Amos 7:7-15; Psalm 85:8-13; Ephesians 1:3-14; Mark 6:14-29
The Rev. Candice B. Frazer
Every so often, as I am sitting in the living room and reading a book, I will begin to hear the high-pitched, scritchy emanations of Joel Osteen. It usually takes a few seconds for the realization to set in—Joel Osteen has somehow wandered into my living room on the television. As soon as I realize who the voice belongs too, I immediately react, telling Steve to change the channel and inquiring into his own mental stability that would want him to turn on someone like Joel Osteen. Of course, Steve is sitting on the couch barely able to contain his laughter as he has been counting the seconds until I make a comment.
I am not a fan of Joel Osteen and never have been. Even before I went to seminary and learned the evils of the prosperity gospel, Osteen’s promises that God would bless you if you sent Osteen money never sat well with me.
I’ve heard this prosperity gospel in other forms—maybe you remember the Prayer of Jabez that was popular several years ago. It was a little book based off some sketchy theology related to an inserted prayer in the midst of a long (and boring) genealogy in I Chronicles. The prayer basically said that some kid named Jabez was born in pain and then prayed that God would bless him, enlarge his territory, and keep him from hurt or harm. The book suggested that if you fervently prayed that prayer you too would be like Jabez.
There are a couple of problems with the book and a theology weighted so heavily on this fellow named Jabez—least of all is that we have no idea if it worked for Jabez. He is never mentioned in scripture by name again. More disturbingly, the prayer contributes to our divesting from basic common humanity principals as well as the role of Christ’s sacrifice in our salvation. The prayer of Jabez may seem simple and godly, but in truth it is the opposite and it privileges the few over the many.
There are lots of other variations of prosperity gospel disguising themselves as the religion of Jesus Christ. Most recently and the one that threatens all of us in deeply unsettling ways is the rise of Christian nationalism.
Christian nationalism is a political ideology regarding the national identity of America. It is not a religious movement—it is not about worshipping, praising, or following Jesus Christ. It is more interested in Christian power than in Christian principles. Those who support it are more interested in perks and privilege. It is a form of tribalism meant to establish a second-class citizenship in America so that those who have power and feel it being threatened can maintain that power even at the cost of liberty and democracy. At its core it is racist and favors the white protestant—especially those of a more conservative or evangelical bend. It masquerades as Christianity celebrating a confidence in God’s sure provision and protection and advocates violent response to anything or anyone who might threaten that provision and protection. In a lot of ways, it is not that different from the reign of King Jeroboam II in the prophet Amos’ time.
Jeroboam II ruled the Northern Kingdom of Israel in the early years of the eighth century BCE. He inherited a violent kingdom that had exploited its relationship with the Southern Kingdom of Judea—his father even captured Jerusalem at one point.
Jeroboam II was a prosperous and strong king and led Israel to a period of territorial expansion and economic growth with significant stability unknown by his predecessors or his successors. As the years progressed, Jeroboam II began to suffer military setbacks in part because he had overstretched his territory and because a new superpower was on the rise in the form of the Assyrian Kingdom directly to his north. Even more than the precariousness of the military setbacks, the economic advantages of Israel were not evenly distributed. The lifestyles of the rich and famous came at the expense of the poor. Further societal separation was experienced through a corrupt court system.
It might seem surprising that a country who overwhelmingly favored the “important” people of the realm to the disadvantage of the common populace would have enjoyed such stability, but Jeroboam II seemed to be able to hold the tensions of economic disparity and national identity in such a way as to encourage a sense of pride or at least an unquestioning willingness to go along with the mood of the country. He did so through religion.
The Northern Kingdom of Israel believed itself privileged in God’s sure protection and provision filling sanctuaries for celebrations related to national successes that were little more than meaningless piety. Even the high priests connected national ideology with worship. It is in this ideology of religious nationalism that Amos finds himself called to expose.
Amos, a herdsmen and dresser of sycamore trees, has been sent by God to carry a prophetic message to the people of Israel. He has met with the high priest, Amaziah, to tell him of the Lord God of hosts intentions. He declares that the Lord will rise against Jeroboam with a sword. The military success and prowess that Jeroboam has known throughout his reign will become his downfall. As he has lived by the sword so shall he die by the sword. Though Amaziah would have taken some offense from the tone of this itinerant preacher from Judea it is more likely the exile of Israel and threat to Amaziah’s family that cause him to expel Amos from Bethel.
The lectionary doesn’t include the juiciest portion of Amos’ confrontation with Amaziah. We stop reading at verse 15 where Amos has defended his role as prophet to Amaziah. In verses 16 and 17 that we don’t read, Amos tells Amaziah that because he is sending Amos away, Amaziah’s wife will become a prostitute, his sons and daughters will be killed in violent ways, he will lose all that he possesses, and he will die on unclean land—quite the insults from a lowly country prophet to the high priest. It’s a little like someone from Auburn marching over to the University of Alabama and telling them they were going to lose every game this season—it would not be appreciated. The warnings are not without warrant because soon after the death of Jeroboam II, Assyria will conquer the Northern Kingdom in 722BCE and no amount of religious nationalism or belief in God’s sure protection seems to have been able to save them from this fate.
In many ways, Israel’s exile is written as a consequence of her distorted view of reality and attributions of God. In scripture, the history of Israel is seen through a religious and theological lens. When she gets her theology wrong, as she did in the time of Jeroboam II, the consequences seem harsh and the judgment as condemnation. But there is a different lens through which to see her religious nationalism playing out.
Israel’s religious nationalism caused her to worship a false god—a god of prosperity who was concerned only with the privileged and powerful few. This deity offered perks to those who have at the expense and the oppression of those who did not have. The worship of this god perpetuated a social injustice unrealized by the political and religious elite but also unrealized by those being exploited. It literally took a prophet coming from another country to point this out. Of course, he would not be listened too and amazingly was only banished and not killed for his prophetic words. But there is something beyond the words of judgment and condemnation—and that is hope.
The Northern Kingdom of Israel was following a false god of prosperity and engineering a religious nationalism to encourage a sense of stability and order. But that is not the God of Moses and the Israelites of the exodus. That God was concerned with salvation and restoration and relationship with his people. Those things exist outside of prosperity or privilege or power or nationalism. They are the true perks of kingdom living.
If we are following a god to prosper us as individuals or even as a nation, then we are following a false god. Our God is a god of hope and peace and love for all mankind. Our common humanity is rooted not in our prosperity but in our suffering and our desire to be free from that suffering is a desire every human being on this earth holds in the depths of their heart of hearts. The god who knows that suffering, the God of the Cross, is the one, true God and he calls us his beloved children because that is our true relationship to the Lord God. It is not a Christian nationalism that speaks to a political identity but an identity rooted in Christ and expressed as God’s love for us and our love for Go and one another.
That is what we are doing this morning. In baptizing Brynleigh today, we don’t do it to make her a good American. We baptize her to show her how much God loves her and how much we do too.