For those who want a change from the Gospel

Kingdom 1/4 before Advent – Micah 3:5-12

We used to sing a song in the old days which began ‘Think of a world without any flowers’ (remember that?) Well today’s passage invites us to think of a world without any prophets. Or, perhaps, to think of a world with only artificial flowers/prophets. Micah was writing in the early 700s, just before the siege of Jerusalem by Sennacherib King of Assyria. The nation had enjoyed a long period of relative peace, but the biblical prophets knew better. Sooner of later the nation’s corruption and idolatry would lead to pay-back time, when Assyria captured the North and 100 years later Babylon overran the South, including Jerusalem. The role of the prophets was to warn the people, to turn them from both their idolatry and their immorality, and thus avert God’s anger from them. But Micah paints a picture instead of ‘tame’ prophets who would say anything you wanted if you paid them well enough. Needless to say, what the people wanted were prophecies of peace and prosperity.

So Micah warns of a time when the voices of the prophets would be silenced, and when God would stop speaking. He also denounces the national and religious leaders who, because they have listened to the false prophets, are leading and indeed worshipping with corruption. So what would it be like to live in a world without any prophets?

A question behind this question, of course, is ‘What do we mean by “prophets”?’ Are we simply to think of OT prophets, wild and hairy men confronting kings and calling down fire from heaven? Or are they more like modern-day charismatic prophets who stand up in meetings and say things like ‘My children, I love you’? or are the prophets actually people like Martin Luther King and even Gandhi who inspire others to live better? Are we to think of prophets as the conscience of the nation, and like biblical prophets are they doomed always to be ignored at best or assassinated at worst? The answer is probably ‘all of the above’, but a nation which no longer has those willing to stand up and call people to something better is in dire trouble. Much later Jesus was to weep over Jerusalem as the city which had persecuted and killed the prophets, not many years before the Temple was razed to the ground (again) in AD70.

I’m not one of those who believes that what the Bible calls prophecy is actually only the faithful preaching of Scripture. I do believe in a God who speaks and brings revelation thorough the Holy Spirit, sometimes with life-changing consequences. But I also believe that in the pages of the Bible we have God’s living word to us, and that to ignore it is to walk dangerously near to trouble. So as Christians one of our roles, I believe, is to live lives which call people back to biblical standards, not necessarily by what we say, but by how we live, and in particular how we refuse to live in a corrupt culture. In a nation where trust has largely broken down, where virtually any kind of leadership is seen as corrupt, and where the conscience God has put into us is more and more silenced, there is an important role for the Church to be seen to be different. Instead, we seem to be bent on trying to be seen as ‘relevant’.

One of the maxims of church growth is that a local church is more likely to grow if it is perceived by the community in which it is set as useful. Just this week there was a report on BBC News of a church which was offering practical help to those whose homes had been devastated by floods, and I’m sure it was by no means the only church to be doing the same. That church will be building up capital by its usefulness, and gaining the respect of people which has been lost to other institutions which are perceived to have been useless. That care for devastated people was a prophetic action, and no doubt they are praying that for many, changed lives will result.

Think of a world without anything like that, where the survivors are those who can afford to pay for it and stuff everyone else, and where the voice of normal humanity and conscience has been washed away altogether. That was Micah’s world: pray God it won’t be ours.

For those who want a change from the Gospel

Last after Trinity – Leviticus 19:1-2, 15-18 (Related)

The section of the book of Leviticus from which our passage comes is often called the ‘Holiness Code’ (Lev 17-27). These chapters spell out how, and why, Israelites should live differently from the nations around them. The whole of chapter 19 seems like a hotch-potch of odd laws, from which we pick and choose which ones we fancy obeying nowadays. So most Christians would probably agree that deliberately making blind people trip over (v.14) is probably not good behaviour, yet we blithely wear poly-cotton clothing (v.19), we almost certainly do not grow side-mullets (v.27), but we’re happy to plant different crops in our vegetable patches (v.19). And going further afield in Leviticus, most of us are happy to eat prawns, even if we draw the line at herons (Lev 11:12, 19). And don’t even go near the sexual restrictions in chapter 18, most of which we would still uphold today whilst we are busy legislating to ignore others. The whole book, in fact presents us with some hermeneutical conundrums: how exactly are we supposed to interpret and obey such regulations?

A literalist approach would say that we are still bound by all these laws as written, but few Christians subscribe to that view. The opposite extreme is to say that now that we have Jesus none of this, or indeed any of the OT applies any more. But surely we’d still want to uphold justice and integrity in our dealings with others? The NT does give us some precedent for ignoring some of the OT regulations now that we are no longer living under the Law, but in the grace of Christ. But is there a deeper and more sensible way of reading Leviticus, and in particular the sections on holiness?

It’s always a good principle when seeking to interpret Scripture to try to understand what the text is really saying. Is there a guiding principle by which we might understand the rest? The key to our chapter comes at its start: God’s people are to be holy, just as he is holy. God is not like us. He is what the theologians describe as ‘transcendent’, way over, above and apart from his creation. We who are made in his image reflect him, but we are not perfectly like him, as a photo of the sunsets I enjoyed last week in Turkey can never capture on my phone the full beauty of what we actually saw and felt. Therefore, in the light of that, we are to grow more and more to reflect God’s image in us, and we do this partly because he has given us the potential, but also by our own refusal to act in ways which run counter to that holiness. So it is easy to see how showing favouritism or seeking bloody revenge are by that definition unholy, and few would have any argument with those moral kind of principles. Those, interestingly, are the bits of the chapter not filleted out by the lectionary. But the problems come when we see, on the same page, other rules which we find it hard to equate to holiness, such as our hairstyles or farming techniques.

Perhaps the answer, or at least a way forward, is to read this chapter through the lens of difference. Look at the world around you. You won’t have to look far to see people who cheat, lie, hate foreigners or practice the occult. What would it mean for you to I’ve differently from people like these, rather reflecting the holiness of God? What would it mean for the Jewish community to live differently, and be recognised to be doing so? Maybe then the other portions which seem less moral are rather badges or signs of difference. Go to any multicultural part of a British city and you’ll easily recognise people of different faiths by the way they look and dress. Christians are not commanded to look particularly distinctive in terms of hairstyles or uniforms, but maybe the whole point is that it is our behaviour which should make us recognisable and distinctive. In today’s Gospel Jesus is asked what the most important commandment is, and his answer reflects morality rather than physical appearance. The old song says that people will know we are Christians by our love: maybe today’s readings say that they should know we are Christians by our holiness, our difference from the world around us.

For those who want a change from the Gospel

Trinity 20 – Isaiah 45:1-7 (Related)

Many years ago now I made a big mistake. I remember it well because it happens so rarely! I was speaking at an event, and for my sins I was doing a young people’s slot, aimed at teenagers. In those days I was desperately trendy, so I decided to base my talk around several current songs, which nowadays would be classed as Ibiza Classics, but which then were all the rage. As I was doing what I thought was a rather good talk on discipleship, service and our heavenly reward, through the medium of Dance music, I could feel the atmosphere in the room chilling. The response I got at the end made it all clear. Just before this, the youth leader had made all the kids chuck away all their secular CDs (remember them?) because only Christian worship music was acceptable for Christians, the rest apparently being satanic. And now I had come in and used Fatboy Slim, ATB, Alice DJ and the rest to encourage them in their discipleship. Of course I apologised profusely. However naïve and stupid I thought this point of view to be, I would never use a speaking gig deliberately to undermine a particular church’s teaching. But the storm I created raged on for some while.

Isaiah, I believe, would have agreed with me, and this passage explains why I believe that. In the second part of the book which bears his name, the prophet has turned up out of the blue to announce to the exiles in Babylon that God had come to comfort them, that their sins had been paid for, and their captivity was about to come to and end. But how exactly was this going to happen? The prophet explains in chapter 45. He is going to use Cyrus, the pagan king of Persia, to attack and conquer Babylon, and then Cyrus is going to allow the captive Jews to return home. This is exactly what happened. The underlying message to this great news is that God can use anyone, even those who do not know or acknowledge him, to work out his purposes. Verses 1-2 explain that God is going to lead this conquering king by the hand, that he will remove anything which stands in his way, and help him in the defeat and looting of Babylon. For the sake of his people, God will allow Cyrus great honour and wealth, even though he does not acknowledge God. but the most incredible thing is the term used in v.1, where God calls Cyrus his ‘anointed’, the English translation of the Hebrew from which we get the term ‘Messiah’. God is going to use this pagan king in a way similar to the way in which he would later use Jesus, to set his people free. So it appears that God is able to use people who do not acknowledge or even know him for his purposes.

But we all know that, don’t we? Only recently I had one of the most profound spiritual experiences of my life, triggered by a random Peter Gabriel track which happened to pop up while I was listening to music and working on my computer. In fact, there are times when I find myself drawn into profound worship through the art and music of people who as far as I know have no Christian faith at all. Far more so, in fact, than I do through the genre of ‘contemporary Christian music’, which largely bores me to tears. To close our ears to ‘secular’ music is an unnecessary policy when God speaks so clearly through anyone whom he chooses to use.

But there’s another motif in this passage, which is perhaps the most important message of all. It is captured in the repeated phrase ‘so you may know …’ God uses the lives of those who have no interest in him or knowledge of him so that we may know. What do we know? That there is nothing or no-one, no situation or event, which is outside or beyond his control. Elsewhere in the OT God is seen as the one who directs the nations, moves them around for his purposes, brings them victory or defeat according to his will. That’s how big our God is. If he can use the might of the Persian Empire and its ruler like that, for the blessing of his people, I’m pretty sure that on a good day he might be able to use Fatboy Slim.

For those who want a change from the Gospel

Trinity 18 – Isaiah 25:1-9 (Related)

Every day’s a school day. I learnt a new word this week – ‘anagogic’. It comes from two Greek words which mean ‘to be led above’, and it refers to a method of biblical exegesis, popular in mediaeval times, in which a passage is seen as having a much higher, or longer, focus. It’s like being taken up a mountain to get a different perspective on what life in the valley is really like. Isaiah 25 stands out like a mountain peak from the series of grim oracles of judgement to be found in chapters 13-24, and suddenly we are able to see things we have never seen before, with the result that a new song of praise to God comes forth from within us.

Clearly, in contrast to the very specific promises of judgement and destruction, this is a timeless prophecy. There’s a clue in the motif in v.8 of the end of death: no-one expects that to happen in this life. So what extra might we be able to see from on high, or from the perspective of the end of time, that we can’t see clearly now. And what effect might all that have on our present struggles?

For the last few chapters Isaiah has been prophesying against the nations around Judah, beginning with Babylon, who were soon going to capture Jerusalem and exile the people. but he has also added Jerusalem to the list (Is 22). The Jews are going to be the recipients of God’s anger every bit as much as the pagan nations they hate and fear. But in this vision we are led up to see beyond the coming destruction, and gain a longer perspective. The foreigners’ city (unspecified) is going to become a heap of rubble, never to be rebuilt. And the foreigners themselves are going to hold the Jews in honour, and be the recipients of God’s bounty at a great feast. This is more than just Magnificat theology, where the mighty are cast down and the humble and meek exalted. It is an eschatological vision of a world in harmony, where death, sorrow and disgrace will be things of the past. What looked so devastating from the valley floor is a mere blip when you can see from the mountaintop.

But what is really interesting about this passage is what it reveals of God. The people are encouraged to praise God’s name, although his name is not given here. But Isaiah’s favourite name for God, which occurs across all three sections of the book, is ‘The Holy One of Israel’. It is God’s holiness, and not his love, which is to be celebrated. And that personal holiness, a characteristic of God, shows itself in righteousness, his treatment of his creation. So the uproar of Judah’s oppressors is silenced, and their ruthlessness is stilled. Instead, let’s all have a great banquet, where those same ruthless people will come to honour God and his people.

But there are two other interesting pictures of God here. The first is that he is a shelter from the storm and a shade from the heat (v.4), where the oppression of the nations is seen as stormy or hot. How does a shelter work? It absorbs. It comes between us and the danger and takes the oppression on itself so that it doesn’t get through to us. Umbrellas do keep us dry, but they get wet themselves. God doesn’t remove evil but he does absorb it so that we are protected. That sounds just like the cross to me! The disciples and others expected Jesus to defeat the Roman oppressors, but he took in his body the violence that should have been ours. And then there’s that unusual phrase in v.8, about God ‘swallowing up’ death. It’s the same idea. God absorbs death in himself. He is, in the words of one commentator, the ‘death-eater’.

When you’re struggling in the valley, or living in a bombed-out shell of a building in Ukraine, or desperately trying to escape the Taliban in Afghanistan, all you can see is the here and now, just as Judah could only see the collapse of their nation and the looming threat from those around. God reminds his people that there is a longer view, calls them to praise him, and promises a future of life and prosperity. I’m glad to be one of his people!

For those who want a change from the Gospel

Trinity 18 – Isaiah 5:1-7 (Related)

‘You can’t always get what you want’ screamed Mick Jagger in 1969. God would agree. Even for God, it doesn’t always go smoothly, and this song is an 8^th century predecessor of the Stones’ anthem. It’s the tale of a landowner who wanted a great crop and a wonderful vintage from his vines, and it was such a popular song that 800 odd years on Jesus was alluding to it.

But, as the song says, you can’t always get what you want, and with a series of puns Isaiah expresses God’s disappointment that the fruit he was hoping for from his people Israel was highly disappointing, to say the least. He had hoped for justice, mishpat, but found only bloodshed, mishpah: he wanted righteousness, tsedikah, but instead found a cry of distress, tsakah.

When Jesus retold this story, as in today’s Gospel, it was with a subtle twist. It was the tenants of the vineyard who were crooked, a reference, which they themselves recognised, to the religious leaders of Israel. But here the emphasis is different: the vineyard itself is corrupt, not those who are tending it. In fact God is the vintner, and he does all he can to ensure its fruitfulness, but to no avail. You can almost sense his bewilderment and disappointment. How on earth can this have happened? Jesus might have blamed the leaders, but here it is the whole thing which has become corrupt.

It can be good sometimes to be able to blame others, particularly when we are lamenting the state of an organisation, such as an incompetent of even corrupt government, or a marginalised, divided and ineffective Church. If only the Government/Bishops/Vicar/whatever weren’t so awful we’d all be in a much better state. But Isaiah reminds us here that corruption can go beyond leaders, important though they are in setting the tone and culture. And the harsh words of judgement, which come, interestingly, after God’s invitation to the onlookers to tell him what they think he should do about this situation, are not for others, but for all of us who are a part of the system. The vineyard of the Lord Almighty is the sum of his people, and that includes us.

But historically there were other reasons why listeners might have found it easier to point the finger at others rather than themselves. This parable is clearly about the destruction of Jerusalem and the exile of Judah, but that was decades in the future, while the devastation of the Northern Kingdom of Israel would have been fresh in everyone’s minds. It would have been easy to hear this song as an explanation of why the North had been overrun, rather than as a challenge to us here and now.

So how do we hear words of criticism and judgement? Does Isaiah give us a good model here? I think there are two hints as to how we hear (and give) criticism well. The first is to resist the temptation to hear it as aimed at others, and to ask whether it might just be for us. When my wife was a teacher a regular response to a telling off was the phrase ‘Miss, he made me do it!’ We might want to reject the criticism as nasty and unjust, but we must begin by trying on the cap to see if it does in any small way fit. Are there any ways in which God might be disappointed with me, any areas where in looking for justice and righteousness he finds only bloodshed and pain, literal or figurative? It never hurts to ask ourselves those kinds of questions, and it might be that repentance is required.

But the second strategy for hearing criticism is to ask some questions about the critic. We all face unfair accusation from time to time, and the best way to deal with it is to be secure enough in our own personalities to let it wash over our heads and to pray for those who persecute us. Easier said than done, I know, but still right. But God’s disappointment with his chosen people here is different. Look at the beginning: the vineyard is, perhaps strangely, ‘the one he loves’. This is the starting point, and we must never forget that. Then there is the invitation to think about it. V.3-4 invite the objects of God’s judgement to participate in deciding whether or not it is fair. This is not the cruel act of someone who has taken against us, but the logically thought-out response to our misguided actions.

Thirdly, looking at the much broader context, there is always hope. The book of Isaiah will move on to promise restoration and reinstatement for God’s people after a period of exile, and of course in Jesus there is condemnation only for the most hard-hearted and unrepentant. Criticism, if it is not deliberately vindictive, is redemptive and healing. So what is this text saying to you today which might require action?