The Valley of Vision (22:1–14)
THE STRANGE TITLE of the oracle (“The Valley of Vision”) is reminiscent of the title for the oracle against Babylon in 21:1. Like that one, it seems to involve contradictory ideas to make its point. A valley is not where one goes to get a long view of things. In fact, it is the exact opposite; it is a place where you cannot see. It seems plain from the rest of the oracle that it is addressed to Jerusalem, but why describe it so strangely? Perhaps the prophet is condemning the Judeans precisely for their lack of vision. They claim to know God and his ways, but their behavior makes it appear they do not. Instead of standing on a mountaintop where they can see clearly, they are in the bottom of a valley, having lost all perspective on reality and what it means. In fact, they have become like one more of the pagan nations on whom judgment is being pronounced in this section of the book.
There is considerable uncertainty among scholars as to the events being referred to in these verses. The references to strengthening defenses (22:8– 11) suggest either the coming of Sennacherib in 701 B.C. or the final siege of Jerusalem begun in 588 B.C. However, the references to rejoicing and revelry (22:2, 13) are difficult to integrate into either of those events. Also, Eliakim, not Shebna, was prime minister (“in charge of the palace,” 22:15) in 701 B.C. This suggests another possibility, the attack of Sargon on the Philistine city of Ashdod in 711 B.C. (cf. 20:1). This must have been a frightening event for the Judeans, certainly frightening enough to provoke a strengthening of the defenses. But after taking Azekah, another Philistine city, the Assyrians withdrew. That surely would have occasioned a time of rejoicing. It also would seem to confirm any encouragement to revolt that the Babylonian envoys may have given to Hezekiah in their visit at about this time (see comments on ch. 38 for the date of the events in chs. 38–39).
All the inhabitants of “the Valley of Vision” can see is short-term relief (22:1–2). They cannot see the longer view that the prophet has, namely, the events just before the fall of Jerusalem, when King Zedekiah fled from the city with his bodyguard only to be captured near Jericho. Thus, the people are rejoicing at the moment over a short-term lifting of the Assyrian threat, while the prophet sees how this whole episode will end 125 years later and weeps “bitterly” over that reality (22:4). He sees what they cannot.
Verses 5–7 probably continue Isaiah’s view of the distant future, when the besieging armies will be camped around the city, filling the Kidron Valley on the east and the Hinnom Valley on the south. Among the Babylonian armies will be mercenary soldiers from “Elam” and “Kir” (possibly Media). In that hour there will be no more rejoicing in “the Valley of Vision” but only “tumult” and “terror.”1
In 22:8–14 the prophet makes his pronouncement against “the Valley of Vision.” Note the recurrence of verbs for seeing in verses 8, 9, and 11. Temporal “realities” have been looked at instead of eternal ones. It is not clear who the repeated “you” is in verses 8–12. It is probably Hezekiah, because we know he strengthened the walls of Jerusalem and had the famous tunnel dug to bring water from the spring of Gihon to the pool at the foot of the old city (2 Chron. 32:1–5); if so, he is not named. Moreover, we should note that although the first verb of the succession of second-person verbs is singular (Isa. 22:8),2 the rest are plural (22:9–11). Perhaps the point is that Hezekiah is not himself responsible for the misplaced priorities, but that it is the people at large and the royal counselors, like Shebna (22:15–19), who paid no attention to the real causes of the coming disaster. Both the books of Kings and Chronicles suggest that Hezekiah himself had his priorities in the right order (2 Kings 18:1–8; 2 Chron. 29:1–31:21).
Jerusalem exists as the capital city of Judah only because of the grace and power of God (Isa. 22:11). He was not only the One who gave the city to David against all the odds (2 Sam. 5:6–10), he was also the One who gave the entire land to his people (Josh. 1:2; etc.). So since Israel had not taken either the city or the land in their own strength, it is foolish to think they can keep them in their own strength. The land is a covenant gift from their covenant Lord. Thus, the most important thing to do in a moment of danger and threat is to be sure that they are acting within the covenant Lord’s will and that their relationship with him is intact so that they can continue to receive the promised blessings of the covenant.
But that is precisely what they are not doing. They are acting as if the most important things they can do are the human things they do for themselves, such as tearing down the houses that are crowded against the insides of the walls, so that the building materials can be used to “strengthen the wall” (22:10) and also so that troops can easily be rushed to any point where an attack is being made.
In fact, Judah’s relations with God are in anything but good repair. They congratulate themselves that they are not corrupt as the northern kingdom of Israel had been, and so they believe they have survived because of their merits when Israel fell. But Isaiah and the other prophets see clearly that all the same trends are at work in Judah that so tragically affected Israel. Furthermore, if those trends are not reversed, Judah will become as corrupt as Israel and will go the same way in the end. When that end did come in the 580s B.C., Ezekiel said that Judah and Israel were like two whoring sisters and that in the end Judah was even more deserving of punishment than Israel (Ezek. 23).
It is for this reason that God is calling for weeping and wailing (22:12). This is no time for self-congratulation and partying. It is a time for bitter repentance and for pleading with God for mercy. It is a time for careful self-reflection and for amending their ways where those ways have varied from God’s ways. There is still hope for Judah, if they will only learn the lessons of the times.
But all the indications are that they have neither the interest nor the attention to learn those lessons. Thus, since the people will not weep and wail over their sins, it falls to the prophet to do it (22:4). He sees that apart from confession, repentance, and the attendant mercy of God, there is no possibility for the sins of the nation to be “atoned for” (“covered over,” 22:14), and that is a source of terrible grief for him. Where there is confession and repentance, that mercy is always available, as the book of Jonah makes abundantly clear; but apart from that kind of humble turning to God, even he is powerless to bring his mercy to bear on the situation.
A Picture of Two Men (22:15–25)
AS WE HAVE already seen earlier in Isaiah, one of its features is the use of graphic illustration. We first saw it in chapter 3 and most recently in chapter 20. After a discourse, the prophet’s point is reinforced with a concrete picture of what has just been said. Here the picture takes two parts, revolving around two different men. The first illustration (22:15–19) is negative, while the second (22:20–25) is more positive.
As is clear from chapter 36, where the embassy to the Rabshakeh of Assyria is headed by the “palace administrator” (the same Heb. phrase translated “in charge of the palace” here), this position has sweeping responsibilities. In fact, there is reason to think that it is analogous to the task of “prime minister.”3 Thus, Shebna carries great responsibility for the well-being of the country, both spiritually and materially. But his priorities are misplaced. Instead of denying himself for the good of the country, he is building himself a fine rock tomb. Instead of losing himself in order to bring life to his country, he is trying to make sure he will be remembered in death! When he should be thinking about the life of others, he is focusing all his attention on his own death.
There are many fine rock-cut tombs in the hillside on the east side of the Kidron Valley directly across from the lower part of old Jerusalem, which was the main part of the city at that time. It is easy to think of the prime minister driving one of his “splendid chariots,” one of the “perks” of his office, out to see how the work was coming. The fine tomb would be there for all future generations to see how important and significant Shebna had been. But when he arrives at the site, he finds an unwelcome visitor, the prophet Isaiah. Isa-iah tells Shebna that far from being important and significant, he is a “disgrace to [his] master’s house” (22:18). Instead of being memorialized before all the people, he will be wadded up and thrown away like an old rag (22:17–18). We do not know Shebna’s ultimate fate, but the reference to “a large country” (22:18) leads us to wonder whether he may have died as a hostage in Assyria.
In the short term, Shebna will have his office taken from him and given to another (see 22:19–25). We can imagine that for a person like Shebna, the tokens of importance were significant to him. Thus, to have his official uniform (“robe” and “sash,” 22:21) taken from him and given to another will be terribly humiliating. We cannot help but think of 2:6–4:1 here, which speaks of the inevitable humiliation that comes to those who exalt themselves.
It is not known whether the “key” referred to in 22:22 is only a figure of speech. Perhaps it is a symbolic badge of office, or it may actually have been a key to the palace. In any case, it represents absolute authority to determine who will have an audience with the king and who will not. Unlike Shebna, who is only concerned for himself, Eliakim will be concerned for the people under his charge and will act as a “father” (22:21) to them. That is, he will be concerned about their welfare before his own and will work for them, not himself. The reference to “the house of David” may also be significant. It suggests that Eliakim’s interests are not merely for temporal affairs, as symbolized by the “house” (i.e., the palace). Rather, they are for the larger spiritual matters that ought to be concerning the court, the “house” of David.
But there is a danger that can befall anyone who is truly responsible and reliable. That danger is spelled out in 22:23–25. Such a person becomes so dependable that people rely too much on him. Like a good, strong “peg” in the wall, everything imaginable, and some things unimaginable, get hung on such a person. A weak or broken peg we do not put so much upon. But the one that is obviously strong and reliable we hang everything on. In this case, there seems to be a suggestion that Eliakim’s family will become a special burden to him (22:23–24). This is still a feature of Near Eastern culture. If one member “makes good,” he is expected to care for and make a place for all the rest, even the ne’er-do-wells and the hangers-on.
Sadly, however, even the best of us often cannot endure such pressure forever. That seems to be what Isaiah is predicting for Eliakim. Eventually, he will crack under the strain, and all that has been dependent on him will come crashing down (22:25). That such a thing will happen in that setting is entirely predictable. The people have rejected divine resources and are trusting in humans instead. Most humans fail their trust, and thus if one turns out to be unusually trustworthy, the loads are simply piled on. But no human can bear what is meant to be rolled onto the Lord (Ps. 37:3–6). Even the best person will break under those circumstances.
Bridging Contexts
IT IS SAID that the last nights of Berlin in April of 1945 were marked by revelries and parties. The Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra played Wagner’s The Twilight of the Gods. There was a general air of “Let’s eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.” The inflated promises of National Socialism to bring in the millennium—the thousand-year Reich—had disappeared in dust and ashes. The Russian army was on the Oder River, just a few miles to the east, and to the west, German soldiers were surrendering in the thousands to the victorious Allies. The war was lost. But instead of national repentance or even reflection, there was only an attempt to forget in waves of artificially induced giddiness.
From one point of view, such a response is not surprising. What was there to repent of? The Kaiser’s army in World War I had at least made a pretense of trusting in God, as their uniform belt buckles had stamped on them “Gott Mit Uns” (i.e., “God With Us”). Hitler’s armies made no such pretense. They had abandoned the Christian God Nietzsche accused of turning men into old women and had tried to revive the harsh gods of Norse and Germanic legend. But their real god was simply the god of power. Now cruel fate had turned against them, and the fickle god of power had gone off to fawn on their enemies. What’s to repent of?
For starters, there were an estimated fifty million people dead, including six million Jews. The culture and spirit of Europe lay in ruins, with the spirit in particular hard-pressed ever to recover. Germany, the land of Luther, had, like Judah many years before it, become a “Valley of Vision,” where a glorious past of spiritual insight had been forfeited and the claims to see true reality were in fact a mockery.
Contemporary Significance
PLANS AND PRIORITIES. This passage of Isaiah is about priorities. There is nothing wrong with making preparations for certain eventualities, nor is there anything wrong with using our strengths and abilities to care for ourselves. The book of Proverbs is clear that those who are lazy and careless are fools. They have not made adequate preparations for the day of trouble, and when it falls on them, they are helpless. By contrast, those who are wise have carefully planned their lives and will carry out those plans. Note Proverbs 24:30–34; 27:23–27:
I went past the field of the sluggard,
past the vineyard of the man who lacks judgment;
thorns had come up everywhere,
the ground was covered with weeds,
and the stone wall was in ruins.
I applied my heart to what I observed
and learned a lesson from what I saw:
A little sleep, a little slumber,
a little folding of the hands to rest—
and poverty will come on you like a bandit
and scarcity like an armed man.
Be sure you know the condition of your flocks,
give careful attention to your herds;
for riches do not endure forever,
and a crown is not secure for all generations.
When the hay is removed and new growth appears
and the grass from the hills is gathered in,
the lambs will provide you with clothing,
and the goats with the price of a field.
You will have plenty of goats’ milk
to feed you and your family
and to nourish your servant girls.4
So what is the problem here in Isaiah? Plans and preparations have been made without first seeking God’s guidance and blessing. Proverbs is also insistent that the outcome of all our plans is in the hands of God. “A man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps” (Prov. 16:9); “the horse is made ready for the day of battle, but victory rests with the LORD” (21:31).5 How seriously do we seek God’s plans before we make our plans? How easily do we work everything out our way and then casually ask God to bless it?
But even more seriously, do we pay more attention to our relationship to the Lord than we do to our plans and preparations? This was the problem in Isaiah’s day, and it remains so in ours. The plans may have been fine, but how can God bless them when the people making them are self-serving covenant-breakers? That is the problem with the rich farmer in Jesus’ parable in Luke 12:16–21. He does not pay attention to the main issue in life:
“‘And I’ll say to myself, “You have plenty of good things laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry.”’
“But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?’
“This is how it will be with anyone who stores up things for himself but is not rich toward God.” (Luke 12:19–21)
In Isaiah’s day, it was a leadership problem. The Judean leaders were worrying about walls and water supplies when they should have been worrying about sin. How much easier it is to plan for increased facilities in a church than it is to deal with the spiritual deadness in the congregation. How much easier it is to plan additional programs for speaking to postmoderns than it is to speak out against rampant materialism. Thus, the physical plant may be increasing and the numbers in the congregation may be growing while the members of the church are drifting further and further from God. Like the Judeans or the rich farmer, we are “fat and happy,” rejoicing in our blessings, going from one party to another, chiding the saints among us for their long faces and sour attitudes, never hearing the Lord saying to us, “You fools!”
What does it mean to be an Eliakim rather than a Shebna? Above everything else, it means that we have gotten ourselves off our hands. That’s the difference between a David and a Saul, or a Jesus and a Judas. The second person in each of these pairs was always looking out for himself. He was worried about his image, about what other people thought of him, about how he was going to supply his needs, and about how people would remember him. These were the last things the first person in each pair worried about.
I am convinced that these are the kinds of things Jesus had in mind when he said we must become like little children to enter the kingdom of heaven (Matt. 18:3–4). There are a number of things about children that are not heavenly: They are ignorant and naïve; they can be petty and selfish; and if you are a parent, you know they are not innocent. But, by and large, they lack self-consciousness. It does not occur to them to worry about how they are appearing to others. Status means nothing to them. But how quickly that changes as we grow up. We become absorbed not with reality but with image. We are consumed with a need for approval and position, and all too often with the approval of the wrong people and the positions that are worthless.
That was Shebna. He had achieved the highest position in the land after the king, and he was using that position to build a memorial for himself. He was laboring for what did not really matter, and as a result his only real memorial is the one of disgrace found in Isaiah 22. We can go down that road too unless we make that kind of total self-renunciation where in the end we care for nothing but the approval of God. In his sermon “The Weight of Glory,” C. S. Lewis says that it matters little what we think of God, but it matters to all eternity what God thinks of us.6
That is the kind of person we see in Eliakim. Like Christ, he will care more for the welfare of others than he does for his own. And like Christ, his greatest joy will be to make it possible for people to enter the throne room of the King. He will be seeking God’s grace so that he can be responsible, reliable, and true in the cesspool of court intrigue. He will be concerned for the needs of others above his own to the extent that he will shoulder loads that are really too heavy to carry. But he will carry them, not because he constantly needs to prove to himself that he is indispensable or that he is really somebody, but because he does not want others to have to bear those loads.
Nor do such burdens need to break us in the end, as they apparently did Eliakim. To be sure, health may break, not because we have abused our bodies but simply because the reed we were given at birth was weaker than the one given to some others. But even in a broken body, our spiritual health may be radiant and robust, in spite of our carrying impossible loads. If we have learned how to carry those loads to the Master and leave them there, we will not be broken by what we are called to shoulder for the sake of others.
This is the opportunity Christ offers each of us. We may chose to be Eliakim or Shebna. We may focus on the temporal or the eternal. If we focus on the temporal, we and all our works will perish with the temporal. If we choose the eternal, then none of our temporal works will ever be lost (Rom. 8:13). Furthermore, like Eliakim and the apostles after him, we will be given the authority to open the doors of heaven for those who will never get in otherwise (Matt. 16:19; cf. also Rev. 3:7). More frighteningly, we will have the authority to close the doors for those who are trying to get in for all the wrong reasons. There is power, but it is only gotten by renouncing power and all its trappings.
1. This understanding of vv. 2–7 represents a change from the position taken in Oswalt, Isaiah 1–39, 410, where I proposed the material all related to the recent past.
2. The LXX makes it plural like all the rest.
3. See S. Layton, “The Steward in Ancient Israel: A Study of the Hebrew (‘ašher) <al-habbayit in Its Near Eastern Setting,” JBL 109 (1990): 633–49.
4. See also Prov. 10:4; 12:11, 24, 27; 14:1, 23; 15:22; 18:9; 19:15; 20:4, 18; 21:5; 22:29; 24:3–4; 31:12–29.
5. See also Prov. 16:1; 19:21; 21:2.
6. C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1949), 10.