In the life and times of the prophet Isaiah,
war was taken to a whole new level by the Assyrian juggernaut. In the context
of that experience, Isaiah receives anti-war messages from his God that
subsequent generations have greatly treasured: Isaiah 2:2-5 (it’s possible that
this text derives from a later author, but I think it works best precisely in
Isaiah’s context); 10:5-15; and 11:1-9 (this text, as Marvin
Sweeney and others have suggested, may actually be a prophetic manifesto of
the Josianic restoration). Below the fold, I present Isaiah 10:5-15 in Hebrew
and English, and draw some provisional conclusions.
As reconstructed here, Isaiah 10:5-15, 27end-34 consists of 28 lines. It is well-suited to have been spoken by Sargon II in 720 bce. In the wake of his re-pacification of Samaria, en route to Philistia, he subdued Judah along his path, and he may well have threatened Zion with annihilation. In any case, it would have been compelling for Isaiah to portray him as so doing.
In the translation following, terms for graven
images are not rendered with pejorative labels. A well-entrenched tradition takes
this path, but the rhetoric of the passage does not accord with it. The
anti-image rhetoric of a number of other biblical passages makes no sense here.
In the ancient Near East, cult statues and
graven images were protective devices, no less important than horses and
chariots, alongside of which they are mentioned in Isa 2:7. A prophet like
Isaiah despised them all.
That is what is wrong with a prophet. A
prophet possesses a terrible clarity about the sovereignty of God such that
protective devices appear to be what in fact they really are: unreliable,
unhelpful, even counter-productive.
In the run-up to war, a state would take care to relocate its gods to safe places. Or it might take them along in battle, much as an army today will carry its country’s flag. A victorious army would plunder the images of the defeated, or deface them, as a token of conquest.
Divine images were hallowed numens. There is a play on
words in Sargon’s scornful question (10:10-11). The kingdoms he conquered protected
themselves with divine images,אֱלִילִים , much as the gargoyles which line the top of Notre Dame
cathedral in Paris protect both the cathedral and the city of the cathedral. But, Sargon notes,
the kingdoms were weak and ineffectual,אֱלִיל , just the same. In an attempt to bring the word-play out, I
translate the latter by ‘god-forsaken,’ and the former by ‘simulacra.’
My translation tends toward formal
equivalence. However, I’ve been keeping bad company of late. People like Wayne
Leman, Rich Rhodes, and Kurk Gayle are encouraging me to strive for rhetorical
equivalence at the expense of formal equivalence. Here and there, then, you
will note DE translation technique.
Asterisks mark textual issues I have resolved
in a particular way. The commentaries discuss these matters. I will not discuss
them here.
הוֹי אַשּׁוּר שֵׁבֶט אַפִּי וּמַטֶּה־הוּא בְּיָד* מִזַּעְמִי
בְּגוֹי חָנֵף אֲשַׁלְּחֶנּוּ וְעַל־עַם עֶבְרָתִי אֲצַוֶּנּוּ
לִשְׁלֹל שָׁלָל וְלָבֹז בַּז
לְשׂוּמוֹ מִרְמָס כְּחֹמֶר
חוּצוֹת
וְהוּא לֹא־כֵן יְדַמֶּה וּלְבָבוֹ לֹא־כֵן יַחְשֹׁב
כִּי־לְהַשְׁמִיד בִּלְבָבוֹ וּלְהַכְרִית גּוֹיִם לֹא מְעָט
כִּי־יֹאמַר הֲלֹא שָׂרַי יַחְדָּו מְלָכִים
הֲלֹא כְּכַרְכְּמִישׁ כַּלְנוֹ אִם־לֹא כְאַרְפַּד חֲמָת
אִם־לֹא כְדַמֶּשֶׂק שֹׁמְרוֹן
כַּאֲשֶׁר מָצְאָה יָדִי לְמַמְלְכֹת הָאֱלִיל
וּפְסִילֵיהֶם מִירוּשָׁלִַם*
הֲלֹא כַּאֲשֶׁר עָשִׂיתִי לְשֹׁמְרוֹן וְלֶאֱלִילֶיהָ
כֵּן אֶעֱשֶׂה לִירוּשָׁלִַם
וְלַעֲצַבֶּיהָ
וְהָיָה כִּי־יְבַצַּע* אֶת־כָּל־מַעֲשֵׂהוּ בְּהַר
צִיּוֹן וּבִירוּשָׁלִָם
אֶפְקֹד עַל־פְּרִי־גֹדֶל לְבָבוֹ* וְעַל־תִּפְאֶרֶת
רוּם עֵינָיו
כִּי־אָמַר בְּכֹחַ־יָדִי עָשִׂיתִי וּבְחָכְמָתִי כִּי־נְבֻנוֹתִי
וָאָסִיר* גְּבוּלֹת עַמִּים וַעֲתוּדוֹתֵיהֶם שׁוֹשֵׂתִי
[וָאוֹרִיש מַמְלְכֹת] * וָאוֹרִיד* כַּאַבִּיר יוֹשְׁבִים
וַתִּמְצָא כַקֵּן יָדִי לְחֵיל הָעַמִּים
וְכֶאֱסֹף בֵּיצִים עֲזֻבוֹת כָּל־הָאָרֶץ
אֲנִי אָסָפְתִּי
וְלֹא הָיָה נֹדֵד כָּנָף וּפֹצֶה
פֶה וּמְצַפְצֵף
הֲיִתְפָּאֵר הַגַּרְזֶן עַל־הַחֹצֵב בּוֹ
אִם־יִתְגַּדֵּל הַמַּשּׂוֹר עַל מְנִיפוֹ
כְּהָנִיף שֵׁבֶט וְאֶת־מְרִימָיו כְּהָרִים
מַטֶּה לֹא־עֵץ
עָלָה* מִפְּנֵי־שֹׁמְרֹן* בָּא עַל־עַיַּת
עָבַר בְּמִגְרוֹן לְמִכְמָשׂ יַפְקִיד כֵּלָיו
עָבְרוּ מַעְבָּרָה גֶּבַע מָלוֹן לָנוּ
חָרְדָה הָרָמָה גִּבְעַת שָׁאוּל נָסָה
צַהֲלִי קוֹלֵךְ בַּת גַּלִּים
הַקְשִׁיבִי לַיְשָׁה עֲנִיָּה עֲנָתוֹת
נָדְדָה מַדְמֵנָה יֹשְׁבֵי הַגֵּבִים הֵעִיזוּ
עוֹד הַיּוֹם בְּנֹב לַעֲמֹד יְנֹפֵף יָדוֹ
הַר בַּת־צִיּוֹן גִּבְעַת יְרוּשָׁלִָם
הִנֵּה הָאָדוֹן יְהוָה צְבָאוֹת מְסָעֵף
פֻּארָה בְּמַעֲרָצָה
וְרָמֵי הַקּוֹמָה גְּדוּעִים וְהַגְּבֹהִים יִשְׁפָּלוּ
וְנִקַּף סִבְכֵי־הַיַּעַר בַּבַּרְזֶל וְהַלְּבָנוֹן בַּאֲרוֹד* יִפּוֹל
Oh Assyria!
Rod of my anger!
A stick in hand is he, for fury!
I send him
against a criminal nation,
against my wrath-deserving people I
charge him
to seize
spoil
and take booty,
to trample
them underfoot
like mire in the streets.
But that is
not what he imagines,
his heart thinks otherwise.
It is in
his heart to smash everything,
to cut off not a
few nations.
He says, “Are
not my commanders
one and all kings?”
Did Calno differ from Carchemish?
Hamath from Arpad?
Samaria from Damascus?
Just as my
hand found its way
into god-forsaken kingdoms –
with simulacra that outnumber Jerusalem’s -
just as I did to Samaria and her gods,
shall I not
do
to Jerusalem and her effigies?”
But when he
has disposed of his deed
against mount Zion and Jerusalem
I will
punish the product of his arrogant heart
and the haughtiness of his eyes.
He said, “I
did it by my own might,
by skill: I know what I’m doing.
I erased
the borders of peoples
and plundered their treasures,
[I
dispossessed kingdoms]
and like a bull I took down rulers.
My hand
found its way, like a nest,
to the wealth of the peoples.
As one
gathers abandoned eggs,
so I gathered all the earth.
Nothing so
much as flapped a wing
or opened a mouth to peep.
Can an axe
triumph
over him who hews with it?
Can a saw
magnify itself
over the one who wields it?
As though
the rod could wield the one who lifts it,
as though a stick could lift what is not
wood!
He went up from Samaria,
he went up against Aiath.
He passed
through Migron,
he ordered his baggage train remain in Michmash.
They
crossed the crossing,
“Geba is our night quarters!”
Ramah
trembled,
Gibeah of Saul took flight.
Bath-Gallim,
raise a shrill cry!
Pay
attention, Laishah!
Answer her, Anathot!
Madmenah
wandered off,
the inhabitants of Gebim sought refuge.
This same
day,
while halting at Nob,
he waves his hand
at Fair
Zion’s mount,
the hill of Jerusalem.
Just watch!
The Sovereign
YHWH of armies
will lop off the treetops with
an axe,
the ones
that stand tallest, chopped down,
the loftiest will fall.
He will
hack down the forest brush with iron,
Lebanon will fall by the bronze.
In a comment to the
first installment of this series, Phil Sumpter notes:
From Joshua through Chronicles, God orders,
sanctions and justifies murder, war and pillaging. This violence . . . is not a response to injustice or oppression,
it seems to be done because the others are not Israelites.
This description is true enough, but needs, I think, to be examined further. It reminds me of a comment by Steven Spielberg about the war in Iraq reported in the Italian media. (Politically correct Italians, in an effort to reassure themselves that their own point of view is right, like to quote Americans who agree with their take on things.) Spielberg said that the war in Afghanistan was a war of necessity and as such justifiable, whereas the war in Iraq was a war of choice, and as such to be condemned.
The ancient Israelites would have rolled their eyes at this distinction. The distinction is of little or no practical help. Preventive wars and pre-emptive strikes are typical military strategies. It is ludicrous to suggest that proactive military action is by definition bad whereas reactive military action may be justifiable. There are plenty of reasons for questioning the wisdom of the US-led intervention in Iraq. By itself, its proactive nature is not one of them.
Much of the violence in Samuel-Kings
and Chronicles is pre-emptive in nature. You smash them before they can smash
you. The anger of the prophet Elisha on his deathbed says it all (2 Kings
13:14-19). Many students of the Bible know Isaiah 2:2-5 and 11:1-9 backwards
and forwards. So do I. It is just as important to commit 2 Kings 13:14-20 to
memory.
2 Kings 13:20 is an illuminating verse. It shows that what Assyria did on a grand scale – terrorize its neighbors on an annual basis – Moab (and Judah, and Israel) did on a small scale.
A careful reading of
Amos 1:2-3:16 suggests that Amos was disgusted at the atrocities that occur in
war, but it is not clear that he questioned per se the reciprocally pro-active
war policies of the kingdoms in his purview.
In our own day, it is sometimes thought that the pro-active warmaking of an Israel or a United States is a recent innovation. In a splendid little volume entitled Surprise, Security, and the American Experience, John Lewis Gaddis, historian at Yale, demonstrates that pre-emptive strikes and preventive wars are nothing new. The military history of the United States, for example, overflows with examples thereof.
Can we say, then, that,
with respect to war, the Hebrew Bible believes that the ends justify the means?
Yes and no. Yes, in the sense that the end of self-defense might justify
pre-emptive strikes on one’s enemies. No, in the sense that some ends were
forbidden. The pursuit of universal impoverishment for the sake of one’s own
enrichment was one of them.
The ultimate answer to those who think that, according to the Bible, the ends justify the means, is found in 2 Kings 5. A most insightful take on this passage is that of Jacques Ellul in the Politics of God and the Politics of Man.
You’ve got to love a
book that notes with absolute grimness how necessary war is, even and
especially wars of choice (2 Kings 13:15-20), but that, at the same time,
recounts the healing touch of its God upon one of its enemies’ chief
executioners (2 Kings 5). Does this mean that a single individual’s personal
well-being trumps the ends of war? It appears so.
It reminds me of a dialogue that took place in the run-up to the war in Iraq. It was a give-and-take between Clare Short and a reporter. She was a fascinating politician, a true believer in her causes. She served the Blair administration as Secretary of State for International Development. A fellow Labour MP, Bernie Grant, once remarked about her, “She sounds like a mouthpiece for an old 19th century colonial and Conservative government.” I admired her trenchant moralism in a cynical world.
The dialogue went like this - I’d love to recoup the actual text, but attempts on my part have been unsuccessful. “How many British lives are you willing to sacrifice to liberate Iraq?” asked the reporter. Short paused, did not reply to the question, and approached the topic from another direction.
Short was accused of
having a matronizing attitude towards her fellow countrymen. Call it what you
will. Her attitude certainly put her in a bind in an administration on a
war-footing.
There is something
inherently mad about war. A mother’s heart knows this, that the liberation of
an entire nation is not a good enough reason to lay even one of one’s own sons
on the altar in order to accomplish it. The Italians have a word for it: it’s
called mammismo. But who made mothers?
I appreciated parts of what you wrote here. With some misgivings, I am replying to the statement that I find objectionable: because I find it extremely objectionable.
There are plenty of reasons for questioning the wisdom of the US-led intervention in Iraq. By itself, its proactive nature is not one of them.
That is, in fact, a very good reason for condemning the invasion of Iraq.
The fact that nations down through history have engaged in war proactively does not make it right. The fact that the USA has done so shames the nation. This is not a precedent to be followed in future.
I believe Christians should stand for peace: period. If there is an argument to make that a certain war is a "just" war, let non-believers make that argument.
That said, just war theory has one great merit: it provides principles for showing how unjust almost every single war is.
The one obvious exception that most of us would agree on is World War II, when Germany was determined to achieve world domination; and the gentle mercies of life under Adolph Hitler would not have commended themselves to any person of conscience.
In other words, it was a just war because it was a response to someone else's aggression.
The problem with proactive war is that whoever executes it has become the de facto aggressor. And yes, it is profoundly shaming to America that it has a well-deserved reputation for aggression.
Whatever the precedent of the Old Testament may be, the relevant precedent for Christians is Christ on the cross. Christ, who refused to take up the sword or call for legions of angels to slay his torturers and executers, but absorbed the full brunt of their violence in his own person.
This is a good instance for posing the trite question, What Would Jesus Do?
Proactive war? I think not.
Posted by: Stephen (aka Q) | December 21, 2007 at 04:17 PM
Stephen, I agree with you - despite my strong disagreement on another matter at MetaCatholic.
John, I find it strange that you find any links between Clare Short's gender and her attitude to the Iraq war. But you seem to have portrayed her as unprincipled for not answering the question. On the contrary, she was principled enough to resign from the government, and later from the Labour Party, because of her objections to the war.
Posted by: Peter Kirk | December 21, 2007 at 05:48 PM
Stephen,
almost everyone I know - that is, among people I wish to count as friends - feels exactly as you do. Truth be told, most of my friends in Italy go one step further and censure all post-WW II US-led military intervention, inclusive of the bombing of Serbia, the first phase of the Iraq War (Desert Storm), Afghanistan, the second phase of the Iraq War (Enduring Freedom). Most of my friends in Italy would characterize each and every one of these interventions as proactive in the sense we are using the term here. For all I know, that's your position, too.
If you are wondering where I'm coming from theologically and politically on these matters, the people I'm on the same page with include Jean Bethke Elshtain, Elie Wiesel, Paul Berman, and Vaclav Havel.
My bringing in analogies from our own day necessarily opens can upon can of worms. I realize it is now my responsability to take the discussion further. These are very important issues, and I'd love to see a blogabout that focussed on them, with views ranging from principled pacifism to Realpolitik represented. I would like to see a broader discussion take place. Perhaps my objectionable statements will serve as a provocation to that end.
You are right to bring up the Cross in this context. The Cross, I think, places a huge question mark over reactive no less than proactive war. So where do we go from there?
Peter, the connection between Clare Short's gender and her approach to foreign policy is not one I made on my own. In any case, I mean to portray her opposition as principled and authentic, and to the extent that it derives from her thinking like a mother, not for that reason to be taken any less seriously. Quite the opposite.
To me the key passage is the account of the healing of Naaman the Syrian general. It's a passage that backs up Clare Short's viewpoint (or her viewpoint as I understand it). There is a sense in which the need to do right by a single human being (for example, by not sending him off to get killed in Iraq) outweighs the need to come to the aid of a nation in thrall (Iraq again. And it doesn't help to point out that the US and other nations went to war for other reasons. At issue here is why people like Makiya and Berman, not to mention Tony Blair, supported going to war for the "right" reasons).
Like the Cross, God's choice to heal Himmler (so to speak) so that he could fight another day throws all calculations out the window.
What would Jesus do? We know what Jesus did. That doesn't quite answer the question: what should we do. Or if it does, it means we should all be pacifists pure and simple.
Posted by: JohnFH | December 21, 2007 at 08:24 PM
I would appreciate further discussion of this issue, John. I've linked to the comment section of this post here. The post itself is rather wide-ranging, and not a direct response to your post. However, it is definitely relevant.
Posted by: Stephen (aka Q) | December 22, 2007 at 08:06 AM
john--
when isaiah talks about the actions of armies and nations outside of israel or judah, how does he get this information? what do the communication chains and relationships inside and outside israel and judah look like, and over what time periods do they function? how 'timely' and accurate are any messages or bits of information?
Posted by: scott gray | December 23, 2007 at 08:18 AM
Scott,
a book I would recommend as a window into the world of 8th-6th centuries BCE is "How the Bible Became a Book: The Textualization of Ancient Israel," by William M. Schniedewind. Cambridge University Press, 257 pp.
There are others who think of 8th -7th cent. Judah as an isolated mountain kingdom which did not share in the interconnected world we know of from a variety of ANE sources, but I think it's telling that archaeology has shown Jerusalem to be at a peak of expansion precisely in this period.
Posted by: JohnFH | December 23, 2007 at 11:28 AM