Entering the Vineyard’s Gate
Comparative commentary by Kimberly J. Vrudny
Believers make choices everyday about the God they will follow—the One who calls us to our better angels, or the One who endorses our worst. Isaiah 5, written in the form of a love song, aspires to our better angels insofar as it affirms that God desires justice for the poor and oppressed, and to our worst, insofar as it suggests that God acts through instruments of war to punish people for moral failure.
According to the song written by the one whom scholars refer to as ‘First Isaiah’, the Lord of history allowed the Assyrians to destroy Israel because it had ‘despised the word of the Holy One of Israel’ (5:24). Written during a period when the Northern Kingdom was under threat by the Assyrians who ultimately swept in and conquered it, the prophet attributed YHWH's approval of Israel’s destruction to the people’s sinfulness. This is the episode memorialized in the Assyrian relief, which celebrates its nation’s military prowess with ceremony and pageantry. To the victor goes the spoil.
But unlike the Assyrians who celebrated their victory, Israel, the conquered ones, wondered whether God had abandoned them. To this question, the prophet’s answer was a resounding no. God had not abandoned them. Rather, God had handed them over to their destruction because they had not maintained their covenant with him by practising justice. In Isaiah 5, Isaiah situates all of this in the allegorical language of a vineyard that fails to bear fruit.
Maybe what is wise in the text is an acknowledgement that suffering, destruction, and dislocation arise as a natural consequence of injustice. But this is not the whole of Isaiah’s theology. Isaiah also believes that God controls history, and that it was God’s doing to raise Assyria up for the punishment of Israel.
In his painting Creation of Wartime III, Samuel Bak demonstrates precisely why this theology of the prophet Isaiah can be found wanting. What kind of a God punishes a population through war? What kind of a God uses the forces of Israel’s enemies to penalize them through the exercize of destructive power? The distant setting of ancient Assyria makes the vindictive theology in Isaiah seem plausible if not palatable—but the context of Nazi Germany during the Second World War illuminates the horrors of such an interpretation of God’s involvement in human history. Would God empower such agents as these to punish anyone for unrighteousness, even for injustice? Should such a God be worshipped? Is such a God worthy of praise?
Bak invites his viewers to think about these questions. His work suggests that it might be preferable to believe that such a God doesn’t exist (indeed, has never existed). The space from which God was once imagined relating to humankind from the heavens—now a negative void delineating God’s absence—invites contemporary viewers to think about what image of God might adequately fill it.
Like his ancient predecessor, and as an observant Jew, Jesus must have had Isaiah’s love song in mind when he told the parable of the workers in the vineyard, as it expresses a theological imagination similar to Isaiah’s—that the Kingdom of God is like a vineyard that ought to produce the fruits of justice and righteousness. Jesus imagines the vineyard to be maintained by a manager who is reckless in generosity for those who contribute to its creation, whether they labour all day or just a little. Rembrandt’s imagination follows Jesus’s in picturing what responses this recklessness might awaken. Leaving aside the question of the fate of those who never enter the vineyard, or those who enter but allow the vineyard to spoil, Jesus focuses on a vineyard that thrives. Because they reap what they sow (Galatians 6:7), everyone benefits from a society that is more just. The Kingdom of God is like that, Jesus teaches.
Considered together, the images of the relief celebrating Assyrian victory over Israel, Bak’s image of a more recent episode of destruction, and Rembrandt’s painting depicting Jesus’s prophetic parable, raise before faithful ones the question about which imagination they are living into: the shrivelled vineyard Isaiah laments, or the lush vineyard Jesus envisions. Jews and Christians, alike, worship a God who, finally, desires justice for the poor and liberation from oppression. Will we enter such a vineyard, or will we plant ourselves outside its fences?
References
Friedlander, Saul. 2008. Nazi Germany and the Jews, 1939–1945: The Years of Extermination (New York: Harper Perennial)
Vrudny, Kimberly. 2016. Beauty’s Vineyard: A Theological Aesthetic of Anguish and Anticipation (Collegeville: The Liturgical Press)