Sour Grapes and Six Woes: Isaiah's Guide to a Failing Society
Isaiah 5 begins with a song. It’s poetic, almost tender: a person plants a vineyard on fertile land, does all the right things, and waits. But instead of good grapes, the vineyard produces sour ones. Then the tone changes. The speaker—God, through Isaiah—asks: what more could I have done? The disappointment is palpable. That vineyard is Israel.
What follows is a series of six “woes,” each one naming a different kind of corruption or collapse within society. They’re not abstract. They talk about hoarding land and houses, chasing pleasure, celebrating lies as truth, and silencing justice. These aren’t unfamiliar ideas. It reads like a diagnosis: the social fabric is unraveling.
Real Estate Monopoly, Ancient Edition
One "woe" targets those who join house to house and field to field, until there’s no space left for others. The issue isn’t just greed—it’s isolation, inequality, and the breaking of community. There’s something deeply contemporary about that image. What happens when space, resources, or opportunities get concentrated in too few hands?
Another line criticizes those who rise early to drink and fill their days with music and feasts, but have no regard for the deeper things going on around them. This one is harder to categorize. It isn’t just about alcohol or distraction—it’s about choosing numbing over awareness.
When Right is Wrong and Wrong is Convenient
Then there’s the famous line about calling evil good and good evil, light darkness and darkness light. It’s unsettling how easily moral language can be flipped. Not just in politics or media, but even in small everyday choices—where the wrong thing is convenient, and the right thing feels impractical.
The list continues: self-congratulation, distorted justice, bribes, arrogance. It’s not hard to find parallels in any time period. But what stands out in Isaiah isn’t just the behaviors; it’s the emotional weight. This isn’t a finger-wagging list. It’s a lament.
It’s hard not to wonder: what would a prophet say to us today? Which of these woes would land hardest? Which ones would we recognize and which ones would we try to justify?
No Neat Ending Here
By the end of the chapter, the imagery gets harsher. The land is left desolate, people are exiled, and darkness spreads. There’s no quick resolution, no reassuring moral. Just consequences unfolding.
And yet, the fact that these warnings were written down suggests someone hoped they’d be heard. Maybe not in that moment—but eventually. It’s not just judgment; it’s a mirror. What kind of society are we shaping? Who benefits, and who gets left out? What are we choosing to celebrate, and what are we choosing to ignore?