by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe
Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.
Amos 7:7-15
This is what the Lord God showed me: the Lord was standing beside a wall built with a plumb line, with a plumb line in his hand. And the Lord said to me, “Amos, what do you see?” And I said, “A plumb line.” Then the Lord said,
“See, I am setting a plumb line in the midst of my people Israel; I will never again pass them by;
the high places of Isaac shall be made desolate,
and the sanctuaries of Israel shall be laid waste,
and I will rise against the house of Jeroboam with the sword.”
Then Amaziah, the priest of Bethel, sent to King Jeroboam of Israel, saying, "Amos has conspired against you in the very centre of the house of Israel; the land is not able to bear all his words. For thus Amos has said,
'Jeroboam shall die by the sword,
and Israel must go into exile
away from his land.' "
And Amaziah said to Amos, "O seer, go, flee away to the land of Judah, earn your bread there, and prophesy there; but never again prophesy at Bethel, for it is the king’s sanctuary, and it is a temple of the kingdom."
Then Amos answered Amaziah, "I am no prophet, nor a prophet’s son; but I am a herdsman, and a dresser of sycomore trees, and the Lord took me from following the flock, and the Lord said to me, 'Go, prophesy to my people Israel.'”
Mark 6:14-29
King Herod heard of Jesus and his disciples, for Jesus’ name had become known. Some were saying, “John the baptizer has been raised from the dead; and for this reason these powers are at work in him.” But others said, “It is Elijah.” And others said, “It is a prophet, like one of the prophets of old.” But when Herod heard of it, he said, “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.”
For Herod himself had sent men who arrested John, bound him, and put him in prison on account of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, because Herod had married her. For John had been telling Herod, “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.” And Herodias had a grudge against him, and wanted to kill him. But she could not, for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him. But an opportunity came when Herod on his birthday gave a banquet for his courtiers and officers and for the leaders of Galilee. When his daughter Herodias came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his guests; and the king said to the girl, “Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it.” And he solemnly swore to her, “Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom.” She went out and said to her mother, “What should I ask for?” She replied, “The head of John the baptizer.” Immediately she rushed back to the king and requested, “I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter.” The king was deeply grieved; yet out of regard for his oaths and for the guests, he did not want to refuse her. Immediately the king sent a soldier of the guard with orders to bring John’s head. He went and beheaded him in the prison, brought his head on a platter, and gave it to the girl. Then the girl gave it to her mother. When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb.
While I was in seminary and studying the Old Testament, Marcus Borg died. Dr. Borg was somewhat controversial but respected as a thoughtful theologian with a compelling story. Part of his story was how the Book of Amos was critical to the building up of his faith. And when he died there was quite a lot of press about this. So my professor thought it would be a fantastic idea for us to do some in-depth study of the Book of Amos. And he sent an email instructing us to do a verse-by-verse analysis of Amos which was due in three days.
Now I have nothing against Amos and I actually love analyzing scripture. But I already had a mountain to climb of assigned readings and writing in 4 different classes, my work with my HR clients and work at my sending church. I was cranky about it. I simply didn’t have time for this. But it had to be done. So in the middle of the night I cracked open Amos which I’ll admit I was reading start to finish for the first time. And then, in the middle of the night, astounded and grateful.
This prophet who lived 750 or so years before John and Jesus is a model for us in the 21st century. In Amos’ time, the people were dismissing needy people because they could. They took advantage of the helpless. They oppressed the poor. Men were using and abusing women. Drunk on their own economic success and had lost the concept of caring for one another. In summary, the folks with power and authority with loud voices had found other gods to worship at the expense of those who had no voice.
Does this sound at all familiar? If you took a look at the front page of the LA Times today or the news feed on your phone, my guess it that you’d recognize the same thing going on today.
And here comes Amos. A tree grower. Reluctant to speak up, not that holy, not that articulate. But so very brave. In reading the Book of Amos, I found a man who holds God’s people accountable for how they use their power and authority, who repeatedly points out how God’s people have turned away from justice. He calls out the privileged people of Israel who had no love for their neighbor, who took advantage of others, and who looked out only for their own concerns.
Amos knows it’s risky to tell the King he’s going to die and that Israel will go into exile. It’s treasonous. But he does it anyway. He’s told to get out of town if he knows what’s good for him. What Amos replies is what resonates with us: I’m not an important prophet or the son of one. I’m not qualified with any proper credentials. I was minding my own business when God grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and said “go talk to my people Israel.” There will be at least one person following God’s commands. And it’s Amos, who takes care of trees.
The work of a prophet in Israel was to remind those in positions of power that their authority was not unlimited, that God’s ways of justice would always overshadow anything that they meted out. God’s justice wasn’t always in line with what was most convenient of desirable for the king.
And that brings us to John the Baptist who told the whole world to get ready for the coming of the kingdom of God, exhorting all who heard him to turn away from their sins and towards God. John’s real vocation was simply as a truth teller. And the real theme here is not the drama of life and death, love and hate that so easily draws us in like a Netflix blockbuster. It’s the devastating tsunami of misuse of power and authority by a small group of people with political ambition and self-centered desires. It’s the unholy mix of Herod, a proud, self-serving king, an insecure and vengeful wife, a subservient daughter and the silent entourage around Herod.
Right away we hear that Herod is haunted by his command to murder John. The ancients believed that when a person died in such manner, there was a power in his spirit that would come back stronger than it had been during his life to exact revenge. Herod feared that the power of John’s executed spirit had come back in Jesus.
We hear layer upon layer of one bad, self-centered act after another. And the complete absence of anyone within the circle of power and authority willing to say “no” or “stop” or “that’s wrong, I won’t participate in that.”
Herod who did not have to arrest John. Or could have released him from prison,
Herodias who was angered by John’s stirring up public opinion against her.
The daughter who complied with her mother’s demand for the death of a holy man in exchange for some entertainment at a party.
Herod who worried about his reputation, so-called integrity and tenuous hold on his throne.
And a room full of party goers who sat by silently.
There was no one willing to speak the truth to authority, no one willing to say “no, that’s wrong. I won’t participate in that, I won’t be part of it.” John died because God was set aside. A true word in the mouth of an honest person, whether credentialed or not, can bring down evil power on earth; a true word can change the hearts of people. But there was no truth spoken that night in Herod’s palace. There was no Amos.
The good news is that all of us have some degree of power and authority. It might not seem that way. We might feel like Amos – tending to our lives as he tended to Sycamores. None of us are kings or high ranking government officials or the child of one. None of us has the power of life and death like Herod did. So we might consider ourselves relatively powerless in our own world. But that’s not true. We have life-giving power of saying, “no, I won’t stand for it.”
The challenge for us as the body of Christ is to look at our own decisions and ask ourselves whether the choices we are making are self-protecting or life-giving as part of God's transformation of the world. We have power to be forces of God’s love in virtually every situation.
One of the things the church has learned from this gospel story is that, like the Apostles, we’re given the charge — by our Baptismal Covenant — to share what we believe about God, and to live a certain way because we are Christians, and to share that way with others. It’s not always easy for us, either. Our lives are complicated. We meet people who don’t believe the things we do. Risking rejection for speaking God’s truth of love, mercy and justice is hard. But if we remember what we do each Sunday here together, that we’re made in God’s image and are loved and forgiven by God, that we are asked to do the loving thing, we are on solid, holy ground.
Stephen Mitchell’s interpretation of Psalm 15 speaks to this:
Lord, who can be trusted with power, and who may act in your place?
Those with a passion for justice, who speak the truth from their hearts; who have let go of selfish interests and grown beyond their own lives; who see the wretched as their family and the poor as their flesh and blood.
They alone are impartial and worthy of the people’s trust.
Their compassion lights up the whole earth, and their kindness endures forever.
Amen.