A backward look—A future hope: (Amos 5:18–24)

September 10, 2018

As I write this, ¹ I begin yet another academic year; this one, however, is my final journey through what has been a routine for the past forty years of my life. In this article I will attempt to summarize briefly some of the key elements that have marked those forty years, with emphasis upon what has provided the impetus for all that I have done and what has enabled me to maintain energy and excitement for a vocation that in some ways becomes ever more difficult year by year.

Upon my discharge from the Navy in 1972, I began my MDiv journey at Southern Seminary in Louisville, KY. In the first year of seminary, my interest in the Old Testament and Hebrew was awakened, and continued to grow throughout my MDiv experience. I began seminary without ever having experienced the formal study of the Bible in an academic setting. In my case, at least, that was a plus—I had less to unlearn.

My wife and I married between semesters that first year, and from that point on my journey was enriched by her support and companionship. Unlike most of our students these days, my primary focus was on seminary. The GI bill and Sharon’s job made that possible. I benefitted through exposure to some wonderful professors. I was introduced to a different way of reading and hearing the biblical message—one that moved the text out of the dry wasteland of rote Baptist Bible to the challenging application of the biblical word to everyday reality.

I don’t believe I had any idea what I would do with a seminary degree when I began at Southern. As my MDiv experience drew to a close, I was encouraged by one of my mentors to consider PhD studies. It was a foregone conclusion that I would do so with a focus on Old Testament studies. It was a seamless transition from one academic environment to another. As I focused on Old Testament Theology, Hebrew, and Greek for my seminar work, my engagement with the Bible took on greater depth and provided the foundation for all that followed.

The PhD experience involved a whole sequence of jumping through various hoops, each a bit more difficult than the previous one. In some ways, it was an endurance contest. At the same time, the interaction with fellow doctoral students and professors in seminars and colloquia proved to be an enriching time. I did not comprehend how much value would come from those days. I taught elementary Hebrew to any number of MDiv students during my final two years of doctoral study and, in many ways, that experience jump-started my love of teaching.

I must acknowledge my indebtedness to professors and mentors, some of whom later became colleagues. Without their encouragement and support, my vocation would never have been possible. J. J. Owens, Roy Honeycutt, Page Kelley, John Watts, and Marvin Tate, all now deceased, opened doors for me—doors of vocational opportunity, but, more importantly, doors of understanding what the Bible, especially the Hebrew Bible, is all about.

Any backward look requires attention to the message of the Old Testament prophets. Though there are many aspects of the Old Testament message that impact me in powerful ways, none surpasses the impact of the prophetic texts. From my first in-depth study of the prophets, the relevance of those texts for virtually any context of human experience became crystal clear, at least in my mind.

As I am bringing a lengthy career to a close, I remain convinced that the church needs a new awareness of the prophetic message as an antidote to the virus of self-interest and greed that not only infects our society as a whole, but has seemed to take control of our ecclesial communities as well. When so-called evangelical Christians can embrace political policies that further oppress the most marginalized among us, and seem unfazed by the rhetoric of hate that stimulates such policies, it is past time for the prophetic word to speak.

There are elements of the biblical message that are ambiguous and subject to multiple understandings. The call of God addressed to those who are God’s people, however, is unambiguous when it comes to those on the margins. The “widows and orphans” and the “stranger” are the responsibility of the people of God. There is no mincing of words in any part of the Old Testament message. From the legal requirements of the Pentateuch to the full extent of the prophetic corpus, God stands with the poor, and demands that God’s people do the same. The harshest language used in the Old Testament is reserved for those who ignore that responsibility. Yet, as we look around in our modern world and consider the emphasis of far too many Christian communities, concerns are more often directed toward preserving homogeneity, comfort, and status, rather than engaging with the great needs in the communities where our churches are located.

There has never been a time in human history when this message was not needed. We are not the first generation to lose our focus and our way, but as we ponder why the church has lost its vitality and the majority of congregations are dwindling in numbers and lacking in relevance, we might consider these matters as we seek for a new way of being the church.

I selected the text from the prophet Amos as my text for the day. The message of Amos, however, is simply the most direct in its focus on injustice and the care of God for those who experience it. The words of Amos are never too distant when I give thought to the justice God demands:

Hear this word, you cows of Bashan, who are on Mount Samaria [or Capitol Hill], who oppress the poor, who crush the needy … Come to Bethel—and transgress; to Gilgal—and multiply your transgressions; bring your sacrifices every morning, your tithes every three days … for so you love to do, O people of Israel! You who turn justice into wormwood, and bring righteousness to the ground! … I know how many are your transgressions, and how great are your sins—you who afflict the righteous, who take a bribe, and push aside the needy in the gate.

I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them … Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. (Amos 4:1, 4; 5:7, 12, 21, 23–24)

Careful reflection on these words should make clear their relevance to our own context. Like Israel of old, we are adept at substituting religious ritual for the true duty of the people of God.

Of course, Jesus understood this full well. Jesus never uttered an original message throughout his ministry. Instead, he simply embodied the prophetic message, which seemed to encompass every aspect of his being. The words of Matthew 25, attributed to Jesus, sound a great deal like the words of Amos I noted earlier. Like Amos, Jesus never hesitated to challenge those who used religious ritual and expertise in its function as a substitute for “doing” faith.

One of the classic counterfeits of religious life is the ability to spend endless hours debating theology and the minutia on the margins, while ignoring the core of what biblical faith is supposed to be. Authentic response to the biblical message is not to develop a lengthy list of “what I believe,” but living life as if what I believe actually matters.

It may appear from my comments thus far that the second half of my title has been ignored. The backward look is a reminder that the Bible constantly challenges our foibles and missed opportunities. One of the reasons the prophetic message has impacted me is that it always balances the dramatic focus on what is wrong with how that wrong may be made right.

The negative language, the accusations, and the declarations of judgment are not presented simply to condemn. The entirety of the biblical message arose as a reminder of what can go wrong in the life of faith, but with the ultimate purpose of offering a new opportunity to embrace hope. The prophetic message also presents a powerful opportunity to live into the hopeful future intended by God for God’s people. Israel was reminded that the God who created everything can create a new beginning, a new Israel, out of the chaos of human failing.

That same word of hope is offered to the church. As we watch numbers decrease and churches close their doors, there is a remedy from an earlier day that still speaks. If we dare to turn our attention to the needs of our community, if we can take seriously the mission of caring for the people around us—all of the people around us—that new beginning can be a reality. Turn away from the rhetoric of hate and division. Refuse to accept the narrow image of who belongs to the kingdom of God. See persons—all persons—in the same way God sees them.

Embrace the vision of God’s kingdom exemplified by the prophet Isaiah. Isaiah’s vision populated the kingdom of God with Israel, with Egypt, and, surprisingly, with Assyria. In other words, there is no one who falls outside of God’s vision of God’s kingdom. We are all dependent on the grace of God, and that grace is freely offered not just to a select few but to all.

My prayer for you who are preparing to fulfill the calling God has placed upon your lives is that you will be able to help the church to reclaim this vision of a God of grace. The decline of the church is not inevitable. We can reaffirm our central purpose as the people of God. May God grant us the courage and the will to embrace such a future of hope. Amen and amen.