When you spread out your hands in prayer, I hide my eyes from you; even when you offer many prayers, I am not listening. Your hands are full of blood! Wash and make yourselves clean. Take your evil deeds out of my sight; stop doing wrong. Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow (Isaiah 1:15-17).

Do you know who made the clothes you are wearing? Do you know how much the server makes at your favourite restaurant? Do you know where the components of your cellphone come from? Do you know any of the people who were involved in assembling that wonderful little device? Do you know the farmers who produced the food you eat? Do you know if they were paid adequately for their produce or if they provided sufficiently for their workers?

In our integrated economy there are many things we simple do not know. A century ago, such ignorance would have been unimaginable. But this is the world we live in – a world of unceasing productivity and commerce in which producer and consumer are severely separated. Many are exploited in the process.

Thus, reading Isaiah 1 ought to make all Christians deeply uncomfortable.

Israel was keeping Sabbath. Isaiah offers a grand list of liturgical practices that God's people were faithfully participating in – offerings, incense, new moons, convocations, solemn assemblies, prayer and Sabbaths. But God was not happy with any of it. He was, in fact, utterly repulsed by it, wearied.

Sabbath and all its liturgical practices were not having any effect on his people. It was all fake. Oh, they stopped working all right. At least with their bodies. But their minds were still fully engaged in profit making. Along with the unending meditation on the accumulation of goods, came anxiety. If the profits were not as high as anticipated, it might crimp the size of the new house. That anxiety produced plans for coercion and exploitation. Those with money and power often find ways to make more at the expense of others. The great festival of rest had become simply another venue for restlessness.

Sabbath was meant to be a return to the covenant: dependence on God and concern for neighbour. But they had created a false dichotomy between the sacred and the secular. Sabbath was for paying attention to God, the rest of the week for making money. As a result, liturgical practices were cut off from the well-being of the neighbourhood and the protection of the vulnerable. God's covenant with Israel insisted that those with resources cared for those who had less. They had lost this connection.

In our society, with the distance between those who produce and those who buy it is easy for us to fall into a similar problem. Spiritual rest is about me and God. But if we truly pay attention to God, and not just ourselves, the Spirit will point us towards concern for our neighbour. As Paul once wrote, "The only thing that counts is faith working itself out in love" (Galatians 5:6). We can't change the system. But we can ask God to show us how to have greater concern for our neighbour. We can expect Sabbath to change us.

As you journey on, hear Jesus' invitation:

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls (Matthew 11:28-29).