Amos 5:18-27
(Amos as the voice of God)
I can't stand your religious meetings
I'm fed up with your religious conferences and conventions
I want nothing to do with your religion projects
I want nothing to do with your pretentious slogans and goals
I'm sick of your fund-raising schemes
I'm sick of your public relations and image making
I've had all I can stand of your noisy ego-music
When was the last time you sang to me?
Any of us who have participated in any of these things should be questioning what is being written right now. If we read this as God's timeless truth to us, then we should really be wondering. The first question we should ask is, "Why would God say something like this," followed with the question, "What are the implications for me and for us?"
As we've read through the book of Amos, we've learned a few things about the Israelites and worship.
First: The Israelites have become a dominant nation, stripping the resources of surrounding nations in order to make itself huge.
Second: Worship has become an outflow of injustice.
A few words on the stripping of resources - The author has written that all the countries surrounding Israel, who've been taken advantage of for generations, are ready to retaliate. They realize what's been happening and are tired of having their toes stepped on.
And, a few words on unjust worship. When you build temples and sing songs and play music that's claiming a devotion to God, while their are people starving and dying outside, something seems off base.
Have you ever walked or driven through an impoverished neighborhood, and then come across a massive church building that looked like it took millions of dollars to build but was run down?
Have you ever driven past a homeless person on the way to a worship service, so pumped up about worship that you didn't even notice him/her?
Have you ever said no to helping someone out financially because you knew the building campaign needed the money more?
It's in this context that the author is telling the Israelites, "God hates your shows, your religious festivals, and your ego music."
The author is pulling back the veil even more of a different kind of God. This God desires justice over sacrifice and righteousness over religious festivals. This God wants nothing to do with sacrifices and offerings and music and ceremonies and conferences if . . . there are people starving and hurting and thirsty and oppressed sitting right outside the building.
In the opening line of the passage, the author gives us a hint that there's this underlying conception streaming its way through Israel that "God's gonna save us from our enemies."
What the Israelites don't see though, is they are their own enemies. They are the ones who've extorted the poor. They're the ones who've been turning their noses. They're the ones who've been building their mansions on the backs of the helpless.
This God wants something different than all of the other known gods want. This God wants: oceans of justice and rivers of fairness. In other words, if worship and song and prayer and offerings are not this joyful outpouring of justice and fairness, then the author is saying that this God doesn't want to be a part.
What a concept.
Now on to the implications for us.
It's the Christmas season. Tomorrow's Sunday, which means millions of Americans will be stepping foot inside of a space where worship happens.
Can we honestly look back over this week, and say that our worship tomorrow is a result of the work we did towards justice and fairness throughout the week? Can we say that helped the poor? Can we say that when the opportunities arose, we did what we could to promote justice?
It may not be far-fetched to say that if we did, worship will be a time of celebration - a time of recognizing God's blessings and a time to reflect on the week and recharge and re-strategize for the next.
Or, worship will be another rote, monotonous task of bringing our peace offerings, our voices, and our wallets to the God who doesn't want them.
Where do we stand today?
I can't stand your religious meetings
I'm fed up with your religious conferences and conventions
I want nothing to do with your religion projects
I want nothing to do with your pretentious slogans and goals
I'm sick of your fund-raising schemes
I'm sick of your public relations and image making
I've had all I can stand of your noisy ego-music
When was the last time you sang to me?
Any of us who have participated in any of these things should be questioning what is being written right now. If we read this as God's timeless truth to us, then we should really be wondering. The first question we should ask is, "Why would God say something like this," followed with the question, "What are the implications for me and for us?"
As we've read through the book of Amos, we've learned a few things about the Israelites and worship.
First: The Israelites have become a dominant nation, stripping the resources of surrounding nations in order to make itself huge.
Second: Worship has become an outflow of injustice.
A few words on the stripping of resources - The author has written that all the countries surrounding Israel, who've been taken advantage of for generations, are ready to retaliate. They realize what's been happening and are tired of having their toes stepped on.
And, a few words on unjust worship. When you build temples and sing songs and play music that's claiming a devotion to God, while their are people starving and dying outside, something seems off base.
Have you ever walked or driven through an impoverished neighborhood, and then come across a massive church building that looked like it took millions of dollars to build but was run down?
Have you ever driven past a homeless person on the way to a worship service, so pumped up about worship that you didn't even notice him/her?
Have you ever said no to helping someone out financially because you knew the building campaign needed the money more?
It's in this context that the author is telling the Israelites, "God hates your shows, your religious festivals, and your ego music."
The author is pulling back the veil even more of a different kind of God. This God desires justice over sacrifice and righteousness over religious festivals. This God wants nothing to do with sacrifices and offerings and music and ceremonies and conferences if . . . there are people starving and hurting and thirsty and oppressed sitting right outside the building.
In the opening line of the passage, the author gives us a hint that there's this underlying conception streaming its way through Israel that "God's gonna save us from our enemies."
What the Israelites don't see though, is they are their own enemies. They are the ones who've extorted the poor. They're the ones who've been turning their noses. They're the ones who've been building their mansions on the backs of the helpless.
This God wants something different than all of the other known gods want. This God wants: oceans of justice and rivers of fairness. In other words, if worship and song and prayer and offerings are not this joyful outpouring of justice and fairness, then the author is saying that this God doesn't want to be a part.
What a concept.
Now on to the implications for us.
It's the Christmas season. Tomorrow's Sunday, which means millions of Americans will be stepping foot inside of a space where worship happens.
Can we honestly look back over this week, and say that our worship tomorrow is a result of the work we did towards justice and fairness throughout the week? Can we say that helped the poor? Can we say that when the opportunities arose, we did what we could to promote justice?
It may not be far-fetched to say that if we did, worship will be a time of celebration - a time of recognizing God's blessings and a time to reflect on the week and recharge and re-strategize for the next.
Or, worship will be another rote, monotonous task of bringing our peace offerings, our voices, and our wallets to the God who doesn't want them.
Where do we stand today?
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