Sunday, September 25, 2022

Proper 21

Jeremiah 32:1-3a, 6-15; Psalm 91:1-6, 14-16; 1 Timothy 6:6-19; Luke 16:19-31

The Rev. Clint Brown

The prophet Jeremiah, in prison, secures the purchase of some land during a siege. Straightforward, uncomplicated, and…confusing. What possible difference could this make to us? Why does the Bible distract from the urgent business of telling us the meaning of life, the universe, and everything to record something so pedestrian, so trivial, as the management of a prophet’s assets? And during a time of war, no less? So to a fair question let us begin by first establishing some context.

Now as prophets go, about Jeremiah we know quite a lot, enough to paint a reasonably clear picture, and that’s because Jeremiah is at the front and center of the book that bears his name. There is a great deal of autobiography in the book, about his circumstances and personal reaction to events, a great deal more than we usually get, which has led students of the Bible to feel that we know the man and his quirks on a more personal level than most other Old Testament figures. Our story today is a case in point. He was a native of the southern Kingdom of Judah during its waning days. His father was a priest and Jeremiah seems to have become intoxicated with religion as a boy, answering a personal call of God to serve in the capacity of a prophet. What is a prophet? Not so much a predictor of the future as a proclaimer of the mind of God to God’s people, a preacher of consequences. Which is how our scene opens. We find Jeremiah in prison for having antagonized the king one too many times, in the way that prophets do, by telling him what he didn’t want to hear: the kingdom was lost; Jerusalem would fall; and Zedekiah was destined to soon be paraded through the monumental Ishtar Gate of Babylon as just another trophy of war, and a blinded one at that. Indeed, in a siege of attrition that would ultimately stretch for eighteen months,[1] it did not take any special clairvoyance, divine or otherwise, to see that the writing was on the wall.

So what is so important about Jeremiah, languishing in prison with the whole world falling apart around him, purchasing his uncle’s land over in Anathoth? There are two reasons, one practical and one symbolic. The practical reason was to keep the land in the family. At this time when someone found themselves in a compromised position financially, they had recourse to only one of two options: they could either sell their land to their creditor or sell themselves into slavery. Now, truth be told, the choice was usually made for them and, again, truth be told, either one pretty much guaranteed the other. So to prevent this, the Levitical law provided for the redemption of the land by a family member, a “right of redemption” (v. 7), and, so, to save his family from a terrible fate, in this case, that fell to Jeremiah. But more than a heart-warming story of filial responsibility, what really makes this story special is its symbolism. This was a symbolic act more than anything else because to purchase property at this time was to express faith in a future restoration. To make provision for the future at such a time, despite every sign to the contrary, was to express the belief that the people of God even had one. This is the dramatic gesture, the prophetic sign, the hidden message of this passage. “Put [everything] in an earthenware jar,” says Jeremiah in his detailed instructions, “in order that they may last for a long time” (emphasis added). However long restoration was to take, even if he and all the parties should die, all the necessary documents would be preserved and ready to produce when the time came. “For thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land” (vv. 14-15). That was God’s promise, and Jeremiah believed it.

Just this week we find the stock market sinking to historic lows as the Fed doubles down on its inflation-fighting measures. It’s yet another crisis to add to all the others, but for all the crises in our lives – times of inflation and market volatility and pandemic and whatever is particular about your circumstances and situation – Jeremiah’s faith in the future is a lesson. Like Jeremiah, I find myself needing to project myself into the future, and the way I am doing that is by having my future self ask my current self, “Will you be able to look back at yourself and be proud of the way you handled it?” And when I think about it like that, I know I don’t want to look back and see a complainer, a whiner, an embittered curmudgeon for whom the poor man at my doorstep has become invisible. I am no economist. I cannot tell you whether the same minds who so woefully underestimated the present levels of inflation can now be trusted with getting us out expeditiously, but I’ve decided that, for my part, I can do some good. In my house we are going to be tightening our belts, raising the thermostat, making do with less, and putting off some big purchases. Perhaps you can do that, too?

Nothing lasts forever. Not this inflation. Not a pandemic. Not even the next crisis that will come. But what does last is having to wake up the next morning and live with how we responded. I believe we will be alright. I believe this is yet another caution and warning light telling us that the trajectory we’ve been on is unsustainable and we can only continue to ignore them to our peril. I have heard it said that the primary danger of wealth is that it causes blindness.[2] Pray to God that that is not us. Pray to God that we can look back and be proud of ourselves.

[1] Jerusalem came under siege in January 587 BCE and fell in August of 586 BCE. For further details see Mordechai Cogan, “Into Exile: From the Assyrian Conquest of Israel to the Fall of Babylon,” in Michael Coogan, ed., The Oxford History of the Biblical World (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), 266.

[2] John Donahue, The Gospel in Parable: Metaphor, Narrative, and Theology in the Synoptic Gospels (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1988), 171.