Sometimes, Scripture illustrates a bitter tale.
1 Kings 21:1-16 offers one such story: Naboth the Jezreelite has a vineyard that abuts King Ahab’s palace. Ahab asks Naboth to give him the vineyard because he wants a vegetable garden next to his house. In exchange, he offers a better vineyard or the value of the current vineyard in money.
Naboth refuses adamantly: “The Lord forbid that I should give you my ancestral heritage.” This vexes Ahab, who responds to the disappointment by getting so angry he takes to bed and refuses to eat.
When his wife Jezebel inquires about his mood, he explains the issue, and she tells him to eat and be cheerful. Writing letters in his name, she orders the nobles and elders in Naboth’s city to falsely accuse him of having cursed God and king, then lead him out of the city and stone him to death. The nobles and elders do this; Ahab takes possession of the vineyard.
As I read this brief passage, I returned over and over again to the concept of value.
For Ahab, value is inextricably tied to both money and status. He believes Naboth’s “ancestral heritage” can be purchased, that the value of family land and history equates to a simple matter of price. Moreover, he holds little regard for the land itself or for its apparent purpose. Scripture reveals that he wants it mostly because it is conveniently next door, and because he wants a vegetable garden.
This feels distinctly modern. What, in our modern society, can corporations and tech founders not buy? What people can they not dispossess? Those of small means can do little in the face of such resources and such a bottomless will to possess: we are no better off than Naboth. That Ahab would throw a tantrum after the refusal, over so small a thing, underscores even more his profound sense of entitlement.
Naboth, of course, serves as the unfortunate foil of the story. He is a man who seemingly values proper things: his heritage, the land given to him by God and family. But he is surrounded on all sides by people who move or are moved by the levers of power: not just Ahab himself, but Jezebel, and the nobles and elders who respond to Jezebel’s written commands. In this way, Naboth is up against a machine: he is never going to win.
And who among us doesn’t feel that way, a little, in this day and age?
A friend of mine recently tried to appeal an insurance claim. Her rightful claim was denied for reasons that made no sense; the appeal process, thus far, has taken her over sixty days. She has been sent to wrong numbers and wrong email addresses; she has been put on hold for hours at a time; she has been sent to collections for a bill that should be marked as in appeal. Fortunately, she has a feisty personality and has made peace with spending entire actual days of her life to run this appeal to ground, but many do not have such a luxury.
In my mother-in-law’s neighborhood, the impending arrival of a data center has imperiled the futures of all those who live around it. Those who have dwelt in the area for years have an option: sell their home and start over or live with the noise and side effects of having a data center nearby. While some young couples see the move as an opportunity, retirees who planned to spend out the rest of their days in their homes find themselves confronted with a future they do not desire and cannot control.
When my mother had cancer, we watched how the medical system can be navigated easily by those with money and authority—and how it can penalize, even unintentionally, those of meager means. In affluent areas, hospitals offer better treatments, more comfort, and greater options. In rural healthcare settings, like the ones in which my mother received treatment, staff and options are limited. So, it turns out, are health outcomes.
The good news is that Naboth’s story does not end with his death.
After he is stoned, the word of the Lord summons the prophet Elijah to Naboth’s very vineyard, where Ahab now stands. Through Elijah, God Himself demands an account of the crime, and promises penalty—among other things, a generational curse. And though Ahab repents and God grants a measure of mercy, the curse remains.
God certainly had any number of reasons to contend with Ahab, who was himself a deeply sinful man married to a deeply sinful woman. But I am touched that Naboth’s fate moves Him to outraged action, is worthy of a prophet’s intervention. And God remains God: He is as outraged now by injustice, as committed now to the vindication of the powerless, the small, and the oppressed.
And this to me remains one of the more revolutionary aspects of God’s character, and of His story—that He notices, cares, and is committed to redemption that will in some way transform these million hurts and injustices. He saw Naboth; he sees my friend on the phone for hours with her insurance carriers; he sees the retirees forced to give up their homes; he saw my mother and the people like her trapped in systems they did not create and under which they must abide. It does not pass unnoticed, and it will not go untouched.
The Word of the Lord summons to account all those in power who harm those without.
Count on it.
Samaritan's Song 