Let’s pay a visit to old Jerusalem. The period is early in the reign of King Ahaz. The main factors in the situation are the two mighty empires of Egypt in the south, and Assyria far to the northeast.
Egypt has had its ups and downs; dynasty has succeeded dynasty, some strong, some weak, but a great power it remains, thanks to the overflowing Nile, which has made Egypt a granary of the world. Fortunately for Israel, its southern neighbor has in the main been non-aggressive.
Assyria is a different and newer factor. True, it is far away, but of late it has been showing signs of a very dangerous, enterprising spirit. The king, Tiglath-Pileser (abbreviated to Pul in 2 Ki. 15:19), has been an insatiable conqueror, like those carnivores that kill, not to eat, but for the joy of killing. He has annexed north Syria. He has already taken tribute from the kings of Damascus, Hamath, Tyre, Menahem of Samaria, Judah, Edom and Moab.
Thus all the buffer states between Assyria and Judah are showing signs of weakness. Unfortunately, if Egypt and Assyria come to blows, the road by which they must get at one another lies through the territory of Judah.
However, at present, there is no active trouble threatening from either Egypt or Assyria; the pressing dangers are nearer home. The present king of Samaria is the enterprising Pekah, son of Remaliah, who has murdered Menahem’s son and succeeded him. He is now planning to invade Judah in company with Rezin, king of Syria. It looks as if they will be much too strong for Ahaz.
We travel through the country towards Jerusalem, and notice that it seems fairly prosperous. We pass numerous large estates, evidently belonging to well-to-do owners. The fields are well cultivated, and the hillsides are covered with vineyards and cucumber gardens, each with its lonely-looking little stone shack for the watchman (Isa. 1:8).
But a glance at the peasantry, herded together in miserable villages, reveals another side of the story. Their mouths are full of bitter talk against these rich folk who have filched away their small holdings from them, either by fraud, debt, or violence, to add to their estates (Isa. 5:8). It is useless to seek redress. The judges are all in the pocket of the rich landowners; your cause is laughed out of court if you can’t bribe those who rule there (Isa. 1:23, 33:15; Mic. 2:2, 3:11). The land-laws are all against the poor man, and the scribes who keep the court registers are all in league to cheat him (Isa. 10:1-2).
The landscape is beautiful and variegated. In the wilder parts there are high bare hills, often capped by some small edifice which we cannot at this distance identify. Some of the valleys are narrow, deep, and stony; others are well-wooded.
A nearer acquaintance with these places, however, proves to be revolting. The edifices on the hilltops are idol shrines or altars, each with its wooden or stone image. Sometimes there is a tree hung with votive offerings, and a circle of boulders encloses the sacred area. The paths entering the thickets lead us to more shrines and images, little brick altars for incense, stones for pouring out libations upon, and tables for feasting.
True, in some cases the people assure us that these sacrifices are intended to honor Jehovah, but many only recognize some obscure local deity or some Phoenician idol. (Papyri of the Jewish colony at Elephantine, dating from the 5th century bc, show evidences of an extraordinary mixture of Jehovah-worship and idolatry.)
It doesn’t make much difference. The meat laid on those heathen tables is often swine’s flesh, or other abominable things. And in the dark depths of that valley, under the clefts of the rock, are the mounds of newly-turned-up earth where they have buried what was left of their own slaughtered infants slain to propitiate Moloch in some day of adversity (Isa. 57:5-7, 66:17; 2 Ki. 16:3-4).
One godly old villager, with passion and solemnity, tells us of a great prophet at Jerusalem, Isaiah by name, who has pronounced the doom of the Lord for these things: “Of a truth many houses shall be desolate, even great and fair, without inhabitant; yea, ten acres of vineyard shall yield one bath (instead of the normal 500), and the seed of an homer shall yield an ephah (Isa. 5:9-10).
Let’s go on to Jerusalem. That, at least, is under the shadow of the temple, which Solomon built for the Lord. There the priests and prophets of Jehovah are congregated. But we soon find that town and countryside are all alike. As they are remote from the woods and hills, they worship their Nature-gods in their town gardens; under a tree, the same altars are set up for the same ritual (Isa. 1:29, 66:17). Even the cemeteries are pressed into service, and the valley of the son of Hinnom is the best-known place for the infant sacrifices. The king, himself, has used it for that purpose.
The same loud and only too well-founded complaints are heard of injustice, bribery, violence, and lying. No man dare trust his neighbor. Even murder of the poor is common and has no remedy. The rich grind the faces of the poor, flay the skin off them by their extortions, and, figuratively speaking, break their bones, chop them in pieces, and put them in the pot (Isa. 1:15, 3:15, 33:15).
Down the street come two men whom we can at once recognize by the white robe of the one and the hairy garment of the other as priest and prophet respectively. But they are walking very unsteadily, and as they pass us it is evident that they are both much the worse for liquor. We glance at the apartment from which they came out, and are disgusted to see that the tables and floor are full of vomit and filthiness, so that there is no place clean. If the priest and the prophet behave thus, what can we expect of the people? (Isa. 28:7-8; Heb. shaghu–reel from intoxication; ta’u–go astray).
These are the men; are the women any better? Here come two daughters of Zion. Wealthy, careless, flippant, very much overdressed, and thinking mostly about their clothes and the impression they are making, they come mincing down the street, throwing languishing glances in the direction of all the well-to-do young men they meet. There is no overlooking them; the little bells on their ankles, tinkling as they walk, appeal to our ears and draw all eyes. They are covered with ornaments of gold and silver; rings, chains, pendants, crescents, mirrors, earrings, nose jewels, amulets, and bracelets. What a display! The shawls, headdresses, and gowns of fine white linen would furnish the wherewithal to keep a poor family in the back streets for a year (Isa. 32:9, 3:16-24).
The poor man in his cottage is not always very fair in his judgments of the rich, especially if he has a grievance. Perhaps we should call at one of these good houses and see for ourselves. But the great man and his lady do not improve on acquaintance. The house is furnished with wanton display and luxury; lord and lady are reclining on silken cushions spread on priceless ivory couches, listening to the music of the viol and other instruments, chanting and singing, but they have undeniably taken too freely of the wine in their costly goblets and bowls. Their bodies are fragrant with ointments. The most delicate meat, veal, and lamb is on the tables before them, yet the whole scene is not an edifying one. They care nothing for the fate of the nation (Amos 3:12, 6:4-6; Isa. 28:1).
We will try the shops in the bazaar. It is possible for a nation to be morally rotten, and yet show a certain respect for ordinary commercial integrity. The keeper of the stall is quite a prosperous man. But when we ask him to weigh up some goods, and have a close eye to his proceedings, we become suspicious. He will not let you look carefully at his balances, nor does he respond to the invitation to show that they are true. And the wheat he wants to sell is wretchedly poor in quality. We recollect hearing a fragment of a sermon recently preached by a prophet: “Can I be pure with the wicked balances, and with the bag of deceitful weights?” (Mic. 6:10-12; Amos 8:4-8).
Let’s see how it fares with the Temple of Jehovah. There, at least, we expect to find piety and righteousness. We approach it from the south, and enter the Great Court. Entering this, we are face to face with the magnificent front of the Temple itself, with the two brazen pillars, about forty feet high, standing before it. The building itself of white stone, looks in the sunlight like a mountain of snow.
But, to the indignation of the older, conservative Israelites, the king and the high priest Uriah have recently pushed Solomon’s altar to the north side of the court, where it stands neglected, and a new altar copied from a heathen model at Damascus has taken its place. Also, Solomon’s laver has been taken down from the backs of its twelve brazen oxen, and laid on the ground.
In spite of its architectural glory, the building and annexes look undeniably shabby. True, there are plenty of worshippers, at least on a feast day. The processions are quite imposing, and the animal sacrifices without stint. “Is not the Lord among us? No evil can come upon us,” is the pious refrain they sing (Mic. 3:11).
But the very men who are so forward at the temple are morally no better than the rest, and just as ready to go to sacrifice at some idol shrine. In fact, beneath the very shadow of the house of the Lord are certain groups of dwellings where all the nameless vices of the East are practiced in the name of religion; there hide like vermin the loathsome q’dheshim (2 Ki. 23:7; it is possible that these only date from the reign of Manasseh).
In one of the temple courts there is a group of people listening to a prophet, a villainous looking fellow, in his rough sheepskin cloak. He is in a frenzy, but it looks suspiciously like the frenzy of strong drink. His talk is pious and orthodox enough. He is full of the glories and peace of Jerusalem, the wonders of her temple, and the care the Lord has for His chosen nation. Psalms roll off his tongue like nursery-rhymes. Presently, in response to a request, he turns to private soothsaying for one of his patrons, and gets a good fee for it. It is just as well to keep on the right side of him, or you may be the subject of his next anathema (Mic. 2:11; 3:5, 11).
Down a side street there is a narrow entry leading into a darkened room, from which strange mutterings are issuing. We do not care to go in, but on enquiry we learn that the man who lives there is a spiritist, and claims to be able to call up and consult the dead–for payment, of course. There may be something in it, or it may all be lies. “You can’t trust anybody these days,” says our informant, “not even your own wife and family; in fact, they are likely to be your worst enemies; honesty simply isn’t to be found” (Isa. 8:19; Mic. 7:2, 5-6).
So far, our discoveries have been very gloomy and disquieting. Priest and people holding to the outer form of religion, grafting their own notions of what is befitting in worship onto the old phraseology, but leaving the essence of the law of God entirely outside. One may sacrifice to Jehovah or to Baalim on the same day and almost with the same ceremony. In all ages, how popular is the outward and respectable form of religion, and how unpopular the inward and searching reality!
We ask, anxiously: “Is there no one left of the old-time faith? Is there no prophet truly of the Lord? We are told: “Yes, there are a few. There is the prophet Isaiah. And there is a countryman, not so much before the public, but a great preacher. His name is Micah the Morasthite. They do say, too, that the king’s son, Hezekiah, has been under Isaiah’s influence, and holds the same views–but he is a mere child.”
We await a day when the prophet Isaiah takes his stand, perhaps in the temple courts, or in the open spaces near the city gates. We shall not attempt to describe him, except to say that he wears the garb of the prophetic order, and is somewhere about 25 or 30 years old, as far as we can tell. He is married and has at least one son, who bears the strange name of Shear-jashub–the remnant shall return. He lives in the Tyropoean valley, between two of the hills on which Jerusalem is built, and which, apparently, he refers to as the Valley of Vision. The valley is spanned by the great bridge, 100 feet high, built by Solomon. (Part of one arch still remains, known as Robinson’s arch.) Let us take our stand near, and hear the sermon for the occasion.
Let me sing to my Beloved a song of my Beloved concerning his vineyard (or, perhaps, The song of His love for His vineyard). There was belonging to my Beloved a vineyard on a very fruitful hillside. And he dug it and cleared out the stones, and he planted it with a choice vine, and he built a tower in the midst of it, and also a winepress he dug out in it; and he hoped it was going to produce good grapes, and it produced worthless ones…And now let me tell you what I am doing to my vineyard; I am going to remove its hedge, and it shall be burnt up, and I am going to break down its wall, and it shall be a downtrodden thing…For the vineyard of Jehovah of Sabaoth is the house of Israel, and the men of Judah a plant of His delights, and He hoped for judgment (mishpat) and behold oppression (mispach), and for righteousness (tse ‘dhaqah) and behold a cry (tse’aqah) (Isa. 5).
The nation is the Lord’s, but it has grievously departed from Him and provoked to anger the Holy One of Israel (the prophet’s favorite name for his Lord); they will be judged for their sins, the flame shall consume the stubble and their blossom go up as dust. For all this His anger is not turned away, but His hand is stretched out still. A far nation will come with speed swiftly, none shall be weary or stumble among them, they shall not untie their shoes to rest at night; they shall roar, and lay hold of the prey, and none shall deliver it. The overdressed daughter of Zion in that day shall have instead of her perfumes a stink, and for a girdle a rope, for well-set hair baldness, clothing not of fine linen but sackcloth, and branding instead of beauty. How long? Until the cities be wasted without inhabitant, and the land be utterly desolate.
But as the stock of a felled tree at length begins to sprout again, so shall the stricken nation, and Shear-jashub–the remnant shall return (Isa. 1-6).
What a gloomy message! No wonder it is intensely unpopular. It takes a bold man to utter it. A man, too, who is very sure of his ground, feeling deeply the wrong and woe of the scenes we have seen. And he must be sure of his God, of His holiness, and therefore the inevitable fact of judgment to come–unless the people will wash, make themselves clean, put away the evil of their doings from before His eyes. This dim hope sustains the prophet Isaiah through the long, often discouraging years of his ministry. The brighter, surer hope is the certain coming of Jehovah’s Servant, the suffering Messiah who ultimately will set everything right. It is our hope as well.