Becoming...
Commentary
C. Knight Aldrich, a medical doctor and the first chairperson of the Department of Psychiatry at the University of Chicago (1955-1964), was a keen analyst of the motivations for our behaviors. He worked with the social services agencies of Chicago for a time, particularly spending hours with teenagers who had been arrested for shoplifting or other theft. Aldrich interviewed them to find out how they had come to this. He also talked with the parents, attempting to discover how they had handled the problem from the first time they knew about it.
Over the years he kept records of his interviews, noting that they seemed to separate into two types. One group of teens became repeat offenders and showed up in the criminal justice system again and again. The other was a collection of those who were with him one time and then stayed straight.
Dr. Aldrich concluded that there were basically two different ways that parents responded to initial shoplifting incidents. Some confronted their children with words like this: “Now we know what you’re like! You’re a thief! We’re going to be watching you now, buddy! Don’t think you can get away with this again!”
The others usually said something like this: “Tom, that wasn’t like you at all! We’ll have to go back to the store and clear this thing up, but then it’s done with, okay? What you did was wrong. You know that it was wrong. But we’re sure you won’t do it again.”
Aldrich said that the parents who assumed the worst usually got the worst, and the parents who assumed the best most often got the best. Jeremiah and the writer of Hebrews, and certainly Jesus, might well be reading Aldrich’s notes as he pens this section of his treatise to friends who are struggling with mounting social pressures.
Much that pretends to be Christian religion seems to have a rather negative view of the human spirit. Although the Bible speaks prophetically in judgment against blatant sinfulness, there are also many passages in scripture that tell of God’s delight in his children. More than that, the Fruit of the Spirit, which the apostle Paul says becomes the way of life for someone who is loved by God, is itself “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control” (Galatians 5:22-23). As God looks with tender eyes at us, so we are encouraged to view others with grace.
Jeremiah 1:4-10
Jeremiah lived almost a century after Isaiah. By his time, Assyria had long ago destroyed Judah’s northern brother neighbor, Israel (722 B.C.). Judah was itself only a tiny community now, limping along with diminishing resources, and constantly tossed around by the bigger nations of its world.
But things were changing rapidly on the international scene. Assyria was being beaten down in 612 B.C. by its easternmost province, Babylon. After snapping the backbone of Assyrian forces at Carchemish and wrestling the capital city of Nineveh to the ground, Babylon immediately took over Palestine, the newer name for the old region of Canaan.
Judah was experiencing a rapid turnover of kings, many of whom were puppets of Babylon. For decades already, the country had been paying yearly tribute or security bribes to Babylon. Since 606 B.C., Judah had been forced to turn over some of its promising young men for propaganda retraining exile in the capital of the superpower, in anticipation that they would return to rule the nation as regents of Babylon.
For reasons like these, Egypt began to loom large in many minds as the only possible ally strong enough to withstand Babylon’s domination of the region. Even though Israel’s identity had been forged through a divine exit strategy from oppressive Egyptian mastery several centuries before, now a good number of voices were publicly suggesting that the remaining citizens of Jerusalem get out of town before a final Babylonian occupation and find refuge in the safer haven of Egypt.
Into these times and circumstances Jeremiah was born. From his earliest thoughts, he was aware of Yahweh’s special call on his life (1:4–10). This knowledge only made his prophetic ministry even gloomier, for it gave him no out in a game where the deck was stacked against him (chapters 12, 16). So, he brooded through his life, deeply introspective. He fulfilled his role as gadfly to most of the kings who reigned during his adult years, even though it took eminent courage to do so. Although he lived an exemplary personal lifestyle, government officials constantly took offense at his theologically charged political commentaries, and regularly arrested him, treating him very badly. Jeremiah was passionately moral, never allowing compromise as a suitable temporary alternative in the shady waters of international relations, or amid the roiling quicksand of fading religious devotion. He remained pastorally sensitive, especially to the poor and oppressed in Jerusalem, weeping in anguish as families boiled sandals and old leather to find a few nutrients during Babylonian sieges, and especially when he saw mothers willing to cannibalize their dying babies in order to keep their other children alive. Above all, Jeremiah found the grace to be unshakably hopeful. He truly believed, to the very close of his life, that though Babylonian forces would raze Jerusalem and the Temple, Yahweh would keep covenant promises, and one day restore the fortunes of this wayward partner in the divine missional enterprise.
Hebrews 12:18-29
“Remember, folks,” he said quietly. “The central offense of the gospel is Jesus, not you!”
The man speaking was a lifelong missionary, born to parents who were serving as gospel witnesses in China, and who himself had devoted his career to planting churches in Japan. His words were a reflection on Paul’s reflections about the scandal of the cross in 1 Corinthians 1, and Paul’s summary declaration of that in Galatians 5:11.
As a man who had moved into and out of several cultures, he was particularly sensitive to the manner in which Christians present both themselves and the gospel. He suggested that much which is presumed “holy” and “religious” is actually more an expression of cultural preconditioning and has little to do with the central elements of the biblical story of salvation. Moreover, he had often observed Christians who were truly obnoxious when they left North America to be missionaries elsewhere. Their offensiveness hid the true central offense of the gospel and prevented others from connecting meaningfully with Jesus. With kind wisdom, he cautioned us to walk carefully as we lived for Jesus in a multi-cultural world.
Something of the same warning begins this section of Hebrews. Through hints and reminders, the author of this treatise has revealed aspects of the community to whom it is being sent:
The writer, always thinking in scriptural models and anecdotes, gives an interesting point of reference to support his concerns. He mentions Esau, who did a rash thing on a whim, selling his favored inheritance status as firstborn to his twin brother for a simple bowl of lentil soup (Genesis 25:29-34), and regretted it the rest of his life. The implication is clear: quick actions taken without thought can lead to dire consequences. The readers of Hebrews should think and plan well, particularly with regard to their public behaviors, so that they might not come to unwanted social ill.
But there is also a deeper corollary to this. In spite of the negative press about him, Esau was basically an ordinary person, trying to live right and do things that matter. It is obvious, from later references to him, that Esau would command a great deal of respect in his community. The implication given by the writer of Hebrews, however, is that any good person can make a bad decision now and again, and that while many of these faulty choices hold little lingering consequence, there are some that are critical, and change our futures completely. Just as good man Esau lived well generally, but tossed a huge blessing away in a moment of famished fever, so these Christians, who have maintained a great record of faithfulness and witness, might lose the best that is offered by God if they deny Jesus on a dark day when hands are feeble and knees are limp and hearts are exhausted.
Another moment of inspiration follows, much briefer than the Bolero-like rousing of the Maranatha marathon just prior to these verses. This time an image of two mountains is staged. Each is presented as a metaphor built on top of a geographical place and historical incident. First come allusions to the initial Israelite encounter with God at Mount Sinai in Exodus 19. Recently released from Egyptian bondage, and miraculously sustained through warrior challenges and wilderness deprivations, the people were led by Moses to the spot where he first encountered Yahweh. While Israel’s old taskmaster, the Pharaoh of Egypt, was feared due to terrors of the lash and practices of genocide, her new “owner” also produced deep and anxious responses. These, however, were awe-inspiring earth-shakings that made the powers of Egypt seem trite. While heaven opened over the mountain, and earth trembled at the footfall of its Creator, the Israelites hid in panic. Who could stand before such a holy presence and live? Even Moses, who had boldly stood in dialogue with Yahweh at this very spot, not long before, confessed, “I tremble with fear!”
But there is a second mountain in view. This one is also conflated, past with future, existence with hope, imminence with transcendence. Just as Mount Zion, at the upper limit of ancient Jerusalem, buzzed with radiating glory when Solomon completed the grand temple of Yahweh, and all heaven splashed to earth, so, even now, the angels are dancing around the throne at the center of all reality in anticipation of divine glory flooding creation once again. Meeting God at Mount Sinai was good for ancient Israel, but terrifying. Meeting God soon, as the Creator brings resolution to all the turmoil on planet earth, is and will be exhilarating.
Again, there is an underlying nudge connected to this double vision. Mount Sinai stands, for the author, as a link with the entire Jewish religious ceremonial system. It was at Mount Sinai that the plans for the tabernacle were delivered. It was at Mount Sinai that the Aaronic priesthood was begun. It was at Mount Sinai that the calendar of daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly sacrifices was initiated. In other words, to act and be Israelite/Jewish, Mount Sinai forms the base of identity and operations.
But since Jesus came, according to the author, this Israelite/Jewish identity has been caught up in and subsumed by an even greater identity. Heaven (the dwelling of God and the location of God’s real throne, symbolically represented on earth by the Ark of the Covenant) supersedes earth’s temporary wanderings and expressions, including the old sacrificial system. The new Jerusalem, where Jesus now resides, after having cleansed the old Jerusalem with his bloody sacrifice, is pushing at the boundaries of time and space, and will erupt soon into our experience. And the angels, who for centuries have penetrated the gossamer veil shielding drab earth from heaven’s blinding glory to bring a revelation or a message only now and again, will suddenly be citizens and fellow worshipers in the grand reunification of all reality, both material and spiritual.
So, we should not linger with the past, and its sacrifices. Instead, we should lean into the future, with its hopes and promises and glory.
Yet here is another veiled challenge. The way that Jesus went from the expressions of Mount Sinai to the living reality of the new Mount Jerusalem was by shedding his blood. He is “the mediator of the new covenant.” There was blood in the old covenant. After all, from the beginning (Abel’s blood), this journey of humanity has been one of death. But Jesus lives, even though he died. This is why his blood “speaks a better word” than that mouthed by Abel’s flowing crimson stain. Still, to participate in Jesus’ everlasting life, the transition involves death. Therefore, these readers are being steeled to the greater persecution still in front of them. They can choose Mount Sinai, with its animal blood and sacrifices, and live for a while longer in this restless heartbreak of a world. Or they can choose Mount Jerusalem, with its once-for-all Jesus’ blood and sacrifice, and through their own martyr deaths enter into Jesus’ ongoing life.
The choice remains: temporary life connected with denying Jesus and slipping back into the Jewish sacrificial system, or eternal life received through the way of persecution leading to both sure and imminent death, with full access into eternal glory. This is the painfully promising message of Hebrews. Live now, by sneaking back into old covenant forms, but lose your eternal hope. Or die now, by standing with Jesus and reaching into a future promise that only those with faith can see.
A warning follows. Again, the writer of Hebrews is a genius at knowing and using scripture. Tying together the shaking of Mount Sinai with a rather obscure reference to shaking found in the very tiny prophecy of Haggai, the author grabs both past and future in a continuing vision of holy God.
Haggai and Zechariah appeared on the scene at exactly the same time, in the summer of 520 B.C. This was an auspicious season for the few folks who had struggled to find themselves after returning to Jerusalem from Babylonian exile over a decade before. The first thing they had done when viewing the rubble of the city was to set up the altar of burnt offering among the toppled stones of the old temple square. Their band was small, and neighbors living in the region resented their invasion. Instead of building the temple and city as planned and promised by their Persian overlords, the social tensions resulted instead in a stop-work edict that lasted for ten years. Finally, in the summer of 520 B.C., King Darius (instigator of the doomed 490 B.C. invasion of Greece, which would be stopped decisively at Marathon!) issued a stunning declaration:
“Now you, Tattenai, governor of the province Beyond the River, Shethar-bozenai, and you, their associates, the envoys in the province beyond the river, keep away; let the work on this house of God alone; let the governor of the Jews and the elders of the Jews rebuild this house of God on its site. Moreover, I make a decree regarding what you shall do for these elders of the Jews for the rebuilding of this house of God: the cost is to be paid to these people, in full and without delay, from the royal revenue, the tribute of the province beyond the river. Whatever is needed—young bulls, rams, or sheep for burnt offerings to the God of heaven, wheat, salt, wine, or oil, as the priests in Jerusalem require—let that be given to them day by day without fail, so that they may offer pleasing sacrifices to the God of heaven, and pray for the life of the king and his children. Furthermore, I decree that if anyone alters this edict, a beam shall be pulled out of the house of the perpetrator, who then shall be impaled on it. The house shall be made a dunghill. May the God who has established his name there overthrow any king or people that shall put forth a hand to alter this, or to destroy this house of God in Jerusalem. I, Darius, make a decree; let it be done with all diligence.”
This was a stop-in-your-tracks shaking of heaven and earth! This was a turnaround of epic proportions! This was a massive reversal of fortunes! And it is precisely at the moment when the Persian courier delivered the message to the depressed and seemingly forgotten band of Jews in their ruined and make-shift huts on the windswept heights of Jerusalem that God energized Haggai with an ecstatic proclamation.
Haggai was a cheerleader. He had returned from Babylon to Palestine with the first wave of freed exiles under the leadership of Zerubbabel in 536 B.C. Although it took a while for the community to get its bearings, now, suddenly, there was a push to sift among the stones still left at the site of Solomon’s temple and rebuild a house for Yahweh there. When King Darius’ announcement was read, Haggai piggy-backed onto it, urging the workers with divine encouragement. No obstacle could stand in the way of this central task, neither disobedient lifestyles (1:2–11), fainthearted leadership (1:12–14), poverty (2:1–9), ritual defilement (2:10–19), or the rattling sabers of bellicose nations (2:20–23). Under Haggai’s promptings and Zerubbabel’s governing, the temple was rebuilt in the next four years. By 516 B.C. it stood again, only a mean miniature compared to the glorious structure created generations before by Solomon, in his seven-year building project. Nevertheless, with Haggai’s oratorical help, Yahweh’s house was reborn.
At the heart of God’s message through Haggai was this powerful testimony:
My spirit abides among you; do not fear. For thus says the Lord of hosts: Once again, in a little while, I will shake the heavens and the earth and the sea and the dry land; and I will shake all the nations, so that the treasure of all nations shall come…
The writer of Hebrews understands the times in which he was living, the times of Jesus’ coming to earth and recent, temporary, return to heaven, as these quaking times. Signs, wonders and miracles were taking place. Nations were in uproar. And all earthly structures were in danger of collapsing.
But heaven itself was unshakeable. And, as the Hebrews treatise has carefully diagrammed to this point, whatever is connected to the heavenly temple and the true throne of God and the mediator of the new covenant will last. So, the shaking continues, and these Christians as reeling under it. But if they cling to Jesus, and do not deny him, they are attached to permanent promises and rewards.
Just as the smoke and fire atop Mount Sinai caused the mountain and its surroundings to tremble, so the blazing glory of God is already sending shock waves through earth. Rather than running away in fear, however, those who know the truth should run with Jesus toward the consuming fire. In his shielding, there is safety and steadiness.
Luke 13:10-17
During World War II, the English government knew that Hitler was planning to invade the British Isles. They encouraged the people to prepare as best they could. They bolstered defenses on the southeast corner. They stationed reserve guards on constant watch. They developed early warning systems and evacuation routes for the people near the coast.
Then they did one more thing. The government passed a law requiring every community to take down all road signs and every other sign that named any town or village. They knew the Germans had maps of England, but if the invaders couldn’t locate themselves on those maps, they would be slowed in their progress toward London. Without points of reference, the troops would wander aimlessly.
That is also the way of our lives, often, as Jesus says to those around him in today’s gospel reading. If we have no plans or hopes or goals, we find ourselves wandering on any road that beckons. Too often, these lead us to the wrong place, and we begin to major in minors, missing the meaning of our lives and that of others.
Application
Alan Loy McGinnis wrote about attending a business conference where awards were being given for outstanding achievements during the past fiscal year. A woman was called to the podium to receive the company’s top honor. Clutching her trophy, she beamed out at the crowd of over 3,000 people. Yet in that moment of triumph, she had eyes for only one person. She looked directly at her supervisor, a woman named Joan.
The award-winner told of the difficult times that she had gone through only a few years earlier. She had experienced personal problems, and, for a time her work had suffered. Some people turned away from her, counting it a liability to be seen with her. Others wrote her off as a loser in the company.
The worst part was that she felt they were right. She had stopped at Joan’s desk several times with a letter of resignation in her hand. She knew she was a failure.
But Joan said, “Let’s just wait a little bit longer.” And Joan said, “Give it one more try.” And Joan said, “I never would have hired you if I didn’t think you could handle it!”
The woman’s voice broke. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she softly said, “Joan believed in me more than I believed in myself!”
Isn’t that the message of the Gospel? Isn’t that the story of the Bible? That God believed in us while we were still sinners, while we were still failures, while we were at the point in our lives that we couldn’t seem to make it on our own?
Alternative Application (Jeremiah 1:4-10)
A woman once came running up to Arthur Rubinstein after he finished another spectacular concert. “Oh, Mr. Rubinstein!” she said, “I’ve always wanted to play the piano! I’d give anything if I could play like you did this evening!”
“No, you wouldn’t,” he replied. “I know what I’ve had to give up to be able to play like this, and if that’s what you really wanted, you would have done the same.”
How true! The great pianist knew his goal. He knew where he wanted to be in life, and then he kept making the necessary choices. He practiced his scales. He put in his hours at the keyboard. He did what he had to do.
Generations ago, young William Borden went to Yale University. He was the wealthy son of a powerful family. He could choose to do anything with his life. After he graduated, he chose to become a missionary of the gospel of Jesus Christ. His friends thought he was crazy. “Why throw away your life like that!” they asked.
But Borden knew his future. He determined his destiny. He made his choices, and his goals laid hold of him. He set out on a long journey to China, a trip that would take many months. By the time he got to Egypt some disease ravaged his body. He was placed in a hospital. Soon it became obvious that he would never recover. William Borden would die a foreigner in Egypt. He never reached his goal, and he never went back home.
He could have thought, “What a waste. I should have listened to my family. I should have stayed in America. Why did God do this to me!”
Those, however, were not his dying thoughts. His last conscious act was to write a little note. Seven words that were spoken at his funeral. Seven words that summarized his life, his goals, his choices, and his identity: “No reserve, no retreat, and no regrets!”
Can you say that? “No reserve, no retreat, and no regrets!”
Does that describe who you are? Can you see your future? Have you determined your destiny? Then continue your journey protected by this old Irish blessing:
May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm on your face,
and the rain fall softly on your fields;
And until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of his hand!
Over the years he kept records of his interviews, noting that they seemed to separate into two types. One group of teens became repeat offenders and showed up in the criminal justice system again and again. The other was a collection of those who were with him one time and then stayed straight.
Dr. Aldrich concluded that there were basically two different ways that parents responded to initial shoplifting incidents. Some confronted their children with words like this: “Now we know what you’re like! You’re a thief! We’re going to be watching you now, buddy! Don’t think you can get away with this again!”
The others usually said something like this: “Tom, that wasn’t like you at all! We’ll have to go back to the store and clear this thing up, but then it’s done with, okay? What you did was wrong. You know that it was wrong. But we’re sure you won’t do it again.”
Aldrich said that the parents who assumed the worst usually got the worst, and the parents who assumed the best most often got the best. Jeremiah and the writer of Hebrews, and certainly Jesus, might well be reading Aldrich’s notes as he pens this section of his treatise to friends who are struggling with mounting social pressures.
Much that pretends to be Christian religion seems to have a rather negative view of the human spirit. Although the Bible speaks prophetically in judgment against blatant sinfulness, there are also many passages in scripture that tell of God’s delight in his children. More than that, the Fruit of the Spirit, which the apostle Paul says becomes the way of life for someone who is loved by God, is itself “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control” (Galatians 5:22-23). As God looks with tender eyes at us, so we are encouraged to view others with grace.
Jeremiah 1:4-10
Jeremiah lived almost a century after Isaiah. By his time, Assyria had long ago destroyed Judah’s northern brother neighbor, Israel (722 B.C.). Judah was itself only a tiny community now, limping along with diminishing resources, and constantly tossed around by the bigger nations of its world.
But things were changing rapidly on the international scene. Assyria was being beaten down in 612 B.C. by its easternmost province, Babylon. After snapping the backbone of Assyrian forces at Carchemish and wrestling the capital city of Nineveh to the ground, Babylon immediately took over Palestine, the newer name for the old region of Canaan.
Judah was experiencing a rapid turnover of kings, many of whom were puppets of Babylon. For decades already, the country had been paying yearly tribute or security bribes to Babylon. Since 606 B.C., Judah had been forced to turn over some of its promising young men for propaganda retraining exile in the capital of the superpower, in anticipation that they would return to rule the nation as regents of Babylon.
For reasons like these, Egypt began to loom large in many minds as the only possible ally strong enough to withstand Babylon’s domination of the region. Even though Israel’s identity had been forged through a divine exit strategy from oppressive Egyptian mastery several centuries before, now a good number of voices were publicly suggesting that the remaining citizens of Jerusalem get out of town before a final Babylonian occupation and find refuge in the safer haven of Egypt.
Into these times and circumstances Jeremiah was born. From his earliest thoughts, he was aware of Yahweh’s special call on his life (1:4–10). This knowledge only made his prophetic ministry even gloomier, for it gave him no out in a game where the deck was stacked against him (chapters 12, 16). So, he brooded through his life, deeply introspective. He fulfilled his role as gadfly to most of the kings who reigned during his adult years, even though it took eminent courage to do so. Although he lived an exemplary personal lifestyle, government officials constantly took offense at his theologically charged political commentaries, and regularly arrested him, treating him very badly. Jeremiah was passionately moral, never allowing compromise as a suitable temporary alternative in the shady waters of international relations, or amid the roiling quicksand of fading religious devotion. He remained pastorally sensitive, especially to the poor and oppressed in Jerusalem, weeping in anguish as families boiled sandals and old leather to find a few nutrients during Babylonian sieges, and especially when he saw mothers willing to cannibalize their dying babies in order to keep their other children alive. Above all, Jeremiah found the grace to be unshakably hopeful. He truly believed, to the very close of his life, that though Babylonian forces would raze Jerusalem and the Temple, Yahweh would keep covenant promises, and one day restore the fortunes of this wayward partner in the divine missional enterprise.
Hebrews 12:18-29
“Remember, folks,” he said quietly. “The central offense of the gospel is Jesus, not you!”
The man speaking was a lifelong missionary, born to parents who were serving as gospel witnesses in China, and who himself had devoted his career to planting churches in Japan. His words were a reflection on Paul’s reflections about the scandal of the cross in 1 Corinthians 1, and Paul’s summary declaration of that in Galatians 5:11.
As a man who had moved into and out of several cultures, he was particularly sensitive to the manner in which Christians present both themselves and the gospel. He suggested that much which is presumed “holy” and “religious” is actually more an expression of cultural preconditioning and has little to do with the central elements of the biblical story of salvation. Moreover, he had often observed Christians who were truly obnoxious when they left North America to be missionaries elsewhere. Their offensiveness hid the true central offense of the gospel and prevented others from connecting meaningfully with Jesus. With kind wisdom, he cautioned us to walk carefully as we lived for Jesus in a multi-cultural world.
Something of the same warning begins this section of Hebrews. Through hints and reminders, the author of this treatise has revealed aspects of the community to whom it is being sent:
- They are second-generation Christians who learned of the gospel through others.
- They are deeply invested into Jewish rituals and practices, having grown in faith and its expressions through these over most of their lives.
- They know the Jewish scriptures very, very well, and likely have memorized much of the Pentateuch.
- At the same time, they are Greek-speakers and use the Septuagint (Greek translation) of the scriptures in their worship and devotional practices.
- These people were likely non-Jewish in ethnic origins, but, having become disillusioned with the moral laxity and ethical waywardness of Roman society in the transition from the republic to the empire, they had found among orthodox Jews a home of righteous rigor.
- Within the last decade or so, these people had been persecuted for their faith, with some of them losing their properties, some being thrown into jails, and some of their leaders having been killed.
- After some years of peace, a new persecution was beginning, and it was challenging the community deeply.
- A new twist, however, is that the Roman authorities, who are initiating this pogrom, are now distinguishing between Jews and Christians, providing safety and social affirmations for the former, while targeting the latter with increased violence and ostracism.
The writer, always thinking in scriptural models and anecdotes, gives an interesting point of reference to support his concerns. He mentions Esau, who did a rash thing on a whim, selling his favored inheritance status as firstborn to his twin brother for a simple bowl of lentil soup (Genesis 25:29-34), and regretted it the rest of his life. The implication is clear: quick actions taken without thought can lead to dire consequences. The readers of Hebrews should think and plan well, particularly with regard to their public behaviors, so that they might not come to unwanted social ill.
But there is also a deeper corollary to this. In spite of the negative press about him, Esau was basically an ordinary person, trying to live right and do things that matter. It is obvious, from later references to him, that Esau would command a great deal of respect in his community. The implication given by the writer of Hebrews, however, is that any good person can make a bad decision now and again, and that while many of these faulty choices hold little lingering consequence, there are some that are critical, and change our futures completely. Just as good man Esau lived well generally, but tossed a huge blessing away in a moment of famished fever, so these Christians, who have maintained a great record of faithfulness and witness, might lose the best that is offered by God if they deny Jesus on a dark day when hands are feeble and knees are limp and hearts are exhausted.
Another moment of inspiration follows, much briefer than the Bolero-like rousing of the Maranatha marathon just prior to these verses. This time an image of two mountains is staged. Each is presented as a metaphor built on top of a geographical place and historical incident. First come allusions to the initial Israelite encounter with God at Mount Sinai in Exodus 19. Recently released from Egyptian bondage, and miraculously sustained through warrior challenges and wilderness deprivations, the people were led by Moses to the spot where he first encountered Yahweh. While Israel’s old taskmaster, the Pharaoh of Egypt, was feared due to terrors of the lash and practices of genocide, her new “owner” also produced deep and anxious responses. These, however, were awe-inspiring earth-shakings that made the powers of Egypt seem trite. While heaven opened over the mountain, and earth trembled at the footfall of its Creator, the Israelites hid in panic. Who could stand before such a holy presence and live? Even Moses, who had boldly stood in dialogue with Yahweh at this very spot, not long before, confessed, “I tremble with fear!”
But there is a second mountain in view. This one is also conflated, past with future, existence with hope, imminence with transcendence. Just as Mount Zion, at the upper limit of ancient Jerusalem, buzzed with radiating glory when Solomon completed the grand temple of Yahweh, and all heaven splashed to earth, so, even now, the angels are dancing around the throne at the center of all reality in anticipation of divine glory flooding creation once again. Meeting God at Mount Sinai was good for ancient Israel, but terrifying. Meeting God soon, as the Creator brings resolution to all the turmoil on planet earth, is and will be exhilarating.
Again, there is an underlying nudge connected to this double vision. Mount Sinai stands, for the author, as a link with the entire Jewish religious ceremonial system. It was at Mount Sinai that the plans for the tabernacle were delivered. It was at Mount Sinai that the Aaronic priesthood was begun. It was at Mount Sinai that the calendar of daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly sacrifices was initiated. In other words, to act and be Israelite/Jewish, Mount Sinai forms the base of identity and operations.
But since Jesus came, according to the author, this Israelite/Jewish identity has been caught up in and subsumed by an even greater identity. Heaven (the dwelling of God and the location of God’s real throne, symbolically represented on earth by the Ark of the Covenant) supersedes earth’s temporary wanderings and expressions, including the old sacrificial system. The new Jerusalem, where Jesus now resides, after having cleansed the old Jerusalem with his bloody sacrifice, is pushing at the boundaries of time and space, and will erupt soon into our experience. And the angels, who for centuries have penetrated the gossamer veil shielding drab earth from heaven’s blinding glory to bring a revelation or a message only now and again, will suddenly be citizens and fellow worshipers in the grand reunification of all reality, both material and spiritual.
So, we should not linger with the past, and its sacrifices. Instead, we should lean into the future, with its hopes and promises and glory.
Yet here is another veiled challenge. The way that Jesus went from the expressions of Mount Sinai to the living reality of the new Mount Jerusalem was by shedding his blood. He is “the mediator of the new covenant.” There was blood in the old covenant. After all, from the beginning (Abel’s blood), this journey of humanity has been one of death. But Jesus lives, even though he died. This is why his blood “speaks a better word” than that mouthed by Abel’s flowing crimson stain. Still, to participate in Jesus’ everlasting life, the transition involves death. Therefore, these readers are being steeled to the greater persecution still in front of them. They can choose Mount Sinai, with its animal blood and sacrifices, and live for a while longer in this restless heartbreak of a world. Or they can choose Mount Jerusalem, with its once-for-all Jesus’ blood and sacrifice, and through their own martyr deaths enter into Jesus’ ongoing life.
The choice remains: temporary life connected with denying Jesus and slipping back into the Jewish sacrificial system, or eternal life received through the way of persecution leading to both sure and imminent death, with full access into eternal glory. This is the painfully promising message of Hebrews. Live now, by sneaking back into old covenant forms, but lose your eternal hope. Or die now, by standing with Jesus and reaching into a future promise that only those with faith can see.
A warning follows. Again, the writer of Hebrews is a genius at knowing and using scripture. Tying together the shaking of Mount Sinai with a rather obscure reference to shaking found in the very tiny prophecy of Haggai, the author grabs both past and future in a continuing vision of holy God.
Haggai and Zechariah appeared on the scene at exactly the same time, in the summer of 520 B.C. This was an auspicious season for the few folks who had struggled to find themselves after returning to Jerusalem from Babylonian exile over a decade before. The first thing they had done when viewing the rubble of the city was to set up the altar of burnt offering among the toppled stones of the old temple square. Their band was small, and neighbors living in the region resented their invasion. Instead of building the temple and city as planned and promised by their Persian overlords, the social tensions resulted instead in a stop-work edict that lasted for ten years. Finally, in the summer of 520 B.C., King Darius (instigator of the doomed 490 B.C. invasion of Greece, which would be stopped decisively at Marathon!) issued a stunning declaration:
“Now you, Tattenai, governor of the province Beyond the River, Shethar-bozenai, and you, their associates, the envoys in the province beyond the river, keep away; let the work on this house of God alone; let the governor of the Jews and the elders of the Jews rebuild this house of God on its site. Moreover, I make a decree regarding what you shall do for these elders of the Jews for the rebuilding of this house of God: the cost is to be paid to these people, in full and without delay, from the royal revenue, the tribute of the province beyond the river. Whatever is needed—young bulls, rams, or sheep for burnt offerings to the God of heaven, wheat, salt, wine, or oil, as the priests in Jerusalem require—let that be given to them day by day without fail, so that they may offer pleasing sacrifices to the God of heaven, and pray for the life of the king and his children. Furthermore, I decree that if anyone alters this edict, a beam shall be pulled out of the house of the perpetrator, who then shall be impaled on it. The house shall be made a dunghill. May the God who has established his name there overthrow any king or people that shall put forth a hand to alter this, or to destroy this house of God in Jerusalem. I, Darius, make a decree; let it be done with all diligence.”
This was a stop-in-your-tracks shaking of heaven and earth! This was a turnaround of epic proportions! This was a massive reversal of fortunes! And it is precisely at the moment when the Persian courier delivered the message to the depressed and seemingly forgotten band of Jews in their ruined and make-shift huts on the windswept heights of Jerusalem that God energized Haggai with an ecstatic proclamation.
Haggai was a cheerleader. He had returned from Babylon to Palestine with the first wave of freed exiles under the leadership of Zerubbabel in 536 B.C. Although it took a while for the community to get its bearings, now, suddenly, there was a push to sift among the stones still left at the site of Solomon’s temple and rebuild a house for Yahweh there. When King Darius’ announcement was read, Haggai piggy-backed onto it, urging the workers with divine encouragement. No obstacle could stand in the way of this central task, neither disobedient lifestyles (1:2–11), fainthearted leadership (1:12–14), poverty (2:1–9), ritual defilement (2:10–19), or the rattling sabers of bellicose nations (2:20–23). Under Haggai’s promptings and Zerubbabel’s governing, the temple was rebuilt in the next four years. By 516 B.C. it stood again, only a mean miniature compared to the glorious structure created generations before by Solomon, in his seven-year building project. Nevertheless, with Haggai’s oratorical help, Yahweh’s house was reborn.
At the heart of God’s message through Haggai was this powerful testimony:
My spirit abides among you; do not fear. For thus says the Lord of hosts: Once again, in a little while, I will shake the heavens and the earth and the sea and the dry land; and I will shake all the nations, so that the treasure of all nations shall come…
The writer of Hebrews understands the times in which he was living, the times of Jesus’ coming to earth and recent, temporary, return to heaven, as these quaking times. Signs, wonders and miracles were taking place. Nations were in uproar. And all earthly structures were in danger of collapsing.
But heaven itself was unshakeable. And, as the Hebrews treatise has carefully diagrammed to this point, whatever is connected to the heavenly temple and the true throne of God and the mediator of the new covenant will last. So, the shaking continues, and these Christians as reeling under it. But if they cling to Jesus, and do not deny him, they are attached to permanent promises and rewards.
Just as the smoke and fire atop Mount Sinai caused the mountain and its surroundings to tremble, so the blazing glory of God is already sending shock waves through earth. Rather than running away in fear, however, those who know the truth should run with Jesus toward the consuming fire. In his shielding, there is safety and steadiness.
Luke 13:10-17
During World War II, the English government knew that Hitler was planning to invade the British Isles. They encouraged the people to prepare as best they could. They bolstered defenses on the southeast corner. They stationed reserve guards on constant watch. They developed early warning systems and evacuation routes for the people near the coast.
Then they did one more thing. The government passed a law requiring every community to take down all road signs and every other sign that named any town or village. They knew the Germans had maps of England, but if the invaders couldn’t locate themselves on those maps, they would be slowed in their progress toward London. Without points of reference, the troops would wander aimlessly.
That is also the way of our lives, often, as Jesus says to those around him in today’s gospel reading. If we have no plans or hopes or goals, we find ourselves wandering on any road that beckons. Too often, these lead us to the wrong place, and we begin to major in minors, missing the meaning of our lives and that of others.
Application
Alan Loy McGinnis wrote about attending a business conference where awards were being given for outstanding achievements during the past fiscal year. A woman was called to the podium to receive the company’s top honor. Clutching her trophy, she beamed out at the crowd of over 3,000 people. Yet in that moment of triumph, she had eyes for only one person. She looked directly at her supervisor, a woman named Joan.
The award-winner told of the difficult times that she had gone through only a few years earlier. She had experienced personal problems, and, for a time her work had suffered. Some people turned away from her, counting it a liability to be seen with her. Others wrote her off as a loser in the company.
The worst part was that she felt they were right. She had stopped at Joan’s desk several times with a letter of resignation in her hand. She knew she was a failure.
But Joan said, “Let’s just wait a little bit longer.” And Joan said, “Give it one more try.” And Joan said, “I never would have hired you if I didn’t think you could handle it!”
The woman’s voice broke. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she softly said, “Joan believed in me more than I believed in myself!”
Isn’t that the message of the Gospel? Isn’t that the story of the Bible? That God believed in us while we were still sinners, while we were still failures, while we were at the point in our lives that we couldn’t seem to make it on our own?
Alternative Application (Jeremiah 1:4-10)
A woman once came running up to Arthur Rubinstein after he finished another spectacular concert. “Oh, Mr. Rubinstein!” she said, “I’ve always wanted to play the piano! I’d give anything if I could play like you did this evening!”
“No, you wouldn’t,” he replied. “I know what I’ve had to give up to be able to play like this, and if that’s what you really wanted, you would have done the same.”
How true! The great pianist knew his goal. He knew where he wanted to be in life, and then he kept making the necessary choices. He practiced his scales. He put in his hours at the keyboard. He did what he had to do.
Generations ago, young William Borden went to Yale University. He was the wealthy son of a powerful family. He could choose to do anything with his life. After he graduated, he chose to become a missionary of the gospel of Jesus Christ. His friends thought he was crazy. “Why throw away your life like that!” they asked.
But Borden knew his future. He determined his destiny. He made his choices, and his goals laid hold of him. He set out on a long journey to China, a trip that would take many months. By the time he got to Egypt some disease ravaged his body. He was placed in a hospital. Soon it became obvious that he would never recover. William Borden would die a foreigner in Egypt. He never reached his goal, and he never went back home.
He could have thought, “What a waste. I should have listened to my family. I should have stayed in America. Why did God do this to me!”
Those, however, were not his dying thoughts. His last conscious act was to write a little note. Seven words that were spoken at his funeral. Seven words that summarized his life, his goals, his choices, and his identity: “No reserve, no retreat, and no regrets!”
Can you say that? “No reserve, no retreat, and no regrets!”
Does that describe who you are? Can you see your future? Have you determined your destiny? Then continue your journey protected by this old Irish blessing:
May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm on your face,
and the rain fall softly on your fields;
And until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of his hand!
