“ What good is an idol carved by man, or a cast image that deceives you? How foolish to trust in your own creation— a god that can’t even talk!What sorrow awaits you who say to wooden idols,‘ Wake up and save us!’ To speechless stone images you say,‘ Rise up and teach us!’ Can an idol tell you what to do? They may be overlaid with gold and silver, but they are lifeless inside.
How foolish are those who manufacture idols. These prized objects are really worthless. The people who worship idols don’t know this, so they are all put to shame.Who but a fool would make his own god— an idol that cannot help him one bit?All who worship idols will be disgraced along with all these craftsmen— mere humans— who claim they can make a god. They may all stand together, but they will stand in terror and shame.The blacksmith stands at his forge to make a sharp tool, pounding and shaping it with all his might. His work makes him hungry and weak. It makes him thirsty and faint.Then the wood carver measures a block of wood and draws a pattern on it. He works with chisel and plane and carves it into a human figure. He gives it human beauty and puts it in a little shrine.He cuts down cedars; he selects the cypress and the oak; he plants the pine in the forest to be nourished by the rain.Then he uses part of the wood to make a fire. With it he warms himself and bakes his bread. Then— yes, it’s true— he takes the rest of it and makes himself a god to worship! He makes an idol and bows down in front of it!He burns part of the tree to roast his meat and to keep himself warm. He says,“ Ah, that fire feels good.”Then he takes what’s left and makes his god: a carved idol! He falls down in front of it, worshiping and praying to it.“ Rescue me!” he says.“ You are my god!”Such stupidity and ignorance! Their eyes are closed, and they cannot see. Their minds are shut, and they cannot think.The person who made the idol never stops to reflect,“ Why, it’s just a block of wood! I burned half of it for heat and used it to bake my bread and roast my meat. How can the rest of it be a god? Should I bow down to worship a piece of wood?”The poor, deluded fool feeds on ashes. He trusts something that can’t help him at all. Yet he cannot bring himself to ask,“ Is this idol that I’m holding in my hand a lie?”
