Today we enter an
interesting period in our yearly Bible reading, because today we leave King
David behind, and with David we conclude what most of us know about the Old
Testament. I don’t want to assume—because some of you are very biblically
literate—but for many, probably most here, our knowledge of the Old Testament
goes something like: Adam and Eve into Noah’s ark into something about Joseph
and a technicolor dreamcoat into Moses and the Exodus with Pharaoh, then some
business about wandering in the desert, then the Promised Land, fast forward to
David, a little bit about Solomon and his wisdom, then a good deal of blank
space that we fill with prophets and look forward to Jesus.
How many people actually know the
name of Solomon’s son who takes over for him as king?
It’s Rehoboam. He’s right there in
today’s reading. But, honestly, until I read the scripture this week I didn’t
remember that, and I’m guessing if I didn’t know that most of you didn’t
either. The biggest thing I knew about Solomon’s predecessors is that it all
went to pot and the two tribes—Israel and Judah—would end up decimated; first
Israel destroyed by the Assyrians and then Judah in exile to Babylon. So, today
is mostly setting the stage for why that happened.
…And it’s also All Saints Day—a
little strange combination.
There’s at least one thing in this
scripture that I want to focus on today that sort of, but not quite, bridges
All Saints Day and this story, and that is the advisers who come to
Rehoboam—the old men and the young men—and the kind of advice they give.
This reading today is awfully hard
to understand both because of its place and because it uses some repetitive
devices in the dialogue that seem strange and perhaps distracting. Also, it is
meant to mirror Moses’ exchange with Pharoah, which, if you don’t catch immediately,
may leave you even more confused, so, assuming that one or two of you may not
have caught all that I’m going to lay it out as simply as I can. Rehoboam was
the king, Solomon’s son, but there had been a revolt and Jeroboam had led ten
of the original twelve tribes to divide the kingdom. Rehoboam was king over
Judah; Jeroboam was a kind of separatist leader over Israel. The two were in
constant conflict.
In our reading today Jeroboam comes
to Rehoboam looking for a lightening of the burden—the ancient equivalent of
economic and political sanctions imposed upon the people of Israel under
Rehoboam—and so Rehoboam is left with a choice: lessen the sanctions or double
down. And that’s where we find Rehoboam when he turns to his advisers.
It’s no coincidence that Rehoboam
turns to two groups—one old and one young—looking for an answer. It’s also not
a surprise if you’ve read the wisdom attributed to Solomon, especially what you
find in the book of Proverbs, that the older advisers gave him wise advice
while the younger ones offered macho puff-up-your-chest terrible advice that
only worsened the situation. This is a common thread through the proverbs of
the period—age is equivalent to insight; gray hairs are a sign not just of
prestige but wisdom.
We forget that age brings wisdom at
our own peril. There is a ton of truth in it. Of course, not all old people are
wise, and not all young people are foolish. Like any stereotype it is
incomplete but contains some truth. The question for us, as with any assumption
we make about groups of people, is how we can best use this for our own good.
And maybe this is where All Saints Day plays a role.
We are all going to die someday. If
that’s news to you I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you. On All Saints
Day we celebrate those who have crossed that barrier; not only those who died
old but also those who died young and those who lived just about as long as we
imagine a person should live. And part of growing old is a growing awareness of
the reality that we are mortal, which changes us. It just does. So, the
difference between a young person and an old person is not only due to the
changing landscape of the culture and the accumulation of knowledge through the
years, but also the ever-growing mindfulness that death is coming. And I don’t
mean that in a grave, pessimistic way—that’s, I think, one of the issues with
the way young people think about mortality, which is that they think it’s sad
so why bother ourselves with it? Older folks just tend to know better. At their
best, they embrace it and live better because of it.
And that’s where a lot of this
wisdom comes from—the understanding that this life is temporary, so A) what
kind of legacy am I going to live? And B) what actually matters when I’m gone?
The advice that the young men give
Rehoboam, which he ultimately takes because he’s an idiot, is foolhardy, brash
and arrogant. It’s the kind of thing you hear athletes trash talk to one
another. This kind of language can be good-natured fuel, but in the wrong place
it can be devastating. I hear a lot of this language in our political discourse
around America’s place in the world; it’s brash, arrogant, and, frankly,
unrealistic. This is what ends up splitting Israel and Judah, weakening both,
and leading, eventually, to their destruction. If Rehoboam would have listened
to the old men the outcome might have been different.
But there’s another problem here
that I think we need to address and that should be very personal to us as a
congregation. The issue is that there were two groups of advisers, one
old and one young, in the first place. The problem is that the young people
had one idea of how to do things, the old people had another, and they never
talked to one another, so no matter the decision made it would lead to one
group feeling disenchanted and breaking away.
…I can’t imagine this ever happening
today…
The solution should be obvious. If
you sit down at the table with someone and listen to their stories and try to
understand why they feel the way that they do, then whether you choose option
A, option B, or a combination of the two you will, at the very least, have
grown in understanding of the human beings behind the decision being made.
Which is the other part of the problem with this story: Not only were these
advisers broken into young and old, they were also in groups. Groups of people
are always going to appear less human, less approachable, and more formidable
than individuals. When a church is really in conflict what do you hear all the
time? “Some people feel this way or that…” “Some people are really upset about
this…” “Some people don’t like what we’re doing.”
The idea that there are nameless,
faceless people who feel strongly opposed to something is formidable and scary
and makes people never want to serve on a church council. This is why a church
can’t respond to anonymous criticism, and though this hasn’t happened much
since I’ve been here it does happen on occasion. And just as a king who is
advised by a group is more likely to go astray, so we tend to break into groups
that make distinctions easier, and in doing so we lose one anothers' humanity.
Quickly we have a group of old people; a group of young people; and no
connection between the two.
There are many ways to draw
connections, but maybe few better than the universality of our shared human
experience. Today we celebrate all the saints, tomorrow (All Souls Day) we
celebrate all those still living. Everybody here lives in that November 2
present with that November 1 destiny. To break into groups and create divisions
is the antithesis of what it means to be the body of Christ, even if it is one
of the most human things to do.
I don’t have all the answers for how
to make this happen, but I do know this: If we continue to pit young advisers
against old advisers the same thing is going to happen to us that happened to
Judah: division, war, and eventually destruction.
There is good news. It’s that we
celebrate All Saints Day at all, because we have a God who sees through our
petty divisions and unites us even in the most difficult way there is—through
death. That’s where the good news of the gospel really takes hold. That’s where
all of this is made right. It’s just that, in the meantime, we can work at
breaking down these barriers between us and lightening each others' load. We
have a long way to go.
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