When the nation of Israel came out of Egypt and met God at Mount Sinai, there was a political transaction taking place. Israel had belonged to the pharaoh of Egypt. Now she belonged to God. God had fought the pharaoh for the right to own and care for Israel, and he had won. Just as prior to the Exodus the pharaoh had specified the contours of his relationship with Israel, so now God did the same. At the top of Mount Sinai, God and Moses hammered out the political, social, and religious covenant that would determine the character of Israel’s future existence.
One element of that political landscape included the inescapable clause: “I am the Lord your God who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of bondage” (Exodus 20:1). This was the declaration of sovereign authority. There would be no ruler in Israel except the God of the covenant.
Yet even this God would need intermediaries. God would require human spokespersons to translate his glory into Hebrew speech. The greatest of all the spokespersons, of course, was Moses. Moses stood above the common Israeli crowd, an almost superhuman hero, a leader without peers.
Moses stood at the helm of Israel’s wandering ship for forty years, bringing her to the lights of Canaan’s harbor. On the border of the Promised Land, however, Moses told the people that he would not be going in with them; this was where their paths parted. The news sent ripples of fear throughout the community -- Moses was the only leader they had ever known, the only prophet who spoke directly to God for them, and to them for God! How could he leave them now, exactly when they needed him most?
Moses said that God would provide them another prophet. Then Moses died and the navigational sextant was placed in Joshua’s hands. Joshua helped Israel claim the new colonial territory on behalf of the kingdom of heaven. When Joshua died, the lines of authority passed into the care of the “Elders” of the people (Joshua 24). These older, wiser men were eyewitnesses of many of the great legends that created the nation of Israel.
When they passed on, the legends grew but the faith wilted. Israel was adrift at sea, lost in a storm of international intrigue and factional dissension. A few powerful “Judges” managed to prevent the confederation from disintegrating altogether, but it was obvious that stronger measures of leadership were necessary to bring the nation back to days of self-confidence and a place of recognition among neighboring kingdoms.
The crisis of the book of Judges precipitated grassroots calls for a king. “Give us a king!” they told Samuel. “Give us a king!” they prayed to God, so long hidden. The outcome was the monarchy -- established by Saul, consolidated by David, expanded by Solomon, ripped apart by Jeroboam, and eventually whimpering into oblivion at the hands of the Assyrian empire (722 BC) and the Babylonian scourge (586 BC).
During the declining centuries of the monarchy, a strange bunch of men wrestled the spiritual leadership of the people from the hands of the political kings, often surrounded by their cultic priests. These “outside-the-system” renegades were known as the prophets. Some bartered their perspectives in the marketplaces. Some became wailing fixtures in the temple precincts. Some were used by kings as ex officio advisors, and some were hunted down as traitors to the political cause.
Yet even as the prophets became the de facto leaders of the people, urging spiritual chastity and calling for restoration of the religious and political and economic order established by the covenant, the people waited. Prophets came and went, but the great prophet never arrived. When would he come?
Living this side of Jesus, we know the rest of the story that Moses and Israel only anticipated with longing eyes. But knowing about the great prophet does not mean we truly know him or many things we still need to learn through the ongoing prophetic voice of the Spirit. As Paul reminds us in today’s New Testament reading, God still provides prophetic direction, and we are wiser when we listen with care.
Deuteronomy 18:15-20
There are a number of things to consider when reading Deuteronomy. First, its literary “feel” is personal, passionate, and poignant. Deuteronomy is very personal, because it is the last will and testament of Moses as he finds the third of his incredible careers (forty years in training to be a government official in Egypt, forty years of Bedouin family life in the Sinai wilderness, forty years as leader of this nation and mediator between it and Yahweh) drawing to a close. It is passionate, since Moses wants to cram into a few short speeches the entire theology, worldview and mission, and lifestyle that has pressed itself upon Israel through the exodus and covenant encounter at Sinai. It is poignant, because it emerges as a dying man’s testimony delivered with deep meaning to the people he has come to love. Some have called Deuteronomy the “gospel” of Moses because it is filled with the tenderness and goodwill that is truly good news for Israel and the Christian church, which finds its roots in the Sinai covenant. According to the New Testament gospels, Jesus quoted Deuteronomy more than any other Hebrew Bible book except for the Psalms. Particularly striking was Jesus’ use of Deuteronomy in refuting the devil in his wilderness temptations.
Second, while the bulk of Deuteronomy is a restatement and summary of materials otherwise scattered throughout Exodus and Leviticus, in particular, there are a number of minor elements that are newly considered. For instance, when Moses repeats the Ten Commandments in Deuteronomy 5:6-21 (cf. Exodus 20:1-17), the basis for the fourth commandment is altered slightly. In the original Sinai version Sabbath rest was predicated on the rhythm of the creative expressions of God, so that after six days of work rest is given to reflect and renew. Here in Deuteronomy, Moses asserts that Sabbath rest is necessary because of the exodus from Egypt; as slaves there, the Israelites were nearly consumed by the Egyptian worldview that they were made for drudgery, but now Yahweh has reaffirmed the divine design for humans to enjoy life beyond mere toil. Also, the foundational monotheistic testimony of Hebrew religion is clearly articulated in Deuteronomy 6:4-5 in a manner never before expressed: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.” This will become the bedrock confession of Israelite monotheism and will be recited by Jesus (Matthew 22:37) as the foundation upon which all of the rest of the covenant literature and exhortations are built.
Third, there is in Deuteronomy the anticipation of Israel’s settled life in Canaan as now coming very close in a way that did not emerge in earlier documents of the Pentateuch. The battles of the conquest are mentioned (Deuteronomy 7:1-11), along with the unique character of Israel’s social environment once the nation is established in the land (Deuteronomy 7:12-26; 11:1-32). A single cultic shrine is anticipated (Deuteronomy 12:1-7), along with the establishment of a monarchy (Deuteronomy 17:14-20) and an entire national judicial system supported by “Cities of Refuge” (Deuteronomy 19). Finally, the specific covenant renewal ceremony at Shechem is outlined and described (Deuteronomy 27).
It is in this context that our lectionary reading for today should be viewed. Moses is the great prophet who gave birth to the national identity of Israel. Moses met Yahweh at the burning bush, on Mount Sinai, and frequently in the Tent of Meeting within the Israelite camp. In fact, his face sometimes shone with divine glory after he and Yahweh had some long conversations together.
However, Moses was also a man and he was about to die. This is the whole premise behind and purpose for Deuteronomy. Moses is here making his last will and testament. Yet how will Israel be able to go on without the prophet?
So among the forecasts Moses makes about Israel’s life in the future is his promise of another prophet. God will not be distant from the nation. God will continue to lead Israel. Another prophet will rise to speak and lead, and when he emerges the people will know him by the authority of his words and by the truth of his teachings.
Many prophets would appear in Israel throughout the next eight centuries. Some played a minor role, appearing briefly to point either left or right at some crossroad. Some spoke with false voices, pretending authority they never possessed and often leading many astray in the process. A few stood out as thundering ambassadors of God, pulling the nation together in times of crisis, staring down despotic rulers like Ahab and Jezebel, and painting the poetry of eternity. Still, they all died and left Israel without a prophet at the helm after a decade or two.
So Moses’ prediction brought hopes and expectations in fits and starts but left the people praying for more. We know this at least in part because when John the Baptist arrived on the scene, people asked him if he was the prophet. The same thing occurred when Jesus startled the crowds with his miracles and his teachings. Indeed, although many around Jesus were skeptical, Moses’ great prophetic prognostication had come true at last. The great prophet promised had come.
1 Corinthians 8:1-13
The matter of meat offered to idols in 1 Corinthians 8-10 is very interesting, because it arises from confusion about the instructions issued by the Jerusalem council several years before (Acts 15). Gentiles were told that they did not have to first become practicing Jews in order to become believing Christians. But some social and dietary suggestions were offered so that Gentiles and Jews might be able to share table fellowship, particularly when commemorating the Last Supper together. The brief instruction issued by the Jerusalem council several years before was to “abstain from food sacrificed to idols” (Acts 15:29).
Already that command was being interpreted in various ways. When animal sacrifices were made at cultic shrines, particularly on well-attended public occasions, there was often too much flesh either for burning or for eating at the time. Without refrigeration, since the meat was destined to spoil quickly, much of the excess was dumped into the markets at bargain-basement prices. Because many of the Christians in Corinth were slaves or from lower classes, this inexpensive meat offered a lot of meal for the money -- and that is where the controversy began.
Some folks, who had taken strong hold on the freedoms offered by Christ, knew that idols were not rival gods, and therefore any meat purchased in this way was simply a wise use of funds. Others, however, who had emerged into Christianity from prior work at the shrines and former participation in the cultic practices of these non-Christian religions found it scandalous for Christians to buy and eat such meat. Another group remembered the instructions of the Jerusalem council and thought it a matter of principle not to engage in this act that had specifically been prohibited by the church leaders.
Paul’s response sorts through these differing reflections on Christian freedoms and interpersonal responsibilities, and leaves the final decisions up to maturing believers who are wise enough to understand how their behavior can impact others. Once again, as with his instructions in his letter to the Galatians, Paul places the goal of a loving response to Jesus as primary in the making of all moral and ethical choices, and follows that closely with a sense of obligation to serve and help others. In effect, Paul’s ethical code is essentially that which Jesus espoused: love God above all, and love your neighbor as yourself (Matthew 22:37-40).
It seems that Paul was very conscious of elements of doctrine or moral behavior about which there was a direct command in the Old Testament or concerning which Jesus had distinctly spoken. In new situations, where there was not a clearly articulated mandate from God of these kinds, Paul often felt he had the authority as an apostle and prophet to give reasonable religious direction. In this way, Paul’s letters and the writings of others among Jesus’ disciples have become the ongoing prophetic voice of God.
Mark 1:21-28
When Jesus appeared on the Galilean scene seemingly out of nowhere, he caused quite a stir. Demons obeyed him, diseases fled before his touch, disastrous winds calmed at a wave of his hand, and even the dead stood up alive when beckoned by his call. But more than that, Jesus could preach! He could tell a story! He made sense out of religion!
So the people quickly began to ask, “Who is he?” He seemed like the grown-up version of the kid next door, but there was also something hidden about him, something powerful and remote. He was a man like others they knew, but he was certainly also a prophet. Could he be the one Moses had promised? Is this the great spokesman for God?
The gospels regularly tell us that Jesus wandered in a forest of mistaken identities. As the song put it some years ago:
The greatest man I never knew lived just down the hall
And every day we said hello, but never touched at all
He was in his paper, I was in my room
How was I to know he thought I hung the moon
The greatest man I never knew came home late every night
He never had too much to say; too much was on his mind
I never really knew him, and now it seems so sad
Everything he gave to us took all he had
Jesus is often the familiar stranger living among us. He is the man who lives down the hall, yet remains an enigma. The people in his own community wondered in awe about him. Even his own disciples know they don’t really know him, yet they are willing to live with the tension as long as nobody has to name it. We are not that different from them.
One of the college courses I often teach is called “Which Jesus?” In it I take my students through Jaroslav Pelikan’s book Jesus Through the Centuries (Yale, 1999) and the writings of the New Testament, and reflect on the variety of ways in which people think about Jesus. Each time I teach this course I ask my students to write a paper that requires they talk with their parents about how Mom and Dad view Jesus. Invariably I get some papers still wet with tears from students who never before knew the Jesus of their parents’ religious devotions. Too long they had passed by one another snickering at the religious folly of others while never having to face the question of Jesus’ identity themselves.
Somehow we need to sift through the files of mistaken identities and come up with the declaration that Jesus is more than a prophet, more than a religious curiosity, more than a spiritual guru superstar. Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God. Jesus brought heaven to earth and earth to heaven. Jesus is the link between imminent and transcendent, and all of us need to know that if we are to get firm footing on the rock that really matters.
Application
A young girl was watching a parade with her parents when the Scottish Bagpipe Band came by. As her dad explained how the pipes worked, pointing to the bags under the arms of the players, the girl put her hands over her ears and shouted above the shrill sound: “Maybe if they stop squeezing, the bags will stop screaming!”
Sometimes we avoid the biblical prophets because all we hear is their piercing jeremiads. Yet if we take the time to meet them in their historical context, the prophets bring us back to divine messages we desperately need. There is an inherent consistency of message and focus among all of these diverse religious ruminations and rantings. First of all, the prophetic sermons are invariably rooted in the web of relationships created by the Sinai covenant. Israel belongs to Yahweh, and her lifestyle must be shaped by the stipulations of that suzerain-vassal treaty. Obedience to Yahweh triggers the blessings of the Sinai covenant, while disobedience is the first reason for Israel’s experiences of its curses -- drought, war, famine, enemy occupation, destruction of cities and fields, deportation, and so on. For this reason the prophetic writings are laced with moral diatribes that carry a strong emphasis on social ethics.
Second, the function and message of prophecy was very political. For Israel to come under the domination of other nations was always seen as a divine scourge resulting from the application of the covenant curses because of Israel’s disobedience. How Israel handled its international relations showed plainly whether she trusted Yahweh or had otherwise become enamored with power and politics rooted in lesser gods. Constantly the prophets asked whether Israel was Yahweh’s witnessing people, or if she was merely another nation with no particular mission or divine purpose. Israel’s self-understanding was thus always very religious and at the same time very political.
Third, as the epochs of Israel’s political fortunes unfolded, the message of the prophets became increasingly apocalyptic. There was a growing sense that because things had not gone the way they should have, producing heartfelt and ongoing national repentance and covenant restoration, Yahweh will have to intervene directly again, in a manner similar to that which happened during the time of Moses. When Yahweh interrupts human history the next time, however, along with judgments on the wickedness of the nations of the world, Israel will also fall heavily under divine punishment. But because Yahweh is on a mission to restore the fallen world, this next major divine intervention will be paired with a focus also on establishing a new world order, even as the old is falling away under the conflagration. In this coming messianic age, everything in both society and the natural realm will finally function in the manner the Creator had intended in the beginning. Furthermore, because Yahweh is faithful to promises made Israel will not be forgotten, and a remnant of God’s servant nation will be at the center of all this renewal and restoration and great joy.
This increasingly forward-looking thrust of prophecy leads some to think of it as primarily foretelling, a kind of crystal-ball gaze into the future. In reality, however, the nature of prophecy in ancient Israel is more forth-telling, declaring again the meaning of the ancient Sinai covenant, explaining the mission of Yahweh as witness to the world, and describing the implications of the morality envisioned by the suzerain-vassal treaty stipulations.
By the time the seventh century BC rolled around, the prophets were rarely welcome in the royal palaces, even though all that was left of once proud and expansive Israel was the tiny mountainous territory of Judah. During the 600s, although Assyria kept threatening Jerusalem, it was increasingly occupied in defending itself against its rebellious eastern province of Babylon. During these years, while Jeremiah developed his gloomy diatribes in the heart of the capital city, Zephaniah (630-610 BC) provided a few paragraphs against Judah and the nations that surrounded it (chapters 1-2), couching the imminent intervention of Yahweh in the increasingly common term “The Day of the Lord.” In this final chapter, Zephaniah turned his attention toward restoration and renewal, pointing to a future when the fortunes of Yahweh’s people would be made full once again. His words are the basis for all Advent celebrations: in a darkened world where the ways of God are no longer known, God will rescue the covenant community, restore their joys, and provide a light of grace that shines through them, beckoning the nations to enter the messianic celebration with them.
The true light, of course, would be Jesus, even though Zephaniah could not have apprehended at the time exactly how the divine message through him would be fulfilled. We know exactly what God had in mind, and now wait in expectation for Jesus’ culminating return to fully and perfectly realize the grandeur of the messianic kingdom. Someday the prophetic bagpipes will no longer be squeezed, and the music of the angels will shout the “Hallelujah” chorus.
An Alternative Application
Deuteronomy 18:15-20. Abraham Joshua Heschel said that prophets were ordinary people who, like dogs, could hear things an octave higher than the rest of us -- they could hear the voice of God and the sounds of heaven. Because of that their ears constantly hurt, both with the shrill and incessant language of the divine, but also with the constant dull noise of trite, mundane human babble. Their hearts were overwhelmed because they felt the things that moved and hurt the heart of God, and yet they were very human, limited by their own frailties and concerns.
Every society wants its scapegoats, just as every people is looking for a prophet. The two are very closely related, as Plato reflected in The Republic. Moses himself was a prophet who more than once became the target of frustrated Israel and a good number of coup attempts, even from his own family. When Moses gave his farewell address, he assured the Israelites in Deuteronomy 18 that God would provide future prophetic leadership to fill the void left by Moses’ own imminent departure. Israel needed a prophet if it was to fulfill its divine mission and purpose. So it is no wonder that when young Jesus comes home to preach and delivers a prophet’s message, scapegoating and admiration dance a tango in the neighborhood crowd.
Of course, opening this door of prophetic expectation served as a blanket invitation to charlatans and self-aggrandizing tyrants who would vie, throughout Israel’s history, as contenders for the office left too long vacant. Some would be kings who cared not for the covenant mediated by Moses; others would flash their mail-order degrees from slimy schools of spirituality and claim these as prophetic license. “Watch out!” Moses commanded. The true prophet who comes in my place and speaks for Yahweh will be known by this moniker -- he will tell the truth.
It is no wonder that centuries later the remnant of Israel, now reduced to the bickering residue of Judah, were still looking for the great prophet. When Jesus came, speaking with honesty, speaking with clarity, speaking with no pretense, the crowds began asking anew, “Is this the prophet?”
Yet those who receive the words of the prophet with uncensored ears and wistful hearts are rewarded. For a few brief moments in time the voice of God resonates. Cataracts melt from eyes and fear dissolves in the mind. Sight is restored, vision refocused, lives are mended, and hope leads the way. This is why Moses promised ancient Israel that God would always provide prophecy for them, leading eventually to the voice of the great one who would proclaim loudly the goodness of heaven. This is why the apostle Paul’s voice was still requested by the Corinthian congregation after he left town, even when restless spatting sometimes muted his authority among them. This is why even the demons shouted when Jesus passed by, hoping to embarrass him into silence. But the prophet’s voice cannot be stilled. That is why we preach today.
