Reflection - "We did nothing wrong"

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/071618.cfm
Isaiah 1:10-17
Matthew 10:34-11-1

The reading from Isaiah would be better understood by reflecting on a couple of the preceding verses from the chapter.

Your country lies desolate, your cities are burned with fire; in your very presence strangers devour your land; it is desolate, as overthrown by strangers. If the LORD of hosts had not left us a few survivors, we should have been like Sodom,and become like Gomor'rah. (Isaiah 1:7, 9)

In these two verses which precede the present ones we are led to understand that the nation of Israel has been involved in conflict; and further, that their destruction is almost as complete as the annihilation of Sodom and Gomorrah. Isaiah cites evidence of the type of devastation which would be characteristic of an invading army. When, therefore, Isaiah speaks, he is only symbolically talking to the “princes of Sodom” or the “people of Gomorrah.” His words are addressed to the princes and people of Israel, those few who have survived the havoc created by the invading foreign army.

Now these are God’s Chosen People that Isaiah is speaking to, the one’s who were assured of God’s everlasting presence, his on-going protection, his persistent love. They’ve just been devastated in battling with the enemy. So their question, which Isaiah will answer, is obvious: Where now is God’s presence, his protection and his love?

From Isaiah’s words in the text we can safely assume that the people have been attentive to sacrificing to God — whole burnt rams, the fat of fatlings, the blood of calves, lambs and goats. Further, they have celebrated the God of their ancestors in gatherings, and festivals, and holydays; and they have done so at least monthly as evidenced by the reference to the new moon. They have lifted their hands to worship in prayer. To all of these the Lord replies: “What do I care?” “I have had enough!” “Who asked for these things anyway?” “They are loathsome!” “Some of your so-called worship I can not even tolerate. I detest them; they weigh me down; I tire of the load.” I can picture these words being spoken by the cat owner whose cat leaves the dead mouse at the doorstep or the dog owner who receives the offering of a dead squirrel which his dog has diligently procured. We make allowances for ‘gifts’ brought by our pets. God’s expects more from those who should know better.

The Lord’s reproach must have come as a complete shock. The people had done what they thought they were supposed to do. Maybe they had been a bit careless and inattentive about it, but the sacrificial offerings had been made. Maybe they had borrowed a bit from their pagan neighbors in arranging their festivals, but at least they had bothered to keep them. Maybe they had been a bit self-serving in their prayers, but at least they had acknowledged God as the one to be appeased.

As I read the text I was reminded of the closing scene from the movie, A Few Good Men. The film is a courtroom drama in which two marines are accused of murdering a fellow marine. The circumstances suggest that the death was unintentional and primarily due to an unknown physical condition of the victim. The defendants claim that they were ordered by their commanding officer to administer the beating as punishment for the victim’s attitude. The commanding officer denies such an order because such an order is forbidden by military law. When the truth comes out, the defendants are given a dishonorable discharge for action unbecoming a marine. One defendant asks “What did we do wrong? We did nothing wrong.” The other defendant, more receptive of and sensitive to the truth which has just been revealed in the courtroom, responds: “Yes we did. We were supposed to defend those who can’t defend themselves.”

I can easily imagine the Israelites of Isaiah’s day asking the same question: “What did we do wrong? We did nothing wrong.” We offered sacrifices; we celebrated with holydays and festivals; we regularly prayed. At least part of the problem was revealed in the fact that they could even ask the question; for righteousness is not to be determined by what human beings decide is good and holy and pleasing to God.

What’s equally troubling is the very real possibility that the same question could be asked today. “What did we do wrong? We did nothing wrong.” We frequented Sunday Mass; we received the sacraments; we said our nighttime prayers! What did we do wrong? The Lord’s answer could be as deflating for us as it was for the Israelites.

Put away your misdeeds from before my eyes;
cease doing evil; learn to do good.
Make justice your aim:
redress the wronged,
hear the orphan’s plea,
defend the widow.

The ritual practices of religion lose their meaning when life remains unchanged as a result of those practices. Neither prayer, nor sacrifice, nor the observance of devotions and holidays can provide assurance that we are doing God’s will. These may be nothing more than conceits which we participate in solely to convince ourselves that we are observing the rules, doing the right thing, growing in holiness. 

On the other hand, what the Lord demands requires a heart that is attuned to that which is truly pleasing to him — a heart that recognizes the difference between good and evil, a heart that knows a justice which was framed by the creator, not by laws, a heart that feels for the wronged, empathizes with the orphan’s plea and defends those, like the widow, who can’t defend themselves.