Living under the tree
Commentary
Object:
We're still several months from Christmas, but I have a Christmas scene on my mind going into this week's sermon. It's not that our selected texts are Christmas texts, or even Advent themes. For I'm not picturing the first Christmas; I'm picturing Christmas in my own home with my three children.
Here's the scene: when Christmas morning rolls around in our house, my kids know where to go. We have presents for the kids in two places each Christmas season: in individual stockings and under the family Christmas tree. Our stockings are hung in the living room, and our Christmas tree stands in that room, as well.
Well, of course, the kids know that's where to find the presents, and so that's where they hurry when Christmas morning dawns. They don't go wandering around the basement or the garage, wondering why Dad didn't get them anything this year. They go to where I put the presents.
I don't think I'm flattering myself to say that my children are not idiots. I wonder sometimes, however, if God's children are.
Our heavenly Father has made no secret of where he has placed his presents -- the many, generous blessings that he has in store for his people. Yet so often his children do not go there: we do not choose that place, that location, that life. Instead, we choose to look elsewhere for our happiness and fulfillment, and then we are stupidly bewildered by the fact that life's garage is an unsatisfying place to spend Christmas morning.
Our three lections this week all point us to the place where God has his blessings reading and waiting for us to receive them. We just need to go there.
Jeremiah 2:4-13
I am fascinated by the questions that God asks his people in the Bible. It is no small theme, for he begins asking questions of our first ancestors in the Garden of Eden, and he continues throughout the pages of scripture. Since he is omniscient, we recognize immediately that he is not asking questions from the position of a typical inquirer. He doesn't ask us because he needs to know the answer. Rather, he asks in the manner of a teacher: Asking questions because the pupil needs to know the answer.
In Jeremiah's day, the "pupil" is "the house of Jacob, and all the families of the house of Israel." They are the rebels who have so chronically abandoned God for generations that they stand now on the precipice of unthinkable judgment. In that moment, God asks them a question -- a question to which they need to know the answer: "What wrong did your ancestors find in me that they went far from me…?"
This is the question to every backsliding believer, every lapsed Christian, and every prodigal son. It puts on trial the decision to turn away from God, challenging the wandering one to come up with an answer. Is there a good answer to that question? The logic of the question is that one would only reasonably leave God if one found fault with him.
The tragic irony of those people's choice is that they abandoned God "and went after worthless things." It makes their choice all the more questionable, like the person who checks out of the comfort of his luxury hotel room in order to sleep on a bench across the street. Who does that? Who makes such a choice?
Of course, the truth is that, since the days of Adam and Eve, human beings have been continually making that very choice, and the Lord seeks an answer for our behavior.
Meanwhile, he also observes a certain cause-and-effect pattern, which is evident elsewhere, as well (Psalm 115:8; 135:18). He observes that the people "went after worthless things, and became worthless themselves." It is the spiritual version of the old nutritional adage: rather than "you are what you eat," scripture suggests that "you are what you worship."
Next, the Lord turns the people's attention back to their national testimony: The story of their deliverance from bondage, their wilderness years, and their conquest of the promised land. All these familiar blessings and cherished experiences were granted by the provident care of God. Yet "when you entered," he recalls, "you defiled my land, and made my heritage an abomination." It's a sad echo from Eden: the good place God had in store for his people, which they in turn defiled and lost.
Then the Lord's accusations climb higher. The priests and the prophets themselves have gone astray. Inasmuch as they were entrusted especially with the things of God, they are especially at fault. By virtue of their offices, their going astray is not an isolated tragedy: They lead others astray, as well. The catcher in the rye has been ushering the children off the cliff.
In the end, the Lord returns to the fundamental irrationality with which this lament began. The grotesqueness is not merely that the people have been sinful: It is that their sin is so foolish. "My people have changed their glory for something that does not profit," God groans. Surely he shakes his head in disbelief at their idiocy, and he calls on the larger creation to joined him in being "appalled" and "shocked."
Finally, there is this poetic summary of the people's "two evils." First, they have abandoned the one who is "the fountain of living water." Second, they have "dug out (cracked) cisterns for themselves ... that can hold no water." It is a poignant picture of the human condition -- a picture that may be worth a thousand words or more this Sunday morning (see below).
Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16
While the letter to the Hebrews is unique among the New Testament epistles in many respects, it features this familiar trait in its final chapter: a collection of quick-hit final instructions. In the middle of an epistle, any one of these thoughts might have been developed into a full paragraph or more. At the end of their letters, however, the apostles commonly offered a series of quick reminders, like a parent calling out final "drive carefully" instructions to the teen walking out the door.
Tallies of the instructions contained in this selected lection may differ. By my count, I find eight distinct instructions, which is more than can be easily explicated in a single sermon. Instead, therefore, I would seek a broader, thematic approach to these concise bits of counsel.
First, we observe certain recurring verbs: remember, let, and neglect.
We are instructed to remember three groups of people (those who are in prison, those who are being tortured, and our leaders). Remembering in scripture is always meant to be followed by some meaningful action (cf. Genesis 8:1, 30:22; Exodus 20:8; Deuteronomy 24:17-18). Remembering these people, therefore, should give birth to some action.
Also, the author exhorts his readers to "let mutual love continue," "let marriage be held in honor by all," "let the marriage bed be kept undefiled," and "let us continually offer a sacrifice of praise to God." These are not harsh imperatives, but gentle words of encouragement to all believers.
Finally, we are reminded not to neglect "to show hospitality to strangers" and "to do good and to share what you have." It is carefully worded counsel, for it does not presume selfishness and stinginess on our part. It does not assume that we will cling to what we have in miserly fashion, but only that we might neglect to be properly generous with what we have. Sin's risk is not merely that we will do something bad, but also that we might overlook doing something good.
Second, we also observe the recurrence of the word "for." Four times the author includes that conjunction to introduce specific rationales for our obedience. We are encouraged to show hospitality "for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it." The marriage bed is to be kept pure "for God will judge fornicators and adulterers." We may be content with what we have "for" God has promised always to be with us. Finally, our generosity is encouraged, "for such sacrifices are pleasing to God."
From perhaps the age of four on, we human beings become quite attached to the word "why." We want to know why. I don't think that any other member of the animal kingdom is so concerned with evaluating motivation and purpose, but it is a central concern of the human creature. Indeed, our sense for reason and purpose is part of our glory.
The frustrated teen is usually unappreciative of the answer he most commonly receives to his "why" -- namely, "because I said so." That is, of course, a valid reason and sense of purpose, and not only for the teen, but for every child of God. Still, the biblical author here offers more expansive rationales. And, taken together, those rationales form an interesting whole, including a reference to past experiences (v. 2), to future judgment (v. 4), and to promises for the present (vv. 5 and 16).
Luke 14:1, 7-14
As the gospel lection is read this week, our people may be surprised to hear the setting: Jesus eating in the home of a Pharisee. The entire reputation of the Pharisees for us today is a negative one. We dismiss them as hypocritical legalists and as malevolent opponents of Jesus. Of course, those characterizations are not entirely wrong. But they suggest such a level of antagonism between the Pharisees and Jesus that we are surprised either that one would invite him to dinner or that he would attend.
In keeping with their negative reputation, Luke reports that "they were watching him closely." Like political opponents in our country today, who lie in wait for one another's missteps, the Pharisees were eager to find any fault with Jesus they could -- even if the fault was dubious (Luke 6:6-11), contrived (Matthew 22:15), only a fault with his followers (Matthew 15:1-2), or entirely fabricated (Matthew 26:59).
As it happened, not only were the Pharisee's guests watching Jesus; he was watching them. Specifically, he observed how they clamored for the places of honor at the table.
The behavior is familiar to anyone with children still at home. See how they jockey for the preferred seat in the family room or the family car. See how they insist on going first in unwrapping presents or playing the game. See how they watch to see who was given the larger slice of cake or the more generous scoop of ice cream. As soon as something is identified as desirable, kids are unapologetic about claiming it for themselves.
Adults are not necessarily less selfish, of course. We do tend to be more clever and discreet about our selfishness, however. Still, it is in the warp and woof of the species to crave for oneself that which is best: the most comfortable, most desirable, most important.
In this instance, the greed is for honor. Human ego and self-importance manifests itself in countless ways, and here it appeared in the seating arrangements. That may seem to us like a petty concern, like the petulant star who insists on top billing on the marquee, or the well-paid athlete who is piqued by another player's more generous contract. In reality, of course, most of the battlefields where our self-importance is inclined to pick a fight are petty ones.
Jesus had discouraged such a wrong-headed mentality in his own disciples (Mark 9:33-37), and here he addresses the same sort of problem with his dining companions. In the present case, however, Jesus seems at first to be making an argument based on pragmatism rather than principle. In other words, perhaps in the spirit of Proverbs (e.g., 11:2; 16:18; 29:23), humility is not so much presented as a stand-alone virtue, but rather as a prudent strategy. For the person who humbles himself will more likely be exalted by his host, while the person who promotes himself is more vulnerable to some sort of public humiliation.
What begins as a worldly strategy, however, seems to take on an other-worldly tone when Jesus concludes, "All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted." Such a categorical statement sounds like a guarantee of apocalyptic judgment.
Finally, Jesus also includes a word of correction for hosts. The guests, who were jockeying for the positions of honor, were not the only ones guilty of a self-seeking approach. Hosts, too, should think and choose humbly, inviting "the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind." Rather than positioning oneself to "be repaid," the open invitation should be extended to those who "cannot repay you."
The emphasis is reminiscent of familiar teachings in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:40-42, 46-47). The endgame, again, is apocalyptic: that is, the choices made in the present are with a far-future reward in view. "For you will be repaid," Jesus assures them, "at the resurrection of the righteous."
Application
"I brought you into a plentiful land to eat its fruits and its good things," the Lord said to the people of Jeremiah's day. The bountiful provisions of the promised land were emblematic of the generous will of God for this people. That land full of good things was where he wanted his children to be. Yet "you defiled my land, and made my inheritance an abomination," which eventually led to the people's terrible eviction. Like Adam and Eve, the sinful choices of the people cost them the good place God had in mind for them. He had prepared a place of blessing, and staying in that place -- the living room on Christmas Day, if you will -- only required their obedience.
For us, the place of God's blessings is not necessarily a strip of land in the Middle East any longer. Rather, it is a life lived according to his will, which puts us in position to receive his blessings. The scriptures give us many insights into what such a life of obedience looks like. And in our New Testament passages, both Jesus and the writer of Hebrews include open-handed and undiscriminating hospitality in that obedience. "By doing that," the anonymous apostle recalls, "some have entertained angels without knowing it." Jesus assures, "You will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous."
The Father has so many gifts in store for those he loves. He has told us where they wait for us: in a life of humble obedience and generous love. If only we would go there!
Alternative Application
Jeremiah 2:4-13. "A Thirsty World." The old adage claims that a picture is worth a thousand words. That may be true even of a word picture, for the one offered at the end of our Jeremiah lection is so effective and concise that it will take us many words to do justice to the beauty and meaning of it.
The Lord declares: "My people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living water, and dug out cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that can hold no water."
As we noted above in our consideration of this passage from Jeremiah, the great tragedy of those people was not just their wickedness, but their foolishness. While Jesus says that the kingdom of heaven is like a person who sells all he has in order to buy a field with a great treasure buried in it (Matthew 13:44), these people seem to be selling all they have in order to buy a field with a dime buried in it. They are the heirs of Esau's infamous exchange (Genesis 25:29-34).
The great effectiveness of the picture with which this diagnosis of the people concludes is that it captures at least three profound truths.
First, the picture offers an affirmation about God: that he is "the fountain of living water." A "fountain" is a source, and it suggests a continuous supply. So far superior to the "cisterns" mentioned later, which are merely receptacles for water, the "fountain" is where the water originates. Meanwhile, the designation of this fountain as the source of not just ordinary water but "living waters" recalls a few other passages from scripture (e.g., Song of Solomon 4:15; Jeremiah 17:13; Zechariah 14:8; John 4:10-11, 7:38).
At a minimum, the underlying Hebrew of the Old Testament passages suggests flowing, rather than stagnant, waters. Also, in considering the image, we should not discount the fact that one body of water with which the Israelites were familiar was the Dead Sea. They knew, therefore, that not all water was teeming with life, and not all water brought life to its region. But here in Jeremiah, the water God offers is full of life.
Second, the picture recognizes a reality about human beings: namely, that they are thirsty. After all, if they neglected "the fountain" in order to go their own way, with no apparent need or desire for water, then their choice could be at some level justified. The fact that the people turn around and dig cisterns for themselves proves their need and desire for water. That, of course, makes their abandonment of "the fountain" inexplicably foolish.
This is, of course, the essential human foolishness. Eve did not show disinterest in the things of God in order to taste the forbidden fruit. Rather, she was attracted to beauty, nourishment, and wisdom (Genesis 3:6a), yet turned aside from their true source. The people of Isaiah's day or Paul's were not skeptics or atheists who denied the Deity altogether; they simply exchanged the true God for counterfeits (Isaiah 44:9-20; Romans 1:20-23). So, too, in our day: contemporary culture has not forsaken its thirst for knowledge, pleasure, beauty, joy, or life; it has simply abandoned their author.
Third, the picture shows the failed human reflex toward self-reliance. These folks walk away from the fountain, but not because they are not thirsty. It can only be because, at some level, they prefer to be independent of "the fountain." So they make cisterns for themselves. They endeavor to meet their own needs, apart from God, and their efforts are predictably futile. Like the aborted tower of Babel (Genesis 11:1-9) or the failed first attempt to attack the promised land (Numbers 14:39-45), human self-reliance is a recipe for defeat.
The Psalmist famously observed that "unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain" (Psalm 127:1). Perhaps it might also be said that, unless the Lord is the source, all human resources are vain.
Preaching the Psalm
Psalm 81:1, 10-16
There's an old pastor's line that goes like this. If we're not careful, God will give us exactly what we want. This psalm describes this circumstance as God finally gives the people of Israel over to their "stubborn hearts," so that they can "follow their own counsels." Like children who suddenly get their own way, we are lost when left to our own desires. The simple truth of it all is that we seldom choose what is good or right for us or for the people around us.
Just look around us. Left to our own devices, we quite quickly make a mess of things. From polluted oceans to urban blight, to crumbling educational systems and back again, our own projects seem doomed to fail. When we give our allegiance to governments and ideologies we forget to follow God's way. When we decide we want to do something, we forget that what we want is of little importance.
The agenda before us is not generated by our "stubborn hearts." The way forward is not given us by political ideology or partisan bickering. No. The way forward for us is the way of God and God's loving grace.
Imagine a world where people followed God's way of love and devotion. Imagine a nation where peoples' lives were characterized by self-giving love rather than getting for the self. How different our communities would look if we could listen to God's counsel rather than chase after our own crazy ideas.
As this psalm indicates, God is ready for us to turn to (him). Indeed, God stands there watching and bemoaning our foolishness. One can even imagine God rolling his eyes as we launch yet another ill-conceived venture.
What would it take for us to abandon our "stubborn hearts" and turn to God? Would it take a complete collapse of the economic system? Or has the last few years been close enough? Would it take the collapse of our eco-system? Or are the melting polar ice caps enough to give us pause? Would it take a nuclear war? Or is one bomb in the hands of a terror group enough to lean us back into the arms of God?
You see, God has given us what we wanted. God has given us to our stubborn hearts and allowed us to pursue our own counsels.
Maybe now would be a good time to think about our priorities. Maybe now would be a good time to turn back to the ways of God. What do you think?
Here's the scene: when Christmas morning rolls around in our house, my kids know where to go. We have presents for the kids in two places each Christmas season: in individual stockings and under the family Christmas tree. Our stockings are hung in the living room, and our Christmas tree stands in that room, as well.
Well, of course, the kids know that's where to find the presents, and so that's where they hurry when Christmas morning dawns. They don't go wandering around the basement or the garage, wondering why Dad didn't get them anything this year. They go to where I put the presents.
I don't think I'm flattering myself to say that my children are not idiots. I wonder sometimes, however, if God's children are.
Our heavenly Father has made no secret of where he has placed his presents -- the many, generous blessings that he has in store for his people. Yet so often his children do not go there: we do not choose that place, that location, that life. Instead, we choose to look elsewhere for our happiness and fulfillment, and then we are stupidly bewildered by the fact that life's garage is an unsatisfying place to spend Christmas morning.
Our three lections this week all point us to the place where God has his blessings reading and waiting for us to receive them. We just need to go there.
Jeremiah 2:4-13
I am fascinated by the questions that God asks his people in the Bible. It is no small theme, for he begins asking questions of our first ancestors in the Garden of Eden, and he continues throughout the pages of scripture. Since he is omniscient, we recognize immediately that he is not asking questions from the position of a typical inquirer. He doesn't ask us because he needs to know the answer. Rather, he asks in the manner of a teacher: Asking questions because the pupil needs to know the answer.
In Jeremiah's day, the "pupil" is "the house of Jacob, and all the families of the house of Israel." They are the rebels who have so chronically abandoned God for generations that they stand now on the precipice of unthinkable judgment. In that moment, God asks them a question -- a question to which they need to know the answer: "What wrong did your ancestors find in me that they went far from me…?"
This is the question to every backsliding believer, every lapsed Christian, and every prodigal son. It puts on trial the decision to turn away from God, challenging the wandering one to come up with an answer. Is there a good answer to that question? The logic of the question is that one would only reasonably leave God if one found fault with him.
The tragic irony of those people's choice is that they abandoned God "and went after worthless things." It makes their choice all the more questionable, like the person who checks out of the comfort of his luxury hotel room in order to sleep on a bench across the street. Who does that? Who makes such a choice?
Of course, the truth is that, since the days of Adam and Eve, human beings have been continually making that very choice, and the Lord seeks an answer for our behavior.
Meanwhile, he also observes a certain cause-and-effect pattern, which is evident elsewhere, as well (Psalm 115:8; 135:18). He observes that the people "went after worthless things, and became worthless themselves." It is the spiritual version of the old nutritional adage: rather than "you are what you eat," scripture suggests that "you are what you worship."
Next, the Lord turns the people's attention back to their national testimony: The story of their deliverance from bondage, their wilderness years, and their conquest of the promised land. All these familiar blessings and cherished experiences were granted by the provident care of God. Yet "when you entered," he recalls, "you defiled my land, and made my heritage an abomination." It's a sad echo from Eden: the good place God had in store for his people, which they in turn defiled and lost.
Then the Lord's accusations climb higher. The priests and the prophets themselves have gone astray. Inasmuch as they were entrusted especially with the things of God, they are especially at fault. By virtue of their offices, their going astray is not an isolated tragedy: They lead others astray, as well. The catcher in the rye has been ushering the children off the cliff.
In the end, the Lord returns to the fundamental irrationality with which this lament began. The grotesqueness is not merely that the people have been sinful: It is that their sin is so foolish. "My people have changed their glory for something that does not profit," God groans. Surely he shakes his head in disbelief at their idiocy, and he calls on the larger creation to joined him in being "appalled" and "shocked."
Finally, there is this poetic summary of the people's "two evils." First, they have abandoned the one who is "the fountain of living water." Second, they have "dug out (cracked) cisterns for themselves ... that can hold no water." It is a poignant picture of the human condition -- a picture that may be worth a thousand words or more this Sunday morning (see below).
Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16
While the letter to the Hebrews is unique among the New Testament epistles in many respects, it features this familiar trait in its final chapter: a collection of quick-hit final instructions. In the middle of an epistle, any one of these thoughts might have been developed into a full paragraph or more. At the end of their letters, however, the apostles commonly offered a series of quick reminders, like a parent calling out final "drive carefully" instructions to the teen walking out the door.
Tallies of the instructions contained in this selected lection may differ. By my count, I find eight distinct instructions, which is more than can be easily explicated in a single sermon. Instead, therefore, I would seek a broader, thematic approach to these concise bits of counsel.
First, we observe certain recurring verbs: remember, let, and neglect.
We are instructed to remember three groups of people (those who are in prison, those who are being tortured, and our leaders). Remembering in scripture is always meant to be followed by some meaningful action (cf. Genesis 8:1, 30:22; Exodus 20:8; Deuteronomy 24:17-18). Remembering these people, therefore, should give birth to some action.
Also, the author exhorts his readers to "let mutual love continue," "let marriage be held in honor by all," "let the marriage bed be kept undefiled," and "let us continually offer a sacrifice of praise to God." These are not harsh imperatives, but gentle words of encouragement to all believers.
Finally, we are reminded not to neglect "to show hospitality to strangers" and "to do good and to share what you have." It is carefully worded counsel, for it does not presume selfishness and stinginess on our part. It does not assume that we will cling to what we have in miserly fashion, but only that we might neglect to be properly generous with what we have. Sin's risk is not merely that we will do something bad, but also that we might overlook doing something good.
Second, we also observe the recurrence of the word "for." Four times the author includes that conjunction to introduce specific rationales for our obedience. We are encouraged to show hospitality "for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it." The marriage bed is to be kept pure "for God will judge fornicators and adulterers." We may be content with what we have "for" God has promised always to be with us. Finally, our generosity is encouraged, "for such sacrifices are pleasing to God."
From perhaps the age of four on, we human beings become quite attached to the word "why." We want to know why. I don't think that any other member of the animal kingdom is so concerned with evaluating motivation and purpose, but it is a central concern of the human creature. Indeed, our sense for reason and purpose is part of our glory.
The frustrated teen is usually unappreciative of the answer he most commonly receives to his "why" -- namely, "because I said so." That is, of course, a valid reason and sense of purpose, and not only for the teen, but for every child of God. Still, the biblical author here offers more expansive rationales. And, taken together, those rationales form an interesting whole, including a reference to past experiences (v. 2), to future judgment (v. 4), and to promises for the present (vv. 5 and 16).
Luke 14:1, 7-14
As the gospel lection is read this week, our people may be surprised to hear the setting: Jesus eating in the home of a Pharisee. The entire reputation of the Pharisees for us today is a negative one. We dismiss them as hypocritical legalists and as malevolent opponents of Jesus. Of course, those characterizations are not entirely wrong. But they suggest such a level of antagonism between the Pharisees and Jesus that we are surprised either that one would invite him to dinner or that he would attend.
In keeping with their negative reputation, Luke reports that "they were watching him closely." Like political opponents in our country today, who lie in wait for one another's missteps, the Pharisees were eager to find any fault with Jesus they could -- even if the fault was dubious (Luke 6:6-11), contrived (Matthew 22:15), only a fault with his followers (Matthew 15:1-2), or entirely fabricated (Matthew 26:59).
As it happened, not only were the Pharisee's guests watching Jesus; he was watching them. Specifically, he observed how they clamored for the places of honor at the table.
The behavior is familiar to anyone with children still at home. See how they jockey for the preferred seat in the family room or the family car. See how they insist on going first in unwrapping presents or playing the game. See how they watch to see who was given the larger slice of cake or the more generous scoop of ice cream. As soon as something is identified as desirable, kids are unapologetic about claiming it for themselves.
Adults are not necessarily less selfish, of course. We do tend to be more clever and discreet about our selfishness, however. Still, it is in the warp and woof of the species to crave for oneself that which is best: the most comfortable, most desirable, most important.
In this instance, the greed is for honor. Human ego and self-importance manifests itself in countless ways, and here it appeared in the seating arrangements. That may seem to us like a petty concern, like the petulant star who insists on top billing on the marquee, or the well-paid athlete who is piqued by another player's more generous contract. In reality, of course, most of the battlefields where our self-importance is inclined to pick a fight are petty ones.
Jesus had discouraged such a wrong-headed mentality in his own disciples (Mark 9:33-37), and here he addresses the same sort of problem with his dining companions. In the present case, however, Jesus seems at first to be making an argument based on pragmatism rather than principle. In other words, perhaps in the spirit of Proverbs (e.g., 11:2; 16:18; 29:23), humility is not so much presented as a stand-alone virtue, but rather as a prudent strategy. For the person who humbles himself will more likely be exalted by his host, while the person who promotes himself is more vulnerable to some sort of public humiliation.
What begins as a worldly strategy, however, seems to take on an other-worldly tone when Jesus concludes, "All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted." Such a categorical statement sounds like a guarantee of apocalyptic judgment.
Finally, Jesus also includes a word of correction for hosts. The guests, who were jockeying for the positions of honor, were not the only ones guilty of a self-seeking approach. Hosts, too, should think and choose humbly, inviting "the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind." Rather than positioning oneself to "be repaid," the open invitation should be extended to those who "cannot repay you."
The emphasis is reminiscent of familiar teachings in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:40-42, 46-47). The endgame, again, is apocalyptic: that is, the choices made in the present are with a far-future reward in view. "For you will be repaid," Jesus assures them, "at the resurrection of the righteous."
Application
"I brought you into a plentiful land to eat its fruits and its good things," the Lord said to the people of Jeremiah's day. The bountiful provisions of the promised land were emblematic of the generous will of God for this people. That land full of good things was where he wanted his children to be. Yet "you defiled my land, and made my inheritance an abomination," which eventually led to the people's terrible eviction. Like Adam and Eve, the sinful choices of the people cost them the good place God had in mind for them. He had prepared a place of blessing, and staying in that place -- the living room on Christmas Day, if you will -- only required their obedience.
For us, the place of God's blessings is not necessarily a strip of land in the Middle East any longer. Rather, it is a life lived according to his will, which puts us in position to receive his blessings. The scriptures give us many insights into what such a life of obedience looks like. And in our New Testament passages, both Jesus and the writer of Hebrews include open-handed and undiscriminating hospitality in that obedience. "By doing that," the anonymous apostle recalls, "some have entertained angels without knowing it." Jesus assures, "You will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous."
The Father has so many gifts in store for those he loves. He has told us where they wait for us: in a life of humble obedience and generous love. If only we would go there!
Alternative Application
Jeremiah 2:4-13. "A Thirsty World." The old adage claims that a picture is worth a thousand words. That may be true even of a word picture, for the one offered at the end of our Jeremiah lection is so effective and concise that it will take us many words to do justice to the beauty and meaning of it.
The Lord declares: "My people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living water, and dug out cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that can hold no water."
As we noted above in our consideration of this passage from Jeremiah, the great tragedy of those people was not just their wickedness, but their foolishness. While Jesus says that the kingdom of heaven is like a person who sells all he has in order to buy a field with a great treasure buried in it (Matthew 13:44), these people seem to be selling all they have in order to buy a field with a dime buried in it. They are the heirs of Esau's infamous exchange (Genesis 25:29-34).
The great effectiveness of the picture with which this diagnosis of the people concludes is that it captures at least three profound truths.
First, the picture offers an affirmation about God: that he is "the fountain of living water." A "fountain" is a source, and it suggests a continuous supply. So far superior to the "cisterns" mentioned later, which are merely receptacles for water, the "fountain" is where the water originates. Meanwhile, the designation of this fountain as the source of not just ordinary water but "living waters" recalls a few other passages from scripture (e.g., Song of Solomon 4:15; Jeremiah 17:13; Zechariah 14:8; John 4:10-11, 7:38).
At a minimum, the underlying Hebrew of the Old Testament passages suggests flowing, rather than stagnant, waters. Also, in considering the image, we should not discount the fact that one body of water with which the Israelites were familiar was the Dead Sea. They knew, therefore, that not all water was teeming with life, and not all water brought life to its region. But here in Jeremiah, the water God offers is full of life.
Second, the picture recognizes a reality about human beings: namely, that they are thirsty. After all, if they neglected "the fountain" in order to go their own way, with no apparent need or desire for water, then their choice could be at some level justified. The fact that the people turn around and dig cisterns for themselves proves their need and desire for water. That, of course, makes their abandonment of "the fountain" inexplicably foolish.
This is, of course, the essential human foolishness. Eve did not show disinterest in the things of God in order to taste the forbidden fruit. Rather, she was attracted to beauty, nourishment, and wisdom (Genesis 3:6a), yet turned aside from their true source. The people of Isaiah's day or Paul's were not skeptics or atheists who denied the Deity altogether; they simply exchanged the true God for counterfeits (Isaiah 44:9-20; Romans 1:20-23). So, too, in our day: contemporary culture has not forsaken its thirst for knowledge, pleasure, beauty, joy, or life; it has simply abandoned their author.
Third, the picture shows the failed human reflex toward self-reliance. These folks walk away from the fountain, but not because they are not thirsty. It can only be because, at some level, they prefer to be independent of "the fountain." So they make cisterns for themselves. They endeavor to meet their own needs, apart from God, and their efforts are predictably futile. Like the aborted tower of Babel (Genesis 11:1-9) or the failed first attempt to attack the promised land (Numbers 14:39-45), human self-reliance is a recipe for defeat.
The Psalmist famously observed that "unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain" (Psalm 127:1). Perhaps it might also be said that, unless the Lord is the source, all human resources are vain.
Preaching the Psalm
Psalm 81:1, 10-16
There's an old pastor's line that goes like this. If we're not careful, God will give us exactly what we want. This psalm describes this circumstance as God finally gives the people of Israel over to their "stubborn hearts," so that they can "follow their own counsels." Like children who suddenly get their own way, we are lost when left to our own desires. The simple truth of it all is that we seldom choose what is good or right for us or for the people around us.
Just look around us. Left to our own devices, we quite quickly make a mess of things. From polluted oceans to urban blight, to crumbling educational systems and back again, our own projects seem doomed to fail. When we give our allegiance to governments and ideologies we forget to follow God's way. When we decide we want to do something, we forget that what we want is of little importance.
The agenda before us is not generated by our "stubborn hearts." The way forward is not given us by political ideology or partisan bickering. No. The way forward for us is the way of God and God's loving grace.
Imagine a world where people followed God's way of love and devotion. Imagine a nation where peoples' lives were characterized by self-giving love rather than getting for the self. How different our communities would look if we could listen to God's counsel rather than chase after our own crazy ideas.
As this psalm indicates, God is ready for us to turn to (him). Indeed, God stands there watching and bemoaning our foolishness. One can even imagine God rolling his eyes as we launch yet another ill-conceived venture.
What would it take for us to abandon our "stubborn hearts" and turn to God? Would it take a complete collapse of the economic system? Or has the last few years been close enough? Would it take the collapse of our eco-system? Or are the melting polar ice caps enough to give us pause? Would it take a nuclear war? Or is one bomb in the hands of a terror group enough to lean us back into the arms of God?
You see, God has given us what we wanted. God has given us to our stubborn hearts and allowed us to pursue our own counsels.
Maybe now would be a good time to think about our priorities. Maybe now would be a good time to turn back to the ways of God. What do you think?