We all like celebrations except, of course, for those times when we don’t – those times when we’re not in the mood, those times when we feel left out, those times when we’d rather be doing something else. That’s how it was for the elder brother in Jesus’ famous parable of the prodigal son.
That is especially so in verse 25 and verse 28: "In the meantime the elder son was out in the field. On his way back, when he came close to the house, he heard the music and dancing. .... The elder brother was so angry that he would not go into the house; so his father came out and begged him to come in."
The story is well known. It is one of the all-time favourite parables. It’s a vivid account of a wayward son. But I’m not going to explore the whole story – because my interest at the moment is simply in the reaction of the elder son.
His father was quite clear. This was party-time. It didn’t matter what the younger son had done. I am sure that the father no more wanted to commend that than did his big brother. This isn’t about saying to him: what you’ve done doesn’t really matter. This about saying: you’re back. This is the joy of reunion. This is the joy of having the family complete again. For the time being, what has happened is irrelevant. What matters is to celebrate the moment. The party must have been thrown together pretty quickly, but then I suppose that’s what happens in such a situation. It is simply not relevant to plan and to wait.
And so, by the time big brother gets home from the day’s work, ready to watch the television, or whatever the first century equivalent was, the thing is in full swing. What’s happening? A natural question. But when he gets the answer it doesn’t provoke in him the remotest desire to join in. He is furious. He wants none of it. All his years of hard work have gone without any such reward. But now his waster of a young brother is back and the red carpet is rolled out. And the celebration is lavish. You don’t kill a calf unless you are throwing a big party!
This is the backdrop to a conversation between the father and his older son. The dilemma is that they are operating on different value systems. Of course, the father values all that the older son has contributed to the family business. Who wouldn’t? Of course, he recognises his commitment and loyalty. But he can’t help himself from jumping for joy because the younger son is back, This was a day that he had longed for, a day that he may well have thought would never come – we had to celebrate and be happy, because your brother was dead, but now he is alive; he was lost, but now he has been found.
In many ways I think that the challenge of this parable, and especially this last bit of it, is to recognise that God sees things differently from us.
I think there is an interesting parallel with another parable, that of the workers in the vineyard recorded in Matthew 20. That’s the one in which the vineyard owner progressively hired more and more workers through the day. Then, at the end of the day, he paid them all the same, giving rise to the inevitable view from those who had worked the longest that it wasn’t fair. They needed to learn: don’t I have the right to do as I wish with my own money? Or are you jealous because I am generous? Actually, it is pretty clear that they were jealous.
This story, like that one, almost invites our jealousy. Surely the father has been over-extravagant. Is it really necessary to offer such a lavish response to the younger son’s return? No wonder the older brother is angry.
I think, in the end, we are left with two key questions. The first question for me is about how the story ends. What happened? We’re not actually told whether the older son was persuaded by his father or not. Did he go in to the party or did he stick it out? We simply don’t know. We might like to think that the father’s happiness was made complete by some kind of reconciliation between the two brothers. That is certainly perfectly possible. There’s nothing that says it didn’t happen. But somehow, and in a sense I wish it were otherwise, that’s not the feeling comes over. The older son seems pretty dug in. As one of the commentators puts it: “The uncomfortable feeling lingers that perhaps there is still one lost son.”
The other question moves it on to the personal level. Where do we fit in to the story? What would we have done? It’s about our feelings now, our response. As one commentator puts it: “Well, where are you in the end? Inside, joining in the celebration, or stuck outside, hearing the music and dancing but too angry to go in?”
Tuesday 21 July 2009
Monday 20 July 2009
Doing Justice with Amos - Amos 5:21-24
Sentiments encouraging us to justice occur in many places in the Bible, but certainly not least in the prophets. I guess one of my favourite statements on this theme comes in the stirring words recorded by Amos in Amos 5:21-24 – "I spurn with loathing your pilgrim-feasts; I take no pleasure in your sacred ceremonies. When you bring me your whole-offerings and your grain-offerings I shall not accept them, nor pay heed to your shared-offerings of stall-fed beasts. Spare me the sound of your songs; I shall not listen to the strumming of your lutes. Instead, let justice flow on like a river and righteousness like a never-failing torrent."
Well, there’s not an awful lot held back here, is there? I spurn with loathing. I take no pleasure. I shall not accept. Spare me the sound of your songs. I shall not listen.
Amos is an interesting character. He began his prophetic task around the middle of the 8th century BC. He is the first of Israel’s prophets to have his words preserved in written form, though he was certainly not the first prophet. Elijah and Elisha were amongst those who had preceded him and, though there is some record of their activities, it is interesting that neither of them gets a book of their teaching preserved, while the likes of Amos does.
Though he is interesting, we actually know very little of Amos, only what we can glean from the nine chapters that make up his book. He is never mentioned in the historical books of Kings and Chronicles. His home was somewhere near Tekoa in the southern kingdom of Judah, though his prophetic ministry took place in the northern kingdom of Israel. He had something to do with sheep and fig trees. He apparently had visions and was involved in a confrontation with the priest at Bethel. He seems to have had a thing about the people going on pilgrimage to Bethel and their thinking that by engaging in a pilgrimage they could do just what they liked the rest of the time. Not so, says Amos, and he offers a clear call to a different way of living – in which the pilgrimage impacts on every other aspect of life. Amos has no time for what a friend of mine once called ‘Sunday Christians’.
He expects faith and worship to be lived out in everyday detail. Amos would have got on well with James. James 2:17 – "So with faith; if it does not lead to action, it is by itself a lifeless thing." Earlier in the chapter it is made clear that God’s concern is with what is going on inside the people, not with any external demonstrations of piety. That’s in Amos 5:4/5 – "These are the words of the Lord to the people of Israel: if you would live, make your way to me, not to Bethel; do not go to Gilgal or pass on to Beersheba; for Gilgal will surely go into exile and Bethel come to nothing."
Amos condemns the traditional holy places, clearly indicating that lifestyle is far more important than location. What matters is that the people behave themselves, not where they do it. There is a wealth of religion in verses 21 to 23. It’s what we might call Gilgal, or Bethel, religion. Festivals, sacrifices and music are all evident and abundant. There is no doubt that they went in for religion in a big way at Gilgal. They took it seriously. They gave full expression to their religious joys, singing songs to the accompaniment of harps. The vibrancy and excitement virtually communicates itself. One can almost hear them singing. Only God can’t. I doubt if there are any other Biblical passages that so vehemently and so lucidly express the divine distaste. I spurn. I shall not. Instead.
They went to Gilgal to be religious, but they left their religion behind when they went home. Pilgrims rolled in to the festivals, but justice and righteousness failed to roll out into everyday life and relationships. Therefore their religion stank so far as God was concerned. When, in verse 21, it says I take no pleasure in .. , that literally means ‘I will not breathe in the odour of’. God rejects the worship the people offer him, looking instead for justice and righteousness.
What are these? What is this about? In verse 7 there is a reference to you that turn justice to poison. This indicates justice as being something that involves the treatment of other people. Justice is right behaviour in relation to others. The good person wants what is good for others, what is good for the neighbours. That is what he works towards.
In the same verse 7 righteousness is depicted as something thrown to the ground –"you thrust righteousness to the ground." This suggests righteousness to be a standard or a norm that is rejected. This measure of how things are is not taken up.
Amos here offers a clear expression of what God will not countenance and what God demands. It is simply not possible to offer God worship while trampling justice underfoot. Amos rejects a cult that is too rich in ceremony. He is looking for something different. Amos’ remarks must have seemed monstrous to his contemporaries, as they called in question the whole religious life of the Israelities. Amos is wanting to press another way.
The trouble with the Gilgal theology is that it kept religion in a sealed compartment. It was an activity isolated from the rest of life. What we have here is a tick box kind of mentality. Do the religious bit. Do the worship bit, then tick it off and move on to something else. There is always a risk that chuch can be viewed like that. Fulfil your obligations, and then it doesn’t matter how you behave the rest of the time.
Amos is stunningly clear that that is not how things should be. That view, of course, puts him firmly in the prophetic tradition. He knows that such a stance was never God’s intention for his people. What is needed is joined-up thinking. Their faith and their lifestyle need to influence each other. Is Amos saying that worship is a waste of time? I don’t think so – not for one minute.
But he is saying that meaningless worhip is precisely that – meaningless. Their worship needs to be accompanied by justice and righteousness. Justice and righteousness must not be things of fits and starts. They must be a consistent feature of the nation’s life if its corporate and organised worship is to be pleasing to God, so maintaining a proper relationship with him.
The metaphor used for the impact of justice and righteousness is that of water. Justice is to flow like a river. Righteousness is to be like a never-failing torrent. This has been Amos’ complaint all along. The torrent is the stream that flows from the hills in flood when the rains come, but dries up in the hot, dry summer. Rather, it should be never-failing.
Well, there’s not an awful lot held back here, is there? I spurn with loathing. I take no pleasure. I shall not accept. Spare me the sound of your songs. I shall not listen.
Amos is an interesting character. He began his prophetic task around the middle of the 8th century BC. He is the first of Israel’s prophets to have his words preserved in written form, though he was certainly not the first prophet. Elijah and Elisha were amongst those who had preceded him and, though there is some record of their activities, it is interesting that neither of them gets a book of their teaching preserved, while the likes of Amos does.
Though he is interesting, we actually know very little of Amos, only what we can glean from the nine chapters that make up his book. He is never mentioned in the historical books of Kings and Chronicles. His home was somewhere near Tekoa in the southern kingdom of Judah, though his prophetic ministry took place in the northern kingdom of Israel. He had something to do with sheep and fig trees. He apparently had visions and was involved in a confrontation with the priest at Bethel. He seems to have had a thing about the people going on pilgrimage to Bethel and their thinking that by engaging in a pilgrimage they could do just what they liked the rest of the time. Not so, says Amos, and he offers a clear call to a different way of living – in which the pilgrimage impacts on every other aspect of life. Amos has no time for what a friend of mine once called ‘Sunday Christians’.
He expects faith and worship to be lived out in everyday detail. Amos would have got on well with James. James 2:17 – "So with faith; if it does not lead to action, it is by itself a lifeless thing." Earlier in the chapter it is made clear that God’s concern is with what is going on inside the people, not with any external demonstrations of piety. That’s in Amos 5:4/5 – "These are the words of the Lord to the people of Israel: if you would live, make your way to me, not to Bethel; do not go to Gilgal or pass on to Beersheba; for Gilgal will surely go into exile and Bethel come to nothing."
Amos condemns the traditional holy places, clearly indicating that lifestyle is far more important than location. What matters is that the people behave themselves, not where they do it. There is a wealth of religion in verses 21 to 23. It’s what we might call Gilgal, or Bethel, religion. Festivals, sacrifices and music are all evident and abundant. There is no doubt that they went in for religion in a big way at Gilgal. They took it seriously. They gave full expression to their religious joys, singing songs to the accompaniment of harps. The vibrancy and excitement virtually communicates itself. One can almost hear them singing. Only God can’t. I doubt if there are any other Biblical passages that so vehemently and so lucidly express the divine distaste. I spurn. I shall not. Instead.
They went to Gilgal to be religious, but they left their religion behind when they went home. Pilgrims rolled in to the festivals, but justice and righteousness failed to roll out into everyday life and relationships. Therefore their religion stank so far as God was concerned. When, in verse 21, it says I take no pleasure in .. , that literally means ‘I will not breathe in the odour of’. God rejects the worship the people offer him, looking instead for justice and righteousness.
What are these? What is this about? In verse 7 there is a reference to you that turn justice to poison. This indicates justice as being something that involves the treatment of other people. Justice is right behaviour in relation to others. The good person wants what is good for others, what is good for the neighbours. That is what he works towards.
In the same verse 7 righteousness is depicted as something thrown to the ground –"you thrust righteousness to the ground." This suggests righteousness to be a standard or a norm that is rejected. This measure of how things are is not taken up.
Amos here offers a clear expression of what God will not countenance and what God demands. It is simply not possible to offer God worship while trampling justice underfoot. Amos rejects a cult that is too rich in ceremony. He is looking for something different. Amos’ remarks must have seemed monstrous to his contemporaries, as they called in question the whole religious life of the Israelities. Amos is wanting to press another way.
The trouble with the Gilgal theology is that it kept religion in a sealed compartment. It was an activity isolated from the rest of life. What we have here is a tick box kind of mentality. Do the religious bit. Do the worship bit, then tick it off and move on to something else. There is always a risk that chuch can be viewed like that. Fulfil your obligations, and then it doesn’t matter how you behave the rest of the time.
Amos is stunningly clear that that is not how things should be. That view, of course, puts him firmly in the prophetic tradition. He knows that such a stance was never God’s intention for his people. What is needed is joined-up thinking. Their faith and their lifestyle need to influence each other. Is Amos saying that worship is a waste of time? I don’t think so – not for one minute.
But he is saying that meaningless worhip is precisely that – meaningless. Their worship needs to be accompanied by justice and righteousness. Justice and righteousness must not be things of fits and starts. They must be a consistent feature of the nation’s life if its corporate and organised worship is to be pleasing to God, so maintaining a proper relationship with him.
The metaphor used for the impact of justice and righteousness is that of water. Justice is to flow like a river. Righteousness is to be like a never-failing torrent. This has been Amos’ complaint all along. The torrent is the stream that flows from the hills in flood when the rains come, but dries up in the hot, dry summer. Rather, it should be never-failing.
Saturday 18 July 2009
Building God's House: Or Not? - 2 Samuel 7
At the time of 2 Samuel 7 David is an important character. He has settled down. He has made it. He is, as the first verse of 2 Samuel 7 puts it, 'established in his palace'. This is a fascinating passage, this account in 2 Samuel 7 of what happens when David tells the prophet that he wants to build a place of worship.
David is now a formidable force on the world scene. He is an established figure politically. As the latter part of 2 Samuel 7:1 puts it, 'the Lord had given him security from his enemies on all sides'. Things have gone well for David and he’s enjoying the prosperity. He’s enjoying the power. He is very happy with what he has achieved. It’s a settled period and roots are being put down.
David is doing quite nicely, but a pang of guilt suggests to him that perhaps he has not done too well by God. David is feeling a bit guilty that he has invested so much in his own comfort, but done nothing about the provision of an appropriate worship space.
The people have moved on – so that they are not now moving on all the time, but God, as it were, has apparently been left behind still in their nomadic phase. 'Here I am living in a house of cedar, while the Ark of God is housed in a tent'. David wants to do something about the provision that has been made for God’s house, for the place of worship.
Nathan, like any good church minister, welcomes the prospect of this major donation –'Do whatever you have in mind, for the Lord is with you'. It sounds great. But has David got it right? David has got kingship right. He has taken the people to a good place. They are settled. They are prosperous. But we’re about to discover that he hasn’t got his theology right. Nor, of course, has the prophet.
But, before we go on to say just a little about that, let’s remind ourselves that we, too, sometimes need to be moved in an unexpected direction by God. There are times when we think we’ve got it all mapped out, but actually we’re working off the wrong map. It’s our one, not God’s.
But let’s get back to our story. Nathan has told David to get on with putting his plan into action – but now he has got to reverse his advice because God tells him that he needs to tell David something different. Indeed, he needs to tell him precisely the opposite. The donation is to be turned down. The point is, of course, a theological one, as well as a practical one. The tent, in which God has so far dwelled, is a symbol of mobility. It indicates that God is on the move. In essence, David wants to pin God down. David wants to make sure that God is always there for him.
Now I don’t actually think there is anything wrong with wanting to pin God down. It’s natural. We all want to do it. We want to know that God is there for us. We want to do that, just as much as David did. But we need to learn, just as David did, that you can’t. I am not, of course, saying that God isn’t there for us. Of course, God is. That is fundamental. But it is equally fundamental that God is not necessarily there for us in the way that we want.
David has settled down. Now he starts thinking about getting God settled down as well. Only God doesn’t do settling down. David wants to give God a permanent roof, to try and make sure God doesn’t wander any longer, to create a place for God that removes any need to be vagrant or itinerant. Only God is not – and never will be – ready to be domesticated. God has been free and God will continue to be free. Even a royal apparatus as great as that of David is not able to make God its patron. The proposed permanent residence for God is unacceptable because it violates God’s freedom. God cannot be pinned down. Most of us try to do that at some time or other – but it just doesn’t work.
Now, of course, all this doesn’t mean that God isn’t interested in David. It doesn’t mean that God isn’t there for David. But what it does mean is that it is God who is setting the agenda. It is not David who is doing that. We all quite like to think that we can set God’s agenda – but we can’t. But the great thing is that the very fact that we can’t opens up all sorts of possibilities. What’s going on here is not David being limited because he can’t get enough of God. Rather, David is to find himself fulfilling a potential beyond his dreams because of what God makes possible.
There’s an interesting little play on words in verse 11. David has wanted to build God a house, a temple. That’s not to be for David. The house-building is to be done by God. God will build for David a house, a dynasty. Up to this point David’s concern has simply been with gaining the support of God to enable him to engage in a successful reign of king. But now the promise is that that is only part of the story. His reign is the start of a dynasty. The promise of God, through the prophet, takes us on a great leap into the future.
In words from Ephesians, chapter 3, verse 20, 'God has done for David more than all we can ask or conceive'.
David is now a formidable force on the world scene. He is an established figure politically. As the latter part of 2 Samuel 7:1 puts it, 'the Lord had given him security from his enemies on all sides'. Things have gone well for David and he’s enjoying the prosperity. He’s enjoying the power. He is very happy with what he has achieved. It’s a settled period and roots are being put down.
David is doing quite nicely, but a pang of guilt suggests to him that perhaps he has not done too well by God. David is feeling a bit guilty that he has invested so much in his own comfort, but done nothing about the provision of an appropriate worship space.
The people have moved on – so that they are not now moving on all the time, but God, as it were, has apparently been left behind still in their nomadic phase. 'Here I am living in a house of cedar, while the Ark of God is housed in a tent'. David wants to do something about the provision that has been made for God’s house, for the place of worship.
Nathan, like any good church minister, welcomes the prospect of this major donation –'Do whatever you have in mind, for the Lord is with you'. It sounds great. But has David got it right? David has got kingship right. He has taken the people to a good place. They are settled. They are prosperous. But we’re about to discover that he hasn’t got his theology right. Nor, of course, has the prophet.
But, before we go on to say just a little about that, let’s remind ourselves that we, too, sometimes need to be moved in an unexpected direction by God. There are times when we think we’ve got it all mapped out, but actually we’re working off the wrong map. It’s our one, not God’s.
But let’s get back to our story. Nathan has told David to get on with putting his plan into action – but now he has got to reverse his advice because God tells him that he needs to tell David something different. Indeed, he needs to tell him precisely the opposite. The donation is to be turned down. The point is, of course, a theological one, as well as a practical one. The tent, in which God has so far dwelled, is a symbol of mobility. It indicates that God is on the move. In essence, David wants to pin God down. David wants to make sure that God is always there for him.
Now I don’t actually think there is anything wrong with wanting to pin God down. It’s natural. We all want to do it. We want to know that God is there for us. We want to do that, just as much as David did. But we need to learn, just as David did, that you can’t. I am not, of course, saying that God isn’t there for us. Of course, God is. That is fundamental. But it is equally fundamental that God is not necessarily there for us in the way that we want.
David has settled down. Now he starts thinking about getting God settled down as well. Only God doesn’t do settling down. David wants to give God a permanent roof, to try and make sure God doesn’t wander any longer, to create a place for God that removes any need to be vagrant or itinerant. Only God is not – and never will be – ready to be domesticated. God has been free and God will continue to be free. Even a royal apparatus as great as that of David is not able to make God its patron. The proposed permanent residence for God is unacceptable because it violates God’s freedom. God cannot be pinned down. Most of us try to do that at some time or other – but it just doesn’t work.
Now, of course, all this doesn’t mean that God isn’t interested in David. It doesn’t mean that God isn’t there for David. But what it does mean is that it is God who is setting the agenda. It is not David who is doing that. We all quite like to think that we can set God’s agenda – but we can’t. But the great thing is that the very fact that we can’t opens up all sorts of possibilities. What’s going on here is not David being limited because he can’t get enough of God. Rather, David is to find himself fulfilling a potential beyond his dreams because of what God makes possible.
There’s an interesting little play on words in verse 11. David has wanted to build God a house, a temple. That’s not to be for David. The house-building is to be done by God. God will build for David a house, a dynasty. Up to this point David’s concern has simply been with gaining the support of God to enable him to engage in a successful reign of king. But now the promise is that that is only part of the story. His reign is the start of a dynasty. The promise of God, through the prophet, takes us on a great leap into the future.
In words from Ephesians, chapter 3, verse 20, 'God has done for David more than all we can ask or conceive'.
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