[12] Although the speaker of the words of grief is not made known, if the assumption in all of the oracles is that the prophet is speaking on behalf of the supernatural, then here it is Yahweh weeping and drenching the refugees of Moab with his tears. Lalleman also finds the Isaianic oracle against Moab to be more of a long lament, while the oracle against Moab in Jeremiah intersperses lament words with “many threatening words of judgment and doom.”[13] From Long’s perspective, there is a trajectory of development of such passages, beginning with a lament that is not attributed to Yahweh (because of a cultural understanding of Yahweh that prohibited divine laments in this form) and progressing through theological developments such that “at a later stage of development this restriction was lifted to allow Yahweh to utter funeral laments—but only with overtones of taunt, threat, and punishment.”[14] One might note even further nuance if one recognizes the distinction between the leader of Moab and his subjects; the divine may weep for the innocent and the oppressed while exacting brutal judgment against an arrogant and ineffectual leader.

Kaiser seems to miss the overall context of the Isaianic eschatology, however, when he suggests that 16:6 is exclusively a taunt to the people of Moab, and that 16:4b–5 conveys a situation that is exclusive to Judah and of no benefit to the Moabites. He sees the oracle as entirely future tense, imagining that one day, the Israelites will have their idealized righteous ruler—with the accompanying peace and justice in the land of Judah—and that the Moabites who seek refuge will be turned away.[15] Aside from overlooking the prediction of Is 2:2–4, Kaiser assumes a rather tribal and localized eschatology for the Israelites. Either his interpretation of justice and peace is limited and ethnocentric, or he believes that the Isaianic interpretation of justice and peace was limited. Johnston sees 16:4b–5 in the context of “Judean subjugation of Moab,”[16] which has some historical precedence, although certainly not under the conditions of supreme justice and peace that 16:4b–5 heralds. Goldingay interprets something slightly different from subjugation when he connects Isaiah’s oracles against the nations to Is 24–27, in which it becomes clear that “the nations’ destiny in relation to Yhwh is thus not so different from Israel’s destiny.”[17] Everyone will eventually be gathered under the banner of equity, justice, compassion, and righteousness if Isaiah’s vision of the eschatological future holds true. On the other hand, perhaps Kaiser is correct to assume that Israel’s response to Moabite fugitives in 16:6 was intended to be a taunting refusal at the border, with a hubris-laced, “We’re all set here; sorry your king is so incompetent,” in which case the underlying lesson that pride comes before a fall would be ironically two-fold. Twenty-first century readers have nothing to gain from this oracle if that is the case, since it would then be a prognostication that proved to be inaccurate for a people that no longer exist. Perhaps Brueggemann’s insight is appropriate, that although just cause for the suffering of Moab is understood, “this song of grief is not interested in blame. The costs and hurts are too massive and acute for moralizing.”[18]

Even if the text is taken as an admonition toward compassion, there is no common situation by which twenty-first century Americans can connect with the initial audience for this text.[19] America is the Assyria of the situation in Isaiah 16, conquering with wealth and technology, in addition to military action where it is efficacious. There is something of the perceived character of Yahweh in Isaiah 16 that should alarm those in the developed world who consider themselves godly, and yet long for secure borders and the continued conservation of wealth. Even though the leader of Moab is misguided, arrogant, and devoted to an ineffectual supernatural, the plight of the people of Moab still prompts compassion. Yahweh expects his representatives to offer justice, refuge, and wise counsel, not because the asylum seekers can offer something of value, but because they are beloved human beings. From a certain perspective, one might say that the Moabites were made as much in the image of God as the Israelites. 

When one sees that the Yahweh of Isaiah 16 is against oppression and against self-indulgent destruction of others, one must find wanting foreign policies and practices of corporations that exacerbate systematic poverty and hinder multidimensional well-being (shalom). When one sees that the Yahweh of Isaiah 16 favors leaders who demonstrate mercy, seek justice, and are swift to do what is right (or what leads to multidimensional well-being), one must conclude that the political leaders of America, and perhaps other countries of the developed world, are often not nearly as godly as they would claim. With specific regard to the attitude toward fugitives, if one wishes to apply the mindset of Isaiah 16 in the twenty-first century, one must at least promote open borders and open access to housing and healthcare. Given the global nature of humanity in the twenty-first century, one might well extend such efforts beyond the artificial borders of a nation and strive to support—at the very least—the accommodation of basic human needs for all people, regardless of geography, culture, or religious tradition. The implications of this passage, however, are that God will establish a new paradigm of leader, just as God is ultimately responsible for the destruction wrought by Assyria. If one believes that God alone will accomplish what he wants in his own timing, then there is nothing to be accomplished by human action and twenty-first century believers are justified in abdicating responsibility to their supernatural. Some might also posit that, if a supernatural has not effected a sustainable society of justice, equity, and compassion over the course of more than 3000 years, perhaps it makes more sense to devote human efforts toward solving human problems.

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1. Otto Kaiser, Isaiah 13–39: A Commentary, The Old Testament Library, ed. Peter Ackroyd, et al, tr. R.A. Wilson (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1974), 60.  

2. This is the conclusion of G. R. Hamborg, “Reasons for Judgement in the Oracles against the Nations in the Prophet Isaiah,” Vetus Testamentum 31, no. 2 (1981), 150. ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials, EBSCOhost (accessed Feb 11, 2014). Kaiser mentions others who have drawn this conclusion, Isaiah, 60.

3. Hamborg, “Reasons,” 151.

4. Kaiser, Isaiah, 63.

5. Hamborg, “Reasons,” 145–59.

6. Seth D. Kunin, “Israel and the Nations: A Structuralist Survey,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 82 (Mar 1999), 19. ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials, EBSCOhost (accessed Feb 11, 2014).  

7. Ibid., 33. 

8. Even Oswalt finds it “tempting to see the person being referred to [in Is 16:9, 11] as God, since he is clearly the referent in verse 10.” John N. Oswalt, The NIV Application Commentary: Isaiah, The NIV Application Commentary Series, Terry Muck, ed. (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2003), 224.

 

9. Kaiser, Isaiah, 71.

10. Kaiser, Isaiah, 72.

11. Walter Brueggemann, Isaiah Vol. 1: Chapters 1–39, Westminster Bible Companion, Patrick D. Miller and David L. Bartlett, ed. (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1998), 144.

  

12. Burke O. Long, “Divine Funeral Lament,” Journal of Biblical Literature 85, no 1 (Mar 1966), 85. ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials, EBSCOhost (accessed Feb 6, 2014).

13. Hetty Lalleman, Jeremiah and Lamentations, Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries 21, ed. David G. Firth (Downer’s Grove: InterVarsity, 2013), 286.

14. Burke, “Lament,” 86.

15. Kaiser, Isaiah, 72–73.

16. Philip S. Johnston, “Faith in Isaiah,” Interpreting Isaiah: Issues and Approaches, ed. David G. Firth and H. G. M. Williamson (Downer’s Grove: InterVarsity, 2009), 112.

17. John Goldingay, “The Theology of Isaiah,” Interpreting Isaiah: Issues and Approaches, ed. David G. Firth and H.G.M. Williamson (Downer’s Grove: InterVarsity, 2009), 183.

18. Brueggemann, Isaiah, 145.

19. Oswalt suggests that “cruel Death will make us all refugees in the end, leaving all we have on the road to be pillaged by those who come after us,” (Oswalt, Isaiah, 227). Oswalt misses the fact that refugees actively seek refuge, something that the dead cannot do. Is 16 clearly places some people in the position of seeking aid and others in the position of being able to grant it; although the people of Judah would be driven from their own land as well, that was not the reality in mind for the author of Is 16. Personal theology can be a profoundly limiting lens through which to read  a text, as Oswalt demonstrates when he claims that “in this world the only certainty is death and loss,” (Oswalt, Isaiah, 228). One must at least acknowledge that life must precede death and that gain must precede loss, thus the certainty of death and loss assumes the certainty of life and gain; where one chooses to focus and what one chooses to celebrate are personal choices.

Isaiah 18-20: Visions of a Different World

The oracles against Ethiopia and Egypt in Isaiah 18-20 are more of the same kinds of prophecy as other proclamations against nations around Judah. The author of these passages predicts that Ethiopians will bring gifts to Yahweh's temple in Jerusalem, and that Egyptians will be plagued with infighting, drought, and eventually a harsh king. Later, the author claims, Egypt will experience mercy from the Israelites' supernatural, and several cities will be dedicated to Yahweh. Egypt and Assyria will be alongside Judah, reconciled and claimed as Yahweh's chosen people. The short passage that follows depicts Isaiah's sign-act of walking around naked for three years, interpreting that act to symbolize the captivity of Ethiopia and Egypt.

Scholars have a difficult time with these oracles, because there is no apparent place in known history that can match up with the implied events of the prophecies. Some aspects and details may seem to have relevance, but then other details would be out of place. This limits the application of the text as a historical testament of events or as an accurate forecasting of events that were yet to happen when the oracles were written. Since it's obvious that some editorial work has been done to create the existing versions of the book of Isaiah, some scholars attempt to rearrange passages to get a more accurate or sensible account. None of this work has any bearing on whether one can find meaning in the passage for life in the twenty-first century. If passages like this are about historical events, then their usefulness is exclusively past tense, since the events they describe either happened or failed to happen centuries ago. If one insists that the predictions are simply to demonstrate the power and authority of the Israelite deity, one must take into consideration that it's not clear that all of what is predicted here ever came to pass. In addition, a reader who already has a theistic bias doesn't need a passage about ancient nations to serve as evidence for God's power and authority, and a reader who doesn't have a theistic bias won't be convinced by the vague (and in some cases inaccurate) predictions of this passage.

A we've seen before, there are some problems with assuming that God is responsible for military conquests and natural disasters. Although the authors of Isaiah and other prophets had their reasons for seeing their supernatural as head over all nations' war efforts, they didn't understand the ramifications of their claims. They saw their society as unjust, with the wealthy and powerful neglecting their responsibilities toward the poor and disenfranchised. They saw their society as immoral, offering disingenuous religious sacrifices while they maintained systems of greed and self-indulgence. A foreign army at their doorstep was a clear indication to these prophets that Yahweh was unhappy, and that he was going to use whatever means were at his disposal to effect the  curses for disobedience proclaimed in the Sinai covenant. These same prophets trusted that Yahweh would also gladly bless the Israelites, if the people fulfilled the supernatural's expectations.

One cannot maintain a view of a god worth worshiping and also insist that such a deity was at the head of every military and ordaining the decisions of every government. It was fine motivation for change that the Israelites saw Yahweh behind their exiles, because in doing so they understood something about how their society had failed its own people. They also had the luxury of seeing their god behind their return from exile. In our time, we would have to see God as the one who ordained the many genocidal acts of the twentieth century, some of which continue in parts of the world today. We would have to see God as the true commander who ordered atomic bombs to be inflicted upon thousands of non-combatants in Japan. If God is the kind of deity depicted in Isaiah and other prophets of Hebrew scripture, all atrocities of war can be justified by a simple acknowledgment that the people who suffered or died did not live up to the demands placed on them by a supernatural.

The authors of Isaiah weren't necessarily off-base regarding what they wanted for their society, and even for their neighboring societies. This passage on Egypt has some pretty favorable predictions for what Yahweh will eventually do for that nation. The view of society's potential presented in Isaiah places justice, equity, and compassion high on the list of desirable qualities, and it sees these qualities as attainable by a people, particularly the people in charge. The authors may have been displaying a perspective that their supernatural was superior to every other nation's, but they were equally critical of their own people for failing to live by the standards that supernatural had set for them.

Israelite understanding of their agreement with Yahweh was not unlike other treaties between unequal powers in the Ancient Near East. The more powerful entity essentially tells the less powerful entity, "This is what you're going to do, and this is what I'm going to do." Basically, if the less powerful nation does everything that that the powerful ruler demands, then they get the benefits of the arrangement. However, if the less powerful nation fails to do everything the powerful ruler demands, then the curses of the treaty were valid responses by the ruler. There were perhaps phrased in colorful and symbolic terms, but essentially the ruler would take military action against the disobedient weaker subjects. That's how Israel and Judah saw their relationship with Yahweh. The supernatural said, "Here are my demands. Meet them and live prosperously; fail to meet them and die."

Through all of this proclamation of doom though, there is an undercurrent of hope. Isaiah 19 forecasts a future in which peaceful relations and unity exist between nations, at least between Egypt, Assyria, and Judah. This is a bit humorous, considering Judah's insignificance as a political power. Egypt was the seat of the previous empire, and Assyria was the seat of the current empire. Perhaps the prophet was hopeful that Judah would be the seat of a future empire; such a vision of the future is certainly suggested by other passages in Isaiah. Of course, that never happened, and it isn't likely to happen. The basic gist of that future alliance, though, was that justice and peace would be the rule rather than the exception. The vision of an empire ruled by Yahweh was that it would be the sort of place any person would want to live: where no one would go hungry, and no one would be afraid (Micah 4:4).

The values are a bit inspiring. The way the authors of Isaiah thought it would happen is a bit disappointing. They didn't think that people were actually capable of creating such a reality. They asserted that their god would make it so. Perhaps one could say that, just as Yahweh was seen as the primary actor when a foreign army swept in, Yahweh can also be seen as the primary actor when people make decisions that lead toward peace and justice. The tendency, however, is for people to abdicate responsibility for creating peace and justice. If we do not place the responsibility on a supernatural, perhaps we place responsibility on the government to make the kind of world we most want to live in. We may laugh at the suggestion, but that doesn't change our expectations.

There is, of course, another way of seeing the covenant promises and curses without assuming the existence of a supernatural. However the ancients thought of their world and society, they understood intuitively what characteristics and practices helped a society thrive and what characteristics and practices tore a society down. That their supernatural does not exist has no bearing on the value of justice, equity, and compassion. The view toward a world in which people are safe and have enough is still an inspiring vision. Human beings have to take responsibility for their actions in order for our reality to approach that vision.

God is not at the head of the military; human beings are. God is not in control of who has wealth and power; human beings are. God doesn't commit war atrocities; human beings do. God doesn't effect genocide; human beings do. God cannot respond compassionately to the world; human beings can. God is not capable of creating justice and equity; human beings must.

Whatever our vision of the world is, we are responsible for moving toward that, even if our only sphere of influence is our own lives. When we set aside fear, I suspect that most of us want the same kind of world, and I suspect that we value the same sorts of things that the prophets valued: justice, equity, and compassion. Aside from irrational fear, why wouldn't we all want to live in a sustainable world where no one went hungry and no one was oppressed? If that is our most noble vision for the planet, that is what we are called to create. We aren't called by some supernatural outside of ourselves; we call ourselves by the values we hold. When you set aside fear, what is your vision for the world? What will you do today to bring your life a little bit closer to that vision?

Isaiah 15-16: Contextualization and Imagination

Recently, I've been accused of taking out of context some of the biblical passages on which I comment. This is a charge worthy of discussion, given the nature of books like Isaiah. Let's consider the context of Isaiah 15 and 16, for instance, in which some predictions are made about Moab, a nation neighboring ancient Israel (Judah) to the east. Moab and ancient Israel were not often friendly with one another, as we have seen in the way Moabites are represented in the Genesis narrative and in the myth of the Israelite conquest of Canaan. Genesis mocks Moabites as descendents of Lot and his incestuous daughter, which would mean that the people of Moab have a common ancestry with Abraham and his children. Some archaeological evidence also points to conflict between Moab and ancient Israel, with the Mesha Stele proclaiming Moabite victory over one of the sons of Omri (9th century BCE).

Within the context of the ancient world, then, there is some evidence that the people of Israel had political reason to foster some prejudices against the people of Moab. The Moabites also held different religious beliefs than the Israelites. There is some mention of Moabite worship in 2 Kings, in which they are accused of human sacrifice to Chemosh. Then again, Solomon built a site dedicated to Chemosh too, and that site remained until Josiah's reign in the late seventh century BCE. (So, people in and around Jerusalem were apparently engaged in Chemosh worship during the time that the prophet Isaiah was alleged to have written these early chapters of the book that bears his name.)

Contextually speaking, honest readers must acknowledge that the Hebrew scriptures represent particular biased points of view by particular people in particular circumstances; these writings cannot be assumed to objectively represent the culture of their neighbors. Unfortunately, we have very little objective evidence about Moabite religion. It can be said that they were polytheistic, like most of their neighbors. Archaeological evidence indicates that, in addition to Chemosh, the Moabites revered the goddess Ashtar-Chemosh, and the god Nebo, which may have been the Babylonian god Nabu. The Israelite authors of biblical texts obviously expressed consistently negative opinions about these religious practices, based on the Israelites' beliefs about their own god.

This is a tricky statement to make, however. The Bible does not reflect a consistent impression of Yahweh, but rather suggests the growth and development of a belief system over time. As the people of Israel continued to experience different circumstances, their ideas about their god had to develop as well. The alternative would have been for them to abandon their religion and take up other practices, and there is some evidence that people did just that on more than one occasion. It's a major theme for some of the prophets, at least. So, Israelite belief about Yahweh is not an inflexible concept that leapt fully-formed from the minds of the earliest religious practitioners. We can see throughout the Hebrew scriptures that their religious concepts evolved over time.

That being observed, one cannot simply assert that there is a fixed context within the Hebrew scriptures. The writings were composed and assembled over centuries, and they reflect centuries of development in terms of thought and practice. Some attempts by later editors and compilers were made to harmonize the material, but even that process is something we can't accurately discern. The book of Isaiah, for example, claims to be the work of a prophet who lived in the last half of the 8th century BCE (based on the kings named in the first sentence of the book). Later portions of the book contain details about events that happened two centuries later, and then some. Some people would like to claim that the same person wrote the entire book, having been gifted with supernatural foresight by a supernatural. This would be a reasonable claim if we had any copy of the text from the 8th century BCE, but we don't. Most scholars believe that the book is the work of at least three separate authors writing at different times, along with an unknown number of scribes and editors.

What we have of the book of Isaiah is a completed version dating from the early 1st century BCE. This version shows obvious signs of editorial work, but it's impossible to trace the 600+ year journey of the material from inception to our earliest extant copy. We simply cannot know how the material developed, and we may not ever be able to know. In a very honest sense, this means that we cannot know with complete assurance the context(s) within which the material was written, nor can we know how many pens were involved in the process. Moreover, the different ancient copies of Isaiah that we actually have are not identical. There are over 5000 differences between the most "reliable" versions of the book of Isaiah.

The Bible as an overall whole is what some people prefer to consider as context--the canonized works that men approved as authoritative expressions of their faith. This could prompt the question: Which canon is the appropriate context? The Hebrew canon was determined over a few centuries from around 200 BCE to 200 CE, but there are still variant canons among Ethiopian Jews and the descendants of Samaritan Jews. The Christian canon was supposedly fixed by 350 CE, but variations exist all over the world. Eastern Orthodox canons differ from the Roman Catholic canon. Oriental and Assyrian Orthodox canons differ from one another, as well as from the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic canons. The Protestant canon has some major differences with all of the Catholic and Orthodox canons. So, when one speaks of the "biblical context," one is already speaking of something rather subjective.

Most people, including the people who determined various canons, develop an idea of what they believe first, and then they assess their scriptures accordingly. People formulate ideas about God, and then they latch onto supporting scriptures (or other data) and dismiss all of the information that disagrees with what they have already decided. For instance, some people have decided, completely apart from scripture, that it's immoral to sell their daughters. The Bible doesn't tell them this, but they interpret the parts of the Bible that refer to selling a daughter as being antiquated and no longer applicable to them. In some parts of the world, in the twenty-first century, people are still selling their daughters into slavery. Based on biblical testimony, there's some support for their actions. If we wish to confront the practice of selling one's daughters into slavery, we can't do so on the Bible alone. We must rely on some additional moral understanding. We rely on our personal perspectives every time we read anything, but especially when we read scripture.

Accusing someone of misrepresenting the context, then, may mean nothing more than, "I disagree with you." It just sounds more damning to suggest that someone has made a grievous error of interpretation rather than to merely state a difference of opinion. Millions of people claim to believe in the Bible without going through the trouble to define what they mean by that. The Bible cannot be completely morally accurate, because it is not completely morally consistent. The Bible cannot be completely historically accurate, because it internally conflicts with itself and it externally conflicts with evidence. The Bible cannot be completely spiritually accurate, because its depiction of divinity develops over time as the beliefs and circumstances of the people who composed it changed.

When someone says they believe in the Bible, then, what must they really be saying? My suspicion is that they have developed a set of beliefs, and they read the Bible through the lens of those beliefs. For those portions of the Bible which can be read in support of their beliefs, they consider the Bible authoritative. For those portions of the Bible which seem to contradict their beliefs, they discover or create justification to ignore what is written. Add to this a coating of self-assurance, indignation, or superiority whenever one's assertions about the Bible are questioned, and a rather tidy illusion has been created. It seems to be a biblical context, since support can be found in the Bible, but it is actually a context created by the individual's imagination, since personal beliefs have the ability to trump what the text actually says. There is no way to deny that this is the reason for a multiplicity of denominations and sub-denominations within Christianity. If everyone went with exactly what the text said, wouldn't every Christian believe exactly the same thing?

Of course, that is a trick question framed a bit dishonestly. The sad truth is that one must formulate beliefs external to what the Bible says, because the Bible says such a great many things that do not fit neatly into one system of beliefs. There is no secret formula or correct answer to determining how to interpret biblical texts accurately. Some of it is simply the result of a great number of people writing things from their own perspective. Some of it was only relevant to the particular culture in which it was composed, and it cannot have any real meaning for people who are not members of a pre-scientific patriarchal monarchy. There is no single biblical context. There are lots of people with individually developed beliefs looking at texts and drawing the conclusions they prefer.

This is, in fact, one of the reasons I undertook this commentary in the first place. If we want to draw some wisdom from any text, we have to engage it from an honest perspective. Part of being honest involves recognizing that there is an objective reality in which we exist, and that objective reality is going to be what it is, whether we like it or not. If we try to reject reality, we create problems for ourselves and the people around us. Imagining something different doesn't change what is. If we recognize reality and align our own values and intentions with what is, we stand a much better chance of creating the lives that we most want and having a positive influence on the people around us. Within the context of reality, no person has been able to make consistent accurate risky predictions about the future. Within the context of reality, no god has ever been demonstrated to be observable by any objective means. Within the context of reality, the (approximately) 4.3-billion-year-old earth goes around the (approximately) 4.6-billion-year-old sun, and life has been evolving on this planet for (approximately) 3.6 billion years. Within the context of reality, human beings behave as they do for natural reasons. Human beings wage war for human reasons, and human beings can create peace for human reasons.

So, Isaiah 15-16 in its context? The Moabites were another little Ancient Near East nation that was around before Israel as an Egyptian vassal state and most likely fell during the Persian Empire in the 6th century BCE. The Israelites didn't like the Moabites because they were different, most specifically in terms of their religious practice. The authors of these passages of Isaiah, being a little more ignorant than we are today about the way that the world works, saw every event as being ordained by their supernatural, which they naturally thought of as superior to every other supernatural. Yet, the general message is for the Israelites to be hospitable to the Moabites fleeing destruction at the hands of the Assyrian army (late 8th century BCE).

These neighbors of Israel would most likely have been treated like illegal immigrants are often treated in the United States today, and yet the prophetic words are to shelter them and mourn with them. Perhaps the Moabite king, seen by the authors of Isaiah as arrogant, has made Moab a target by allying with Philistia, Judah, and Edom to revolt against Assyrian ruler Sargon II (r. 722-705 BCE). Or perhaps this is written in reference to the Moabite king Salmanu paying tribute to Tiglath-Pileser III (r. 745-727 BCE). As previously mentioned, the precise historical context is impossible to discern; these passages may actually refer to multiple historical contexts, as Isaiah 16:13-14 may indicate. These last phrases seem very much like the addition of a later scribe.

In any case, it's obvious that the authors see no hope for Moab's prayers to be answered, because they are praying to the wrong god. This is interesting, since Yahweh wasn't any more forthcoming in sparing the Israelites from being conquered and taken into captivity. If Yahweh has justifiable reason for allowing his people to be disciplined by foreign powers, might not the gods of Moab have been displaying equal power in the situation? It's interesting how the same ideas that we use to bolster our own belief systems, we also use to mock the beliefs of others.

We all have biases, and yet we can work toward objectivity. To say that we all bring our own beliefs and perspectives into a situation is not grounds to throw up our hands in futility. Knowing that we have biases helps us see how those biases may be affecting our perception, and we can perhaps conduct an experiment or two to see whether what we believe is congruent with reality or if our beliefs are more products of our imagination. The Israelites had obvious biases against the Moabites. They probably looked at them as lesser human beings. Although Isaiah doesn't come out and say so, the words admonishing Israel to compassionately welcome Moabite refugees challenge the people's biases against Moabites. They were fellow human beings, worthy of compassion, even if they were praying to ineffectual gods. Perhaps these words were an attempt to contextualize the presence of these strangers flocking across Judah's borders.

There's nothing we need to know about Moab that will make any difference in our day-to-day lives. We don't need to know about Chemosh or Yahweh or any other god in order to create meaningful relationships and lives. What we might draw from these chapters, though, is the idea that there are still people around us who are suffering as a result of other people's actions. There are refugees of all manner and stripe around us every day: from actual immigrants, to people who are seeking refuge from domestic violence, to people who are suffering economically. We can imagine stories about these people that will keep us from feeling any obligation toward them--

They deserve what they get...

If I give them a little bit, they'll just want more...

They don't really want to work for a better life... 

We can imagine stories about ourselves that will keep us from feeling any obligation toward them--

I have to take care of myself first...

It's not my problem...

I don't have anything to offer... 

Or we can engage our compassion, see human beings of inherent value, and treat them accordingly. There doesn't actually have to be any sense of obligation in that at all.

Honestly, all of the people around us are our context. They are part of our reality. We can imagine whatever we like about the world in which we live and the lives we lead, but the reality is that we share this world with a lot of other people. Some of those people make a difference in our lives that we may not even recognize, and we can make a difference in other people's lives whether they recognize it or not. We don't need a religious book or a contrived belief system to know that people matter to one another -- we matter to the people around us, and they matter to us. We can choose to be more discerning about the difference between what things we have good reason to believe and what we just like to pretend about ourselves, other people, and the world we share. The sharper we are willing to be about these things, the greater our opportunities to build a better world.