One of the wisest things I’ve ever
heard was from a teacher of mine who was asked a question in class. The actual
question doesn’t matter—I don’t remember it was at least—but he answered the
question by saying, “Sir, you are not asking the right question. You need to
think of a better question.”
I can’t begin to count
how many times I’ve wanted to say that to a person. I mean, on the one hand you
want people to be vulnerable and ask anything so those of us who teach like to
say, “There are no stupid questions,” but that’s really an invitation to those
who are shy or afraid to ask what they want to ask. The truth is that there are
lots of stupid questions. Questions that are designed to show the correct-ness of the person asking it are bad questions; questions that are personal attacks are
bad questions; questions asked to mock and belittle
are bad questions. There are many cases where the best answer is: Think some
more and come back with a better question.
I
thought of this today because the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego is
really the story of Nebuchadnezzar asking bad questions. He starts out by
making a golden statue to worship; it’s a statue of him, by the way, in case
you were wondering. The statue is the first example of Nebuchadnezzar asking
the wrong question, because the kind of person who makes a giant golden statue
of himself has to be asking a question like, “How do I demonstrate that I am powerful?”
If Nebuchadnezzar
asked a different question—a better question—something along the lines of,
“From where does my power come?” he would have likely a gone a different path.
Most likely he instead tempted by the question, “How do I get more power?”
which is the most tempting of all questions, but it also not the best question
when it comes to living a good life, especially a life of faith.
Shadrach,
Meshach, and Abednego show why. Being good Jews and knowing the idolatry is a
big no-no in God’s eyes, they refuse to bow to the giant statue. Instead of
asking, “How can we get power?” they are asking,
“From where does true power come?” and they realize true power cannot come from
Nebuchadnezzar. He’s just a man—a king, sure—but just a man. True power
empowers not just the person in power but all people; it doesn’t seek power for
its own ends; true power comes from God, because God is not in it for himself,
like Nebuchadnezzar—and many politicians. They can’t worship this golden statue
because it isn’t true. But that’s not the interesting thing; the interesting
thing is that all the people in the land know this, right? Everybody knows that
leaders who make statues and require loyalty oaths and whatnot do so not
because they have a lot of power but because they feel vulnerable; the question
is whether we pretend and give it to them, or stand up for what is actually
true.
This
is no easy question. Because if Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego are asking the right question it means that we are
called to ask likewise; it might mean, as Jesus suggests, that asking the right
question leads us to taking up our crosses and following. It’s much easier to
ask the wrong question—to ask, “How can I save myself?” The only way you can
make that choice to defy the king, who will in all likelihood kill you, is to
ask the much harder question: “What really matters?” What really matters? If you ask that question then be prepared to have
much demanded of you. This is why most of us avoid that question at all costs,
because if we ask the question we have to be prepared for an answer that
demands self-sacrifice. That’s absolutely terrifying. It is much easier to not ask
the question at all.
But
the story goes on: Nebuchadnezzar is enraged by their lack of fealty and it
says in the reading that his face becomes distorted with rage when Shadrach,
Meshach, and Abednego answer that they will never worship him, even under
threat of being thrown into the furnace. Nebuchadnezzar never stops to ask of
their motivation; he only considers their reaction from the perspective of
power. He sees there’s as a political move—something that can be quashed by a
furnace. How many political leaders throughout history have made the same move—taking
their opponents faith and trying to kill it by killing them? It never works,
because Nebuchadnezzar, in a long line of poor leaders, is asking the wrong
question.
You
know the rest of the story. They get thrown into the fire; they live;
Nebuchadnezzar repents and proclaims that their God is the true God, but
honestly, I don’t think Nebuchadnezzar actually changes much. He keeps asking
the question about power until he gets a different answer. The reason I believe
this is because let’s say God doesn’t save Shadrach, Meshach, and
Abednego—let’s say they get burned up in the fire like countless martyrs
including eleven of the disciples, St. Paul, and countless numbers of the
prophets. Most people who follow got don’t get saved; they get killed—let’s
pretend Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego are among them. Still, Nebuchadnezzar
would be asking the wrong question, and still it would do nothing to change the
answer that Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego are seeking. Nebuchadnezzar doesn’t
change tack; he just finds something more powerful than him. He doesn’t make
the leap of faith; he just makes a political move.
On
the other hand, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego have faith no matter the
result. In verse 17 it says, “If our God whom we serve is able to deliver us
from the furnace of blazing fire and out of your hand, O king, let him
deliver us. But if not, be it known to you,
O king, that we will not serve your gods and we will not worship the golden
statue that you have set up.” You can’t say this unless you are asking the
right question, because their faith is not dependent on God saving them; it’s
dependent on what it true, and truth is not a golden statue—even if it’s
convenient to believe it is.
I
think this business of asking the right question is hugely important, because I
see a lot of people who seem to be asking the wrong questions of their lives,
and it’s very difficult to have a conversation with a person when the questions
that are their foundation are faulty. If you live your life following the
question, “How can I win the most?” then it’s going to be very hard to
reconcile your life with a life of faith that is asking, “What really matters?”
If you’re asking “How do I get more power?” it’s going to run aground against
Jesus who begs us to ask the question, “How do I give my power away?”
I
really see this when it comes to politics, which isn’t at all surprising
because this story of Nebuchadnezzar and these three men is about politics. In
politics many people already have their answers, because they already know what
the questions are, but, like Nebuchadnezzar, we have to be careful that we
aren’t asking bad questions. We have to check that there aren’t better
questions we could be asking. And, finally, we have to decide to follow the
questions where God is actually leading us. It might lead into a furnace; it
might even lead through it, but what matters, in the end, is if the questions
we are following are worthy.
Good
questions lead us to God. Good questions lead us to that mystery box of Advent,
waiting, wondering, on a mystery. Good question don’t give us the answers we
want but the answers we need. Good questions give us Jesus.
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