Sadness settled over many of us like a Bellingham fog. We were gathered with friends last Tuesday when the votes began to come in from the eastern part of the US. It quickly became apparent that disaster was in the making. We talked a while about what it meant, about why people voted the way they did, and then we went home. Sad. Chastened. Not sure what to think.
2024 has been such a year, and not just because of this week’s election. Earlier, in a series of well-orchestrated and draconian decisions, the synod of the Christian Reformed Church moved to make it impossible for many of us to remain in the denomination. We have since been deciding where to go and how to leave. It’s sad being forced to leave a church which was long home, but leave it we must, those of us who disagree with the synod and its simplistic, poorly grounded theology.
And now a clear majority of American voters have declared that they prefer as president a convicted conman and serial molester of women who has promised to deport millions of refugees, weaponize the Justice Department against his enemies, and appoint an antivaxxer to head the federal health agencies, these among other things Donald Trump has promised his followers. Imagine waking up on Wednesday in Ukraine. Or, for that matter, in Gaza. Or the United States of America.
Perhaps our worst fears—a slide into fascism, the end of elections, the end of democracy—will not eventuate. I hope not. Perhaps there remain enough constraints in the system that Trump and his enablers will not be able to do all they want to do. Perhaps Trump doesn’t mean everything he says. Many who voted for him seem to assume that he is mostly theater. Perhaps he will remain an ineffective blowhard—a failure at most everything he has done. Perhaps. But I fear that this time it will be different. The people around Trump are different. This time, they have a plan.
So what can we do? It’s here perhaps that the Bible can help us. The Bible, after all, was written by and for people who lived in perilous times. The Bible is quite familiar with narcissistic would-be and actual dictators. What is Daniel 3 about if not a ruler who insists that everyone bow to a golden image of himself. Images need not be made of metal. And in the end, everyone does bow down, except, of course, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, whose real names are Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah. Three Jewish young men. And when the ruler with a taste for gold brings the heat against the three, he discovers that truth cannot be so easily defeated. The angels are on the side of truth.
A Time to Resist
So what counsel does the Bible give us for times like this? The first biblical directive, as Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah knew, is to resist injustice where and how we can. If the new administration does what Donald Trump, the candidate, promised, innocents will suffer. Children will be rounded up and deported to places they have never known. Or their parents will be rounded up, imprisoned or deported, and their children will be left to fend for themselves.
In other places—Ukraine, Gaza—invading armies will be emboldened, and there, too, children will be orphaned and many will die, along with many others whose only crime is to be in the wrong place or to belong to the wrong people. And more. Climate change, which has already brought natural disasters to a broadening part of the globe, will continue unchecked. The likes of Elon Musk will get richer, and the poor of the world will get poorer. Against all of this we must develop the methods and habit of resistance. The Bible rarely if ever calls for revolution; it often calls for quiet and persistent resistance.
A Time to Believe
Along with resistance, this is a time to believe. By belief, I mean what Isaiah means by belief in Isaiah 7, which is quite different from what “belief” has come to mean in American Evangelical theology. We know the 7thchapter of Isaiah mainly for the 14th verse, the prophecy of the birth of Immanuel, used to advantage in the New Testament in the gospel of Matthew (1:22-23) and in our Christmas music. But in Isaiah, ʿimmānû-ʾēl, “God-with-us,” means something quite different. It signified the birth of a child, the prophet’s child, whose birth will coincide with the severe mercy of God.
The setting for Isaiah 7 is an 8th century BCE conflict between an alliance of the kingdoms of Damascus (Aram) and Samaria (Israel) and their southern rival, Judah. This alliance puts fear into the hearts of the Judean king, Ahaz, and his people. In preparation for war and a siege of Jerusalem, the king goes out to inspect the water supply where he meets Isaiah, sent by Yhwh to deliver a message. The message comes in the form of a short poem. The relevant part of the poem, in the way of Hebrew poetry, sets two lines (artfully separated) in parallel with each other:
Within sixty-five years, Ephraim [Israel] will be too broken to be a people . . .
[but] if you do not believe, you will not endure. (7:8b, 9b)
Time to keep the faith. The rest of the chapter adds context. The alliance of small kings that Ahaz fears is actually the least of his problems. A larger menace is on the horizon: Assyria. It’s Assyria that will put an end to the Israelite kingdom to the north and end the threat of the two kings. Assyria will bring devastation to Judah. And renewal. Before the child Immanuel is able to chew solid foods and know right from wrong (Isaiah 7:14-16), the land will have fallen into wildness, but in the wildness, there will be new riches and perhaps a new way of life.
This is more theological vision than what actually happened in 8th century Judah. The message is that in the coming disaster there will be the seeds of a new way to live out the faith. Judgment and grace. But to survive these times, one must keep the faith: “If you do not believe, you will not endure.” In that pregnant sentence both “believe” and “endure” are forms of the same Hebrew verb, ʾāman*, the verb from which we get “amen.” At the heart of the word is the idea of faithfulness. Perhaps we could capture the sentence more idiomatically in English as “Keep the faith, or you will not survive.”
It was something like this that Kamala Harris said in her concession speech: “. . . while I concede this election, I do not concede the fight that fueled this campaign—the fight: the fight for freedom, for opportunity, for fairness, and the dignity of all people. A fight for the ideals at the heart of our nation, the ideals that reflect America at our best. That is a fight I will never give up.” She was calling for those of us convinced of the same ideals to keep the faith. If you don’t keep the faith in the face of the coming chaos, the community of faith will not survive.
A Time to Live Small
One last biblical directive: live small. We are often told to live large, and I have sometimes found that idea appealing, but more often the Bible tells us to live small. Value the small things of life. This is a time for small things.
There are many biblical texts to which I could point in support of the idea of living small, but none more resonant with the times in which we live than the Beatitudes, the short set of sayings of Jesus with which Matthew begins the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:3-12).
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 5:3-10; NIV)
This description of the followers of Jesus is redolent with the experience of the ancient people of Israel. Take the first of them, “poor in spirit.” It takes us back to Isaiah and the “poor” who will be left in the land. Take, for example, Isaiah 61:1:
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor. (NIV)
“Poor” in this case has in mind not just economic poverty but those who are open and teachable, the “poor in spirit.”
The rest of the list is in the same vein: “the sad,” sad for the state of the world; “the gentle” (“meek”); “those who hunger and thirst for justice”; “the merciful”; “the pure in heart”; “peacemakers”; and those who are “persecuted because of righteousness.” These together constitute what it means to live small. In a time of empire, living small was the only option.
How might we live small today? Resist where we can and must. Keep the faith always. Attend to beauty for beauty is of God. Mark the sunrises and sunsets. Notice the first blooms of spring and the last color of autumn. Listen to great music. Eat with friends. Laugh together. Weep together. Worship together. Worship where the worship is of God and not of the preacher. Prefer old words to new. Read. Read poetry. Read good stories. Read old theologians. Read the Bible, especially the funny parts (like the story of Jacob). Pray.
Take a good long sabbatical from politics, unless you are a politician, and then perhaps still take a good long sabbatical. Read less about what is going on in the capitals of the world and more about what is going on in your neighborhood.
And, as Isaiah told Ahaz, don’t be surprised if things go rather different from what you expect. Chaos will surely come, but be attentive to the new order appearing shyly in the middle of the chaos. And when you see it, smile. And say, “Thank you, Lord.”
Live small.
Clay