The Decadence of Fear--July 26, 2017
"Now the word of the LORD came to me saying, 'Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.' Then I said, 'Ah, Lord GOD! Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy.' But the LORD said to me, 'Do not say, I am only a boy; for you shall go to all to whom I send you, and you shall speak whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you, says the LORD.' Then the LORD put out his hand and touched my mouth; and the LORD said to me, 'Now I have put my words in your mouth. See, today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant'." [Jeremiah 1:4-10]
When God calls you to speak up, it turns out, fear is a luxury you cannot afford.
I know that sounds odd, doesn't it? To say that fear is a luxury?
We assume, don't we, that things that are "luxuries" will be pleasant to us. A second car--or third! A dinner out at a nice restaurant--with cloth napkins, and nothing served with the prefix "Mc-" on the menu! A cruise vacation, a country club membership, a first-class seat on the airplane...these things are all rightly taken as "luxuries"--things that are a bit decadent, things that are nice, but costly, things that are by no means necessary to life but make you feel a bit pampered for a day. And the reason you convince yourself it's ok to splurge on such luxuries now and then is precisely that--they make you feel good, generally speaking.
But really, what makes something a luxury is that it is excessive. Luxury is, by definition, something you cannot really afford. Students of language will even tell you that the etymology of our word "luxury" comes from two parallel terms from the Latin, one that meant "extravagant" and the other that meant "offensive, lecherous, or rank." "Decadent," after all, comes from the notion of "decay". That's the hitch with luxury--you pay a lot for it, knowing it is more than you really ought to spend, and as often as not, it ends up smelling to high heaven. Caviar is an indulgence, but it still reeks of fish and saltwater.
So maybe it is time to acknowledge that being ruled by fear is a luxury, too--at least if we have any desire to be used in God's Movement of Mercy (what the Gospels often call "the Kingdom," or "the Reign of God"). Fear gives us an out--an excuse--to hide, to stay quiet, to withdraw. Fear of "what other people might think," or of "what will happen to my job," or of "who might get offended," or whatever else might be out there, it is an extravagance that reeks to high heaven like old fish eggs, because we allow it the power over us to keep us from letting the Spirit move in us.
It is telling, I think, that the prophet Jeremiah is so honest with us as he tells the story of how God got a hold of him to speak up in his own day. Jeremiah admits that he came with a lot of fear... and that fear hid behind a plausible rationalization. "Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy!" the young would-be prophet insists. It's a solid, almost Moses-like, excuse: "It's not that I don't want to help, God... but I'm just not equipped in the public speaking department, and I don't want to get your message wrong or make a fool out of myself in being your spokesperson." But, of course, that line didn't work with Moses, either--God still sent ol' Moses to Pharaoh despite his protests that he was a poor public speaker, too.
In fact, God's response to Jeremiah is relentless: "Jeremiah, this moment is too important for the extravagance of fear--you don't have the luxury of saying you are just a boy." God's promise is to be with him, and to give him the words and the courage, but God's assurance is not a pass. God doesn't say, "You don't have to be afraid, because I won't make you ever have to do anything hard, or speak to anybody something they don't want to hear, or risk losing your livelihood and life." Rather, God says, "You will speak truth to power... and they won't like it... and they will run you out of town time and again for doing it... but you won't be ruled by fear, because I will be with you."
That is an important lesson for us to see ourselves--God's announcement, "You don't have to be afraid," is never made on the grounds that we won't have to do anything scary or say things in situations that could get us in hot water with someone powerful. It's not, "You don't have to be afraid... because all I'll ever have you say are vague and empty religious slogans that couldn't offend anybody." God never says, "My message will appeal to everybody, and will never scandalize anyone, so get ready for high fives and smiles all around."
Of course not. God knows that the gospel of mercy and justice will always upset people. There is no part of the message of God's Reign that leaves us unaffected or unchanged. The powerful never want to hear that God is on the side of the losers, the broken, the marginalized, and the empty-handed. The "religious" never want to hear that God isn't impressed with their rituals, banners, ceremonies, and incense. The ones who fancy themselves "winners" never want to hear that the living God "feeds the hungry with good things and sends the rich away empty" (thank you very much for reminding us, Mary, the mother of our Lord). The "comfortable" and "inside" group never want to hear that God chooses to specially protect the alien, the stranger, and the outsider, and that Jesus even chooses to be identified with the stranger. My goodness, even grace itself is a scandal to a culture full of knuckleheads who have convinced themselves they have to earn their keep and that heaven is a prize given to people who have racked up enough points.
Jeremiah was going to have to say all that and more--he got scandal in spades when it came to speaking God's message. When the powerful of the day put out an official government proclamation that everything was "great" and Judah was on track to win against all its enemies in a new era of glory and wealth... Jeremiah was given the task of saying, "No--exile is our future, because we've been ignoring the way of God to love neighbor and instead we've been worshiping our weapons and wealth and elbowing the vulnerable out of the picture."
When the official decrees of the capital announced, "We are all going to get rich together--just you wait and see how success and greatness start pouring in, like you have never seen before!" Jeremiah was given the word from God that said the opposite: "No... these are the same old empty promises we've been throwing ourselves at for centuries, and they are always just a bunch of hot air from pompous blowhards standing at the official royal podium."
And when the sad and pathetic puppet king of the day started pouting about how unfair it was to have prophets like Jeremiah raining on his parade all the time, well... God gave Jeremiah more of the same to speak: that the powers of the day were bad shepherds who didn't care about the people, and that ultimately it would take none other than God's own presence to restore a good and just and merciful Reign on the other side of exile.
In times like Jeremiah's, fear of speaking up is a luxury one cannot afford.
In days when the Good News of God's Reign--of the Movement of Mercy, which is for all and draws all--is deeply needed, fear of what someone else might think is an extravagance we do not have the liberty to indulge in.
In the moment when we are faced with either keeping quiet so nobody will ostracize us or standing up alongside someone else who has been told (or has told themselves) they are not eligible for the love of God, what will you and I say?
What will you and I do...now?
Please, dear Jesus, let our words not stink like caviar. Let them bring the freshness of your world-changing, life-giving word.
It is telling, I think, that the prophet Jeremiah is so honest with us as he tells the story of how God got a hold of him to speak up in his own day. Jeremiah admits that he came with a lot of fear... and that fear hid behind a plausible rationalization. "Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy!" the young would-be prophet insists. It's a solid, almost Moses-like, excuse: "It's not that I don't want to help, God... but I'm just not equipped in the public speaking department, and I don't want to get your message wrong or make a fool out of myself in being your spokesperson." But, of course, that line didn't work with Moses, either--God still sent ol' Moses to Pharaoh despite his protests that he was a poor public speaker, too.
In fact, God's response to Jeremiah is relentless: "Jeremiah, this moment is too important for the extravagance of fear--you don't have the luxury of saying you are just a boy." God's promise is to be with him, and to give him the words and the courage, but God's assurance is not a pass. God doesn't say, "You don't have to be afraid, because I won't make you ever have to do anything hard, or speak to anybody something they don't want to hear, or risk losing your livelihood and life." Rather, God says, "You will speak truth to power... and they won't like it... and they will run you out of town time and again for doing it... but you won't be ruled by fear, because I will be with you."
That is an important lesson for us to see ourselves--God's announcement, "You don't have to be afraid," is never made on the grounds that we won't have to do anything scary or say things in situations that could get us in hot water with someone powerful. It's not, "You don't have to be afraid... because all I'll ever have you say are vague and empty religious slogans that couldn't offend anybody." God never says, "My message will appeal to everybody, and will never scandalize anyone, so get ready for high fives and smiles all around."
Of course not. God knows that the gospel of mercy and justice will always upset people. There is no part of the message of God's Reign that leaves us unaffected or unchanged. The powerful never want to hear that God is on the side of the losers, the broken, the marginalized, and the empty-handed. The "religious" never want to hear that God isn't impressed with their rituals, banners, ceremonies, and incense. The ones who fancy themselves "winners" never want to hear that the living God "feeds the hungry with good things and sends the rich away empty" (thank you very much for reminding us, Mary, the mother of our Lord). The "comfortable" and "inside" group never want to hear that God chooses to specially protect the alien, the stranger, and the outsider, and that Jesus even chooses to be identified with the stranger. My goodness, even grace itself is a scandal to a culture full of knuckleheads who have convinced themselves they have to earn their keep and that heaven is a prize given to people who have racked up enough points.
Jeremiah was going to have to say all that and more--he got scandal in spades when it came to speaking God's message. When the powerful of the day put out an official government proclamation that everything was "great" and Judah was on track to win against all its enemies in a new era of glory and wealth... Jeremiah was given the task of saying, "No--exile is our future, because we've been ignoring the way of God to love neighbor and instead we've been worshiping our weapons and wealth and elbowing the vulnerable out of the picture."
When the official decrees of the capital announced, "We are all going to get rich together--just you wait and see how success and greatness start pouring in, like you have never seen before!" Jeremiah was given the word from God that said the opposite: "No... these are the same old empty promises we've been throwing ourselves at for centuries, and they are always just a bunch of hot air from pompous blowhards standing at the official royal podium."
And when the sad and pathetic puppet king of the day started pouting about how unfair it was to have prophets like Jeremiah raining on his parade all the time, well... God gave Jeremiah more of the same to speak: that the powers of the day were bad shepherds who didn't care about the people, and that ultimately it would take none other than God's own presence to restore a good and just and merciful Reign on the other side of exile.
In times like Jeremiah's, fear of speaking up is a luxury one cannot afford.
In days when the Good News of God's Reign--of the Movement of Mercy, which is for all and draws all--is deeply needed, fear of what someone else might think is an extravagance we do not have the liberty to indulge in.
In the moment when we are faced with either keeping quiet so nobody will ostracize us or standing up alongside someone else who has been told (or has told themselves) they are not eligible for the love of God, what will you and I say?
What will you and I do...now?
Please, dear Jesus, let our words not stink like caviar. Let them bring the freshness of your world-changing, life-giving word.
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