Isaiah 5 begins with a very clear image.  “I will sing for my beloved my love song concerning his vineyard: My beloved had a vineyard on a very fertile hill” (v. 1).  Aside from singing to a beloved one, we definitely have a vineyard in view.

So guess what?  I started thinking of vineyards!

Certainly, there are places in the world noted for their vineyards and the wine produced by them.  Here are just a few: France, Spain, Italy, Germany (by the way, they’ve had a little success with beer), Chile, New Zealand, South Africa, and others.  Then there’s the United States.  Of course, the most celebrated wines come from California.  Other states make the list, including Tennessee.  There’s a winery less than ten minutes from my Mom’s house.

When we moved to the Empire State, we discovered there’s more than a few vineyards here.  Traveling on I-90 between Buffalo and Erie, PA, you will see some wine-producing country in Chautauqua County.  And then, the Finger Lakes!

[back to nature and a little strand]

When we served churches near Keuka Lake, there were vineyards opposite two places where we lived.  At one, the vineyard had gone back to nature, being overgrown.  At the other, there was a vineyard in operation.  We even had a strand of grapes behind the house!

So what does the prophet have to say about the vineyard and the expectation of fine wine?  There are some sobering words.

It seems the beloved took all the proper steps in planting the vineyard.  The beloved one “dug it and cleared it of stones…  planted it with choice vines…  built a watchtower…  hewed out a wine vat” (v. 2).  The preparations have been made.  Well, grapes have indeed grown, but they’re rotten.

With a sense of extreme exasperation, questions are cried out.  “What more was there to do for my vineyard that I have not done in it?  When I expected it to yield grapes, why did it yield rotten grapes?” (v. 4).

I can imagine one lover saying to another, “After all I’ve done for you, and this is how you repay me?”

I want to change gears for a moment and point some other notable examples of vineyards in the Bible.  In Psalm 80, we see a quick reference to Israel’s history.  “You brought a vine out of Egypt; you drove out the nations and planted it.  You cleared the ground for it; it took deep root and filled the land” (vv. 8-9).  It was glorious.  However, wickedness destroyed it.  There follows a plea for restoration and new growth.

In the gospels, Jesus tells the parable of the wicked tenants.  (I’m following Matthew’s version, 21:33-41.)  A rich man leaves them in charge of his vineyard while he travels far away.  When harvest time comes, he sends servants to collect the grapes.  The tenants beat and kill them.  They do the same when another group is sent.  The landowner then sends his son, thinking they will respect him.  They kill him, too!  Finally, the tenants are put “to a miserable death” (v. 41).

A similar fate of destruction is pronounced on the vineyard we’ve been considering.  Verses 5 and 6 contain some less than tasty consequences.  “I will remove its hedge…  I will make it a wasteland…  it shall be overgrown with briers and thorns…”  It sounds like the vineyard we lived near that had reverted back to nature.  At least the birds and the deer enjoyed it.

Here’s a nice final touch.  “I will also command the clouds that they rain no rain upon it.”  Now that’s harsh!

The passage on the vineyard ends with verse 7, and it has an exclamation of pain and perhaps missed opportunity.  It is set up with this preface, “For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel, and the people of Judah are his cherished garden.”

(Here’s an FYI.  Judah was the southern kingdom, and Israel was the northern.  They split apart after the death of Solomon, some two centuries earlier.  Israel was conquered by the Assyrians in the 730s and 720s BC.  The prophet Isaiah, who lived in Judah, was active during this time.)

The people of Judah are his cherished garden, or his pleasant plant—his delectable plant.

As you might know, I love to use puns, plays on words.  In that regard, I am following one of the finest and noblest scriptural traditions.  The Hebrew scriptures are chock full of puns, especially in the writings of the prophets.  The final line of verse 7 is a good, yet tragic, example.

He expected justice but saw bloodshed; righteousness but heard a cry!  It doesn’t really carry over into English.  It loses something in the translation.  It loses a lot in the translation.

The Lord expected justice— מׅשְׁפָּט(mishpat).  But the Lord saw bloodshed— מׅשְׁפָּח (mishpach).  Expected mishpat.  But saw mishpach.

The Lord expected righteousness— צְדָקָה(tsdedaqa).  But the Lord heard a cry— צְעָקָה (tse`aqa).  Expected tsdedaqa.  But heard tse`aqa.

That is the power of the pun.  At the same time, we have an example of the power of poetry.  Poetry can express a nuance, a surprising discovery, a reimagining that a more prosaic approach fails to convey.  It can express a wonderful and delightful turn of phrase, even a mind-expanding trip down the rabbit hole.

The rest of the chapter features a laundry list of social injustices, of ill-treatments of fellow human beings when fidelity to the Lord is cast aside.

It might be asked, considering the array of choices, why focus on just two verses?  When we read the Bible with earnest intent, it is a common thing to have words jump out at you.  Actually, it should be expected to happen on a not uncommon basis.

In this case, that applies to verses 18 and 19.  Here’s how it appears in the New English Bible.  “Shame on you! you who drag wickedness along like a tethered sheep and sin like a heifer on a rope, who say, ‘Let the Lord make haste, let him speed up his work for us to see it, let the purpose of the Holy One of Israel be soon fulfilled, so that we may know it.’”

Here’s how Eugene Peterson put it in his paraphrase, The Message.  “Doom to you who use lies to sell evil, who haul sin to market by the truckload, Who say, ‘What’s God waiting for?  Let him get a move on so we can see it.  Whatever The Holy of Israel has cooked up, we’d like to check it out.’”

If it hasn’t already become crystal clear, the folks hauling those carts are being chastised for their evil words and evil doings.  Sentences beginning with “woe,” “shame,” and “doom” usually aren’t followed by words we want to hear.  Dragging iniquity with cords of falsehood, dragging sin like one would do with a cart, can only be perceived as a failure of character—having a moral compass in need of repair, or at least a bit of tweaking.

However, is it possible to envision something a bit less dire?  Could dragging along that cart suggest another type of fault?

At least one thing I would propose it shows is an inability, or unwillingness, to release the past.  And that could comprise any number of things.  Perhaps we have become comfortable with how things have “always” been done.  I will definitely admit, change is not always easy.

Nonetheless, perhaps we become too comfortable.  One of the crazy things about comfort is we can even get used to the boring and the bad.  We can have a strange security in the insecure.  For example, we can expect—we can become familiar with—abusive relationships.  We might think we don’t deserve any better.

I want to use myself as a case study.

Our retirement from the Presbyterian Church (USA) presents a dramatic new chapter in our lives.  For 26 years, I have been a pastor in a parish setting.  It has provided me with a level of comfort.  That will be changing.

Certainly, different churches have their own qualities, their own DNA.  But my job description, for the most part, has remained the same.  Now, I can’t rely on the security of how I did things before.  Clearly, I have learned things along the way.  I will use them in the future.

Still, I am being asked to take a leap of faith.  It is both daunting and delightful.

I’ve been speaking of my own situation.  However, all of us have stories that are analogous in one way or another.  It might deal with family situations, career, moving to a different part of the country, a different part of the word, saying goodbye, saying hello.

It might deal with congregations.  As just noted, change is not always easy.  In fact, it can be scary or tedious or offensive—offensive in the sense of welcoming those we do not wish to welcome.  It can be a choosing to survive, or even to thrive.  Sometimes it might even call for dramatic decisions, a genuine leap of faith.  Such is the power of change.

There can also be impatience.  We might want God to hurry up, to speed up the process so we can see it.  We might say along with those the prophet is admonishing, “Let the plan of the Holy One of Israel hasten to fulfillment, that we may know it!”  God, get a move on!  I want to jump to the conclusion.  This in-between stuff is too messy.  Here’s an idea, Lord.  Why don’t you make the decision for me?

So we’re back to dragging that cart.

If we hang on to that cart, if we hang on to those ropes, it’s safe to say we haven’t been caring for the vineyard, which is the house of Israel.  It’s safe to say we haven’t been tending God’s cherished garden, which are the people of Judah.  To the extent we identify ourselves with the covenant of the Lord, that also includes us!  We haven’t been caring for ourselves the way God intends.

To the extent we hang on to that cart, that we hang on to those ropes, to that same extent we sin.  There’s something to understand about sin.  In both the Hebrew ( חָטָא, chata) and Greek (άμαρτανω, hamartanō) words, sin means “missing the mark.”  It means throwing the dart at the bullseye and winding up in the outer ring—maybe even missing the dartboard altogether.  It doesn’t mean we’re a bunch of irredeemable reprobates.

If it seems like all of this is too heavy a burden to bear, here’s some good news.  We have someone who will take the load.  Our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ, promises, “Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest” (Mt 11:28).  Jesus knew all about vineyards.  Tending them is hard work.  That’s true in the literal sense and in the symbolic, spiritual sense.

He continues, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (vv. 29-30).  And this, coming from the one who turned water into wine, and it was fine wine at that.

That last line, in which the people want the Lord’s plan to hurry up so they can know it, “know” has a special meaning.  It is “know,” in the sense of “experiencing.”  It’s not just head knowledge; it is knowledge appealing to all we are.  We must know God—we must know Jesus—so that we can more fully invite others to join the covenant family.  We can lend a hand in tending the vineyard with heart and soul.

I want to start today with a little story.  Here’s something from the “sorry if you’ve already heard this one” department.

A woman was leaving a convenience store with her morning coffee.  She noticed a most unusual funeral procession approaching the nearby cemetery.  A long black hearse was followed by a second long black hearse about 50 feet behind.  Behind that hearse was a solitary woman walking a very mean looking dog on a leash.  Behind those two were 200 women walking in single file.  The woman’s curiosity got the best of her.

She respectfully approached the woman walking the dog and said, “I’m so sorry for your loss, and I know this is a bad time to disturb you, but I’ve never seen a funeral procession like this.  Whose funeral is it?”

The woman replied, “Well, that first hearse is for my husband.”  “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to him?”  The woman replied, “My dog attacked and killed him.”  She inquired further, “Well, who’s in the second hearse?”  The woman answered, “My mother-in-law.  She was trying to help my husband when the dog turned on her.”

A tender and thoughtful moment of silence passed between the two women.  Then the one with her morning cup of coffee asked, “May I borrow your dog?”  The answer she received: “Get in line.”

And now we have the obligatory light bulb joke.  Question: How many mothers-in-law does it take to change a light bulb?  Answer: One.  She holds it in place, remains completely still, and waits for the world to revolve around her.[1]

(Sincere apologies to all you mothers-in-law!  I can honestly say that my dear departed mother-in-law gave me very little grief.  Of course, the fact that we quite literally did not speak the same language and lived on opposite sides of the globe might have had something to do with it!)

The book of Ruth concerns a daughter-in-law and mother-in-law whose relationship, far from being worthy of jokes, instead becomes an intimate friendship.  The story of Ruth and Naomi is one of both tremendous loss and of tremendous gain.  As we will see, Naomi has a very good influence on Ruth!

[photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash]

I consider the book of Job to be one of the world’s great pieces of literature.  Likewise, it’s been said of the book of Ruth that it’s “a perfect example of the art of telling a story.”[2]  It’s often referred to as a “novella,” a short novel.  Nobody really knows who wrote it or when it was written.

It’s possible it was written before the Jews were driven into exile by the Babylonians, in the 590s and 580s BC.  That might suggest the importance of establishing King David’s ancestry.  If it were written after the exile, the emphasis could be the importance of showing how a non-Israelite could be a devoted worshipper of the Lord.

These aren’t idle speculations.  Both of these ideas figure into the storyline of the book.

Something significant to take from the book is that Ruth rid herself of the shackles of the accepted structure.  She broke the chains.  She went against convention.  The same can be said of Naomi, her mother-in-law, her partner in crime, so to speak.

Besides Ruth and Naomi, there’s one more major figure in our little adventure.  That is Boaz, a wealthy relative of Naomi’s.  He eventually fulfills the law in Deuteronomy 25, which says that a brother (or in this case, a close relative) must take his brother’s wife if she is widowed, as Ruth was, and has no sons.  That way, the dead man’s bloodline can go on.

We are half way through the third month in the biblical year, Sivan.  The book of Ruth is traditionally associated with Sivan, in large part because it is the month with the holiday Shavuot.

Shavuot (or Pentecost) is seen as the day the Lord revealed the Torah to Israel at Mt. Sinai.  Torah is usually translated as “law,” but “instructions” or “teachings” probably better catch the spirit.  I like Naomi Wolf’s comment, that the “Hebrew Bible…is more about love and less about rules.  The rules are the guardrails for the love.”[3]

Here is a summary of the story of Ruth.  (It really is a very short book.  It takes less than fifteen minutes to read.)

A famine forces Naomi and her husband to go to Moab.  There they have two sons, who take Moabite wives, Orpah and Ruth.  Naomi’s husband dies, and soon after, so do her two sons.  The women leave for Judah.  Naomi tells her daughters-in-law to return home.  However, Ruth refuses.

She utters some of the classic lines in the Bible.  “Do not press me to leave you, to turn back from following you!  Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people and your God my God.  Where you die, I will die, and there will I be buried.  May the Lord do thus to me, and more as well, if even death parts me from you!” (1:16-17).

Upon returning to Bethlehem, Naomi utters one of the classic laments in the Bible.  “Call me no longer Naomi [which means “pleasant”]; call me Mara [meaning “bitter”], for the Almighty has dealt bitterly with me.  I went away full, but the Lord has brought me back empty; why call me Naomi when the Lord has dealt harshly with me and the Almighty has brought calamity upon me?” (1:20-21).

They are impoverished, so Ruth goes out to glean in the barley fields.  In case you didn’t know, gleaning means following the reapers after they have harvested the grain.  They gather whatever scraps have been left behind.  It is hard, tedious work.

Here’s where Boaz enters the picture.  As I said before, he’s a rich guy, but he is also kind.  He is a devoted follower of the Lord.  Ruth catches his eye.  He finds out she is Naomi’s daughter-in-law, and he learns her story.  He looks out for her and makes sure she is well treated.

Ruth tells Naomi about Boaz, and Naomi responds, “Darling, you just struck gold!”  Understand, being widows, they have very few options in their culture.  Naomi hatches a plan.  I admire her ingenuity, so I will quote it at length.

“‘Now here is our kinsman Boaz, with whose young women you have been working.  See, he is winnowing barley tonight at the threshing floor.  Now wash and anoint yourself, and put on your best clothes and go down to the threshing floor, but do not make yourself known to the man until he has finished eating and drinking.  When he lies down, observe the place where he lies; then go and uncover his feet and lie down, and he will tell you what to do.’  She said to her, ‘All that you say I will do.’

“So she went down to the threshing floor and did just as her mother-in-law had instructed her.  When Boaz had eaten and drunk and was in a contented mood, he went to lie down at the end of the heap of grain.  Then she came stealthily and uncovered his feet and lay down” (3:2-7).  Uncovering his feet could be a sexual expression, but being that Boaz is an honorable man, it might simply mean she’s available for marriage.

Whatever the case, Ruth was being ruthless.  Well, you know, “ruthless” in a good way!

And regarding the “contented mood” Boaz was in after eating and drinking, the Hebrew word[4] has also been translated “he felt at peace with the world.”  One couldn’t ask for a better starting point for Ruth.

As mentioned earlier, Boaz wants to make sure to follow the law in Deuteronomy 25—it is called the “levirate law.”  “Levirate” means “brother-in-law.”  Very often, the wishes of the woman were disregarded.  That makes it all the more important that Naomi’s scheme works!

The story has a happy ending.  Boaz and Ruth are married, and the son they have is named Obed.  His son is Jesse; and his son is David.  Think of the improbable chain of events that have transpired.  A famine results in refugees going to Moab.  Marriage and death lead to a return to Judah.  A chance encounter with a super wealthy man leads to marriage—and that to a foreigner.  David’s bloodline carries this unlikely sequence.  And by the way, Jesus as a descendant of David, has a lineage with even more twists and turns.

Samjung Kang-Hamilton, professor at Abilene Christian University, points out the importance of the book.  “One of the most amazing features of the story is that Ruth is not an Israelite at all, but a Moabite, a convert, an outsider.  But she becomes the model of the outsider who comes into the community and by her commitments, her love and trust and risk-taking, becomes a model for all within the community.”[5]

There are very few instances where a non-Israelite, a Gentile, is held up as an example of ardent faithfulness to the Lord of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Rachel.

She notes something from chapter 4.  “The elders of the people [in Bethlehem] welcome the Moabite woman into the community in an extraordinary way.  They pray that she will resemble the people’s ancestors, Rachel and Leah.  That is, they pray that she will be remembered in her own right as an extraordinary woman.”[6]

They extend their blessing to her.  Kang-Hamilton adds something to that thought.  “They pray that she will be like Tamar.  According to her story in Gen 38, Tamar acted in extremely risky ways to bring about justice and family harmony.  Yet the Bible recognizes that God can make something positive out of the messiest situations, we can be part of that cleaning-up process if we want to be.  Ruth was too.”

Something to be said of Boaz—we don’t know if he is a widower.  Was he ever married?  Yet, here’s this beautiful younger woman.  He no doubt feels a strong attraction, but he sees beyond outward appearances.  I think we all know women can be gorgeous at skin surface, but inside, not so much.  Obviously, the same can be said of the male of the species.

Ruth is the perfect example of the woman of strength [the woman of noble conduct] who is saluted in Proverbs 31 as “far more precious than jewels” (v. 10).

As noted earlier, Ruth rid herself of the shackles of the accepted structure.  She broke the chains.  Going back to the comparison of the word of the Lord being revealed at Sinai, so Ruth also receives the word when it is revealed to her.  That word gives her power.

We must be the same, when wave after wave of lies and desperation and counterfeit lives wash over us.  When we get used to one level of depravity, here comes another.  We need the word which gives us power over all that rot—gives us power over the rot threatening from within.  We need to be ruthless!

So take Ruth as our example of pressing forward and doing so vigorously.  See her, the great-grandmother of David, the one who was fulfilled in the Son of David, our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  Jesus the Messiah is the one who gives us the power to rid ourselves of the shackles of the accepted structures all around us.  Let us do so in the strength and the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

[1] www.motherinlawstories.com/mother-in-law_jokes_page.htm

[2] Dorothea Ward Harvey, “Ruth, Book of,” The Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, vol. 4 (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1962), 131.

[3] naomiwolf.substack.com/p/do-we-resemble-god

[4] יָטַב (yatab)

[5] Samjung Kang-Hamilton, “A Stranger’s Journey: Lessons from Ruth,” Restoration Quarterly 62:1 (2020), 49.

[6] Kang-Hamilton, 53.