Whose Land? Whose Community?
Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost
Many musical artists, especially those of the 20th century, have taken up the prophetic task through their art and performance. They have called out the United States for its collective short-sightedness, its empty worship (or, for those from a Christian background, their disordered AND empty worship), and its failure to live up to its perceived calling. Ironically, and yet perhaps appropriately, many Americans have either willfully ignored the biting criticism in this art, or dismissed it as a quirky part of the story. In reality, what makes these songs so powerful as prophetic works is how they manage to tell the full story, yet package it in such a way that is consumable to the masses. When I read the Isaiah passage this week, I cannot help but think of one such case.
Growing up, I had only ever heard the first two verses of Woody Guthrie’s classic folk hit “This Land is Your Land.” In true conscious blindness, these were the verses that were handed off to me and my peers, the verses that spoke only about how great the land was. Of course, this is the brilliance of Guthrie’s song, and why it finds its home so neatly in the prophetic tradition. Most of the song acknowledges the shared history and priorities of all parties. The common ground is blatantly evident. It is only in the details that Guthrie makes his appeal. The composer is not calling for destruction or even the decrial of what makes his home great. Instead, he is doing the much heavier and intricate work of calling his listeners to reimagine what such a great land ought to mean for all people, the task to which they belong as the people of this place. Like many, I later saw the famous photo with the sticker on the guitar, and I began to look more closely. For Guthrie, for this land to be for you and me, then we would have to reimagine what is meant by “land,” “you,” “me,” and even “and.”
The stakes at play in the Isaiah reading this week are not much different, as far as I can tell. The prophet makes an impassioned invitation, in the words given to him by the Lord, to the peoples outside of the assumed “inner circle,” the nation of Israel. Coming on the heels of the well-known plea in chapter 55, the prophet is helping both Israel and their neighbors to imagine what life in the Kingdom of God might be about.
It seems, if we are to take the words of the prophet seriously, that both Israel and the world around them have a lot to learn, both about how to live with each other, as well as how to relate to God. Isaiah 55, familiar to many for its vision of life possible in an anticipated Kingdom of God, offers an invitation to Israel as an already established but fraught people. They are a nation on the brink, who, in their history, have ever been looking to draw clear lines and act like one of the other nations. Isaiah’s invitation is to a vision of life together, one marked by nourishment, safety, life, and love. As always, Israel will be in covenantal relationship with God, and this invitation comes with a promise that God will not only be their God, but will also soon be the God of many others as well. (Isa. 55:5).
In the following chapter, the attention of the prophet turns outward, making an equally important yet often ignored invitation to the nations. This is not the first such invitation, nor is it the most consequential, but it does serve to teach the hearers of the prophet something about what God intends for how people organize themselves. As promised in the previous chapter, the invitation to shared life is now being made outside of the original covenant, and we would do well to notice what it is that God sees as being bound up in this invitation.
Immediately, in verse 1, we see themes of justice and righteousness as the ground upon which the Lord’s salvation will stand, and the prophet is clearly making the observance of justice and righteousness a crucial element to the life to which the nations have been invited. Of course, this is not unfamiliar territory for the prophetic office, or for Israel’s ears for that matter. The priority of the “works of mercy” in the ordering of communal life is well established for the people of God. As we see elsewhere, Israel is not always quick to observe this priority, despite its centrality to the scheme of God’s community. If the nations do succeed in this careful and counter-cultural prioritization, their worship, unlike those seen elsewhere (e.g. Amos 5), will be acceptable, fostering the kind of joy envisioned by those originally bound to the covenant. Life together, correctly ordered, leads to worship that is also correctly ordered.
Another key element of this invitation is Sabbath honoring and covenant keeping. It seems to be the case that God is not just inviting the nations as an afterthought, as a periphery addition to extend the greatness of God’s name. Rather, the invitation is to a life fully engaged and involved in the strange, upside-down living of the people of Israel. Whether or not Israel has done well to keep up with these distinctive ways of living, God has no qualms about saying the joy of life together is only possible if all are on equal footing with each other. In other words, the prophet’s speech here serves not to destroy what has already been established in Israel, though that may have been the more efficient or logical option. Rather, God’s invitation transcends the short-sightedness of zero-sum belonging to God, of the markings of an inner circle verses a fringe contingent. With this invitation, the One Lord is making possible the inception of new life together.
And so, we begin to understand the plight of the Canaanite woman. Her longing is a longing familiar to all of us, and should come as no surprise, because it is profoundly human. We are inclined to community, perhaps even designed for it. At the very least, the God of all nations has made an invitation for all people, that we might begin to see ourselves not as a stratified people, but as a belonging people. Not even the apparent words of dismissal from Jesus were enough to quash the burning desire for belonging that the woman felt. We should not be surprised, then, when the burning desire for life together takes hold of us. We praise a God who makes possible a house of prayer for all peoples, in faithful anticipation of God’s promise that they will one day be one people.