Sermon: Hope and Faith as Resistance to Oppression
The book of Daniel is unique, even for the Old Testament. It is composed in two different languages. It doesn’t fit neatly into any one particular genre, like law, history, poetry, prophecy or wisdom. It starts out with what scholars call court tales, like those in the book of Esther or the Joseph stories from Genesis—stories of danger and intrigue centered around Hebrew people serving in the palaces of foreign kings. The whole first half of the book of Daniel consists of court tales involving the legendary prophet Daniel and his three friends serving in the palace of King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon during the exile. And, like Joseph, Daniel has the ability to interpret dreams and visions.
The second half of the book takes up Daniel’s visions and prophecies, and is essentially an apocalypse—not in the modern Hollywood sense of the word that takes it to mean the end of the world, (although it sometimes sounds and probably felt like it,) but in the sense of Divine Revelation. That’s what the word apocalypse means—an unveiling of something hidden from humans, a revealing of hitherto secret knowledge or events, generally mediated and explained by a messenger of God—in this case, the angel Gabriel. The court tales in chapters 2-6 are written in Aramaic, the language of the Assyrian and Babylonian empires, while chapter 1, which provides the setting and explains how Daniel and his friends came to be in Nebuchadnezzar’s court, and chapters 8 through 12 containing Daniel’s visions and their explanations are composed in Hebrew.
Taken as a coherent whole, the Book of Daniel is best understood as a form of Resistance literature, composed during the Babylonian exile, to bring hope and courage to the people of Israel during their captivity and slavery in Babylon after the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple. It aimed to help the people remember who they were, and whose they were, and to remain faithful to God and to their beliefs, even in the midst of slavery and servitude to the power, wealth and violence of oppressive foreign rule. The first step in oppressing a people is to strip them of their pride, dignity, and sense of security, and then of their sense of self—their culture, their language, their faith, their heritage. There are several other books in the Bible that function, in whole or in part, as resistance literature, including Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, Isaiah, Revelation. Honestly, even the Synoptic Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke were composed under the oppressive rule of the Roman Empire, and constantly contrast the earthly kingdom of Rome with the already-not yet Kingdom of God, insisting that followers of Christ owe their allegiance to God, not Caesar. All of these books were composed under conditions of oppression and either captivity or occupation by foreign governments. These are the conditions under which the Hebrew people lived for many centuries.
The book of Daniel takes place during Israel’s captivity in Babylon. After the fall of Jerusalem and the Kingdom of Israel, the wealthy elite were rounded up, according to some texts, disrobed, shackled to one another, and marched almost 900 miles to Babylon, where they were paraded through the streets of the capitol city like trophies, as the Babylonian people cheered for their army and jeered at their new slaves. Needless to say, a considerable number of those who began the march did not survive the ordeal. The Babylonians also raided Israel’s temple, and placed the gold and the vessels used in Israel’s worship in the temples of their own Gods, as if to say, “Not only did our army defeat your army, but our more powerful God has defeated your God. Your God is powerless to save you.” Israel’s peasants were left behind to work the fields and vineyards, and the produce was sent to Babylon. The empire sent many of their own citizens to Israel to oversee this labor and keep the peasants in line.
Those who survived the march to Babylon were given new names, Babylonian names that honored the Babylonian gods, whom they were expected to worship. They were taught to speak Aramaic, and forbidden to speak their native tongue. As a result, most forgot their Hebrew language, and 500 or more years later, in Jesus’s time, the common language of the Jews was still Aramaic, not Hebrew. Except for the scribes, Pharisees and Sadducees, most Jews could no longer read, write or understand Hebrew, so their scriptures and liturgies had to be explained by Aramaic Targums, and eventually translated into Greek and Latin. They were no longer allowed to worship their God, or pray to God, except in secret. They were forced to follow the customs of Babylonians, expected to eat Babylonian food sacrificed to foreign gods, to dress like Babylonians, speak like Babylonians, answer to Babylonian names, and serve their Babylonian leaders with diligence and faithfulness. Compliance was enforced by threats of violence. Resistance in any form could be lethal.
Daniel and his companions, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah were selected for service to the king mainly because they were young, healthy and good looking. Their intelligence was only a secondary consideration. They were given Babylonian names, the first step toward adoption of and assimilation into Babylonian culture. Daniel, whose Hebrew name meant God is my judge, was renamed Belteshazzar. Hananiah, meaning YHWH has been gracious, was renamed Shadrach. Mishael, whose name meant who is what God is? was renamed Meshach, and Azariah, meaning YHWH has helped, was renamed Abednego. All these new Babylonian names refer to Babylonian Gods—an obvious attempt to make them forget their Hebrew identities, to forget their faith and their covenant with God and encourage them to worship the gods of Babylon. Only Daniel continues to be referred to by his Israelite name throughout the book.
In the story we just read, King Nebuchadnezzar has erected an enormous gold statue, presumably of himself, and decreed that all people in Babylon, our heroes included, must bow down and worship it—essentially worshipping the King as a god. He also declared that those who refuse will be executed, burned alive. Shadrach, Meshack and Abednego refuse. Their names have been changed, but they have not forgotten who they are, and whose they are. They belong to YHWH, the God of Israel, the Creator of Heaven and Earth. They may now live in Babylon, and serve its king, and this may be where they live the rest of their lives, but they still hold fast to their faith. They have not forgotten that their primary allegiance is to God. Nebuchadnezzar may be the most powerful king on earth, and ruler of its most powerful nation…for now, but God is king of all creation, and far more powerful than any earthly king. Nebuchadnezzar takes offense, and orders that they be thrown into the fiery furnace.
But here’s the kicker. Did you notice that Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego acknowledge that God may not choose to save them? The people of Israel are very aware that the reason their kingdom was defeated and are now in Babylon is because the ruling class of Israel was just as corrupt and oppressive of its own peasantry as are the Babylonians. They know that this has angered God. God had sent them prophet after prophet for nearly 200 years warming them that, unless the wealthy, elite ruling class (to which these men belonged) were to change its ways and begin to live by God’s laws of love and justice, they would be conquered by another nation. The Southern Kingdom of Judah had watched it happen to the Northern kingdom when it ignored its prophets, but Judah, too, had failed to heed the warnings. They knew God had reason to be angry and displeased with them. They knew God could save them, if God so desired. But they also believed God had allowed Judah to be destroyed, and had allowed them to be taken into captivity as slaves to their enemies. But either way, they were not going to make the same mistake twice. They were not going to misplace their allegiances. They were not going to choose Nebuchadnezzar above God, or set him in the place of God. They would rather die. They were willing to take that chance—to remain loyal and faithful to God above all else.
They could have simply bowed to the statue, as commanded. They could have justified it, after all, their lives were on the line. They could have pretended to worship Babylon’s gods, and just confessed this sin and asked for forgiveness, while continuing to enjoy the privileges that come with living in the palace and serving the King. But they chose not to pretend, to lie, to make a promise they didn’t intend to keep. Instead, they chose to keep the laws of the covenant. They chose to trust the relationship they had with God, to trust God to keep the promises God had made—to go with them wherever they went, to be faithful to them, to protect them and provide for them, to be their God, always. They chose to risk everything, for the sake of their God. They chose to trust in their identity as Children of God, servants of God, as God’s chosen people of the covenant.
The text doesn’t say that they prayed, but as the king gave orders to superheat the furnace, and as they were bound and tossed into the flames, I think it’s safe to assume that they each began to pray, hoping, trusting that God would hear them, forgive them, show up for them, and save them from a horrific fate. And that’s exactly what happened. The fire was so hot it killed the men who hurled them into the furnace, but it didn’t even touch the clothing of Shadrach, Meshach or Abednego. Instead of lying on the floor of the furnace burning in agony, they were walking around freely in the middle of the blaze, and suddenly there was another man visible in there with them—a man who shined like the Son of God, like Jesus on the mountain at the transfiguration, like the Son of Man in Revelation 1:13-14, the Son of Man who is the resurrected Jesus, the First and the Last, given authority, glory and power, worshipped by all nations and peoples. The fourth person in the fire, which Nebuchadnezzar refers to as an angel, we recognize as Jesus, the Son of God and the Son of Man.
So, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego were called to come out of the furnace, and everyone was amazed to see that they were unharmed. In his astonishment, Nebuchadnezzar decreed that anyone who blasphemed against the Most High God of Israel would be torn limb from limb, for no other God is capable of such salvation. Now, that’s quite a story, almost on par with the Exodus from Egypt
The first half of the book of Daniel is full of powerful and memorable tales like this one. But none of them ever come up in the lectionary. I understand why, and yet… I think these stories are powerful and important, for a number of reasons. First, they help us see the world from the perspective of those who are oppressed, persecuted, colonized. Second, they remind us that we, as Christians, like the Israelites, are first and foremost Children of God and citizens of the Kingdom of God—the Kingdom ruled by the Jesus, who is also the Lamb of God that redeemed us with His blood. This is the Kingdom and the ruler to which we owe our primary allegiance. And it should be the values of Christ’s Kingdom that govern how we live in and participate in the earthly kingdoms in which we live and work and play and raise our families.
Daniel L. Smith-Christopher, in his commentary on the book of Daniel for the New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary, wrote that, “…Christians know that they live in Babylon and not in the kingdom of God.” That got my attention, because my response was, “Do we? To what extent are we really consciously aware of that truth?” And yet, that is the main point of Daniel—that all nations of the world are flawed, and fall short of God’s will and God’s justice. Daniel challenges us to take stock of ourselves, our allegiances, and our values and figure out how to be good, participatory citizens in both realms. The book of Daniel calls us out, and challenges us to look out for the neighbor, the immigrant, the disenfranchised, the marginalized in all nations, including our own. It reminds us that we must be vigilant, and above all we must be, well, faithful. We must never forget who we are, and whose we are, and what we believe. We are the priesthood of all believers, disciples of Christ, and those come first. They get priority in our lives. That’s what should rightfully guide and determine everything else—even our politics and our political ideals. My dear friends, we aren’t members of the Republican Party, or the Democratic Party or the Libertarian Party—We are first and foremost, members of the Universal Party of the Lamb and as such, our values and our goals all coincide. When we forget that, when we let such worldly things divide us, then we have lost our way, and we have forgotten who we are, who we are called to serve, who we are called to follow, and who we are called to be. And when that happens, then we are truly lost. When that happens, I think we need to turn to the Bible, to the book of Daniel, and be reminded once again, that we are Children of God, followers of Jesus, and citizens of Christ’s kingdom. Nothing is more important than these truths.
It isn’t easy. Jesus never said that living faithfully would be easy. He told us the truth. He said it would be hard. He said it might even be dangerous. Living in both realms is a balancing act, one that requires a great deal of prayer and a strong relationship with Jesus. When things get complicated, too hot for us to handle alone, we can trust Jesus to show up, and help us out. We never have to do this alone. Jesus is always with us. Jesus is faithful, even when we are not. Thanks be to God! That’s all the more reason to keep trying to be faithful to him. After all, only the love and grace of Jesus can mend a broken world.