All our pleasant places have become ruins. — Isaiah 64:11b
Third Isaiah is set in the context of renewal. The people who had been exiled by the Babylonians are returning. The previous occupier has been overthrown, and the image of a divine warrior who conquers the enemy and wears the blood of the vanquished occupies the people’s imagination—imagery that makes many cringe.
These chapters move from vengeance to penitence and communal lament. The people are returning to cities in ruin. Colonial oppression, intercommunal divisions, and power struggles threaten the cohesion of the community. Rebuilding what was destroyed is hard work. Each crumbled building, every cast-down stone is a reminder of what once stood.
Chapter 64 concludes with the sad recollection of all that has been lost. Holy cities have become a wilderness, Zion, too, and Jerusalem is desolation. The Temple has been burned, and everything is in ruin. In the devastation, God feels absent, and hope itself seems trampled underfoot.
All the pleasant places have become ruins. This is also the lament today from the people of Gaza and the West Bank. Humanitarian agencies estimate that at least 90% of Gaza’s physical infrastructure has been partially or permanently destroyed since October 2023. With over 2 million people still living amongst the rubble, this lament from Isaiah resonates across the centuries.
Similarly, in the occupied West Bank, settler violence is ravaging communities from north to south and east to west. Local sources report that 5-7 attacks on property and people happen daily in the Palestinian Territories. Churches, homes, farms, and cars are burned, while Palestinians who attempt to protect their property or challenge attackers are arrested and/or beaten. All the pleasant places have become ruins.
When all is lost, people often have very little to turn to besides God. Hope and trust become the balm to weary souls. Scripture’s promises of mercy and justice quench hearts wrung out in lamentation. The ancient people of Israel pleaded with God to come down and defend them, to reveal God’s very self to them, and to remember that they are God’s own people (64:9) just as Christians in Palestine do today.
Zion has become a wilderness, Jerusalem a desolation, and all of the pleasant places are in ruin, yet God is often found in the wilderness. The Holy Spirit moves over the formless void, and the Lord of heaven and earth can bring flourishing to ruined places. Palestinian Christians meet devastation with sumud—steadfast resilience and hope in God’s justice—in the same way that ancient generations knew that the presence of the Lord offered salvation. (63:9) We pray for this salvation also to lift up all who call on God’s mercy today.
Christy Lohr Sapp serves as pastor to the English congregation of the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer in Jerusalem where the many cranes dotting the skyline are a reminder that rebuilding is a centuries-old project.
To Consider
The phrase “we all” runs throughout chapter 64 and reminds us that each human has a relationship to the divine. Yet, as humans, we each also have the potential for waywardness. How can we read Isaiah 64 as a call to collective action on behalf of our neighbors?
The people returning to Jerusalem in third Isaiah blame God for their disobedience. They say that God has caused their hearts to harden, and God’s absence has led to their transgressions. (See 63:17a & 64:5) In a world where casting blame elsewhere feels easier than taking personal responsibility, where do you see the need for responsible, accountable leadership today? How can we prevent our hearts from being hardened to cries for justice and mercy?
Prayer
Creative God, we are all the work of your hand. When our lives or the world around us seems to be in shambles, recreate us in your love, remold us in your image, and refine us in your grace. Restore communities decimated by violence and reveal your presence in places where hope seems lost. Come down to us in mercy and sustain all people with your Holy Spirit. Amen.