Church of the Redeemer Chestnut Hill The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling
Habakkuk, who lived during the height of Babylonian power, most likely in the decade around 600 B.C, was a prophet who is revered by Jews, Christians, and Muslims, all who claim Abraham as the father of their faith, and through whom God’s promises would be fulfilled. Almost all information about Habakkuk is drawn from the book of the Bible bearing his name, with no biographical details provided other than his title, which was ‘the prophet.’
Scholars have concluded that Habakkuk lived in Jerusalem at the time he wrote his prophecy. He is considered unusual among the prophets because he openly questions the working of God, confronting the profoundly disturbing problem of why a just God is “silent when the wicked swallow those more righteous than they.” He sees the injustice among his people and asks why God does not take action. "O LORD, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not hear? Or cry to you “Violence!” and you will not save?"
Does God care about you and me? Does God care about us and the injustice in our world? Has God turned off God’s hearing aid, tired of listening to our never-ending complaints and laments? Or is our sound system in need of repair? Do we feel as if God has turned God’s back upon us, and that we no longer live under God's protection and care? That God is a Deist watch-maker, creating us and then allowing us to wind down over time?
I wonder if, at the depth of the prophet’s cry, there is a feeling of worthlessness, a concern that his life and the lives of the Israelites are of no value to God. For in the history of Israel, in one of the most memorable and profound acts of loss and terror, was the time when the Babylonians, or current day Iraq, attacked the country of Israel, destroyed their capital city of Jerusalem, and exiled the Israelites into foreign lands. Habakkuk wrote his words in the aftermath of this national tragedy.
In an endless loop of lament, Habakkuk prays, “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen? Or cry to you ‘Violence!’ and you will not save? Why do you make me see wrongdoing and look at trouble? Destruction and violence are before me; strife and contention arise. So the law becomes slack and justice never prevails. The wicked surround the righteous—and therefore judgment comes forth perverted.”
I wonder if this is how the Ukrainians feel today. Does God care that their country has been invaded, property and lives have been destroyed, and parts of their country have been illegally annexed by Russia? Is this how members of any small country feel when a “super-power” casts its long shadow across their borders? Fire missiles over their territory or suppress the rights of their own people within it? Is this how Floridians feel, after enduring the cruel and violent winds and waters of hurricane Ian? Or perhaps, closer to home, is this how you feel after the loss of a loved one?
And so like Habakkuk, we too may cry out to God in our pain and fear, wondering where God is, if God is even aware of our turmoil, and whether God cares? Indeed, we may wonder if we have any value just by our very existence or only by our productivity and power?
Now the issue of our worth, to God, to ourselves and to others, is an age-old problem; and the value of human life is an oft-repeated ethical question. When confronted with things like war, abortion, and violence of any kind, the sanctity of life becomes a focus in the debate. After enduring the loss of our health, our relationships, or perhaps even our jobs, we may question our value.
Like Habakkuk, we may call upon God and one another to make things right. Repair us, we beg! Restore justice, we demand. It’s time to build and rebuild our nation, we exhort one another. Redeem us in your mercy, we plead with God.
My husband Paul once gave me a meditation book many years ago entitled, “Meditations for Women Who Do Too Much.” With a loving note attached, he said that of course he wasn’t suggesting anything to me in particular, but he thought that I might find this book helpful in my work. Responding to him that there was a similar companion book for men, I graciously thanked him for his gift.
So I looked up the word “unworthiness” in this book and found this quote: “Workaholism is the addiction of choice for those who feel unworthy.” Now such seeds of unworthiness are planted in our childhood, often unintentionally by well-meaning parents, teachers, bosses, and clergy, who suggest that our value is measured by what and how much we do. I once saw a bumper sticker that said, “Get busy. Jesus is coming.”
Perhaps filled with shame, for things that we have done or left undone, like the tax collector last week and Zacchaeus this morning, we know that we are sinners. Guilty, yes, but “shame is the belief that you don't deserve happiness, that you're fundamentally flawed and unlovable,” wrote Beverly Conyers, “and that nothing you do can ever make you worthy of love. And when you feed off of shame, it destroys hope.” (November 12, 2021: Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation: How to Find Peace and Acceptance as a Family Member)
This year our women’s Bible study group is reading St. Paul’s letter to the Galatians, which was written sometime around 50 A.D. St. Paul is clearly angry with the members of this newly formed Christian community because some leaders have argued that they must obey the Torah in its entirety, be circumcised, and observe their dietary laws or they will not be saved. St. Paul, a liberal and radical Jew, who had become an apostle of Jesus, taught them otherwise. “You are saved by the grace of God,” he claimed; “have faith and put your trust in the love of God and the redeeming work of Jesus.” Full stop.
We may question our own worth at times, but God does not. Yes, we may err and stray like lost sheep, but we are made worthy by the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world. Guilty and yet forgiven, we believe that we are renewed, restored, repaired, redeemed and reconciled to God by the death and resurrection of Jesus. And we have inherent value as the beloved children of God, created by love and for love from the very beginning of time. Full stop.
When we are feeling distant from God, and wondering about our worth and our world, we can ask that age old question, “Who moved?” Like Zaccheus, who was searching for something more, something better, and something different from the life that he was leading, we can climb that tree and look for Jesus. Or we can post ourselves on that rampart and become sentinels like Habakkuk, looking for the vision of God to come.
Yes, we are saved by grace; and yet our belief in God’s saving work also invites our response. We can pray, move our feet, and open our mouths. It means we will be faithful witnesses to God’s everlasting love and dedicated to the ministry of reconciliation. It means we will accompany others who are suffering, trusting in God’s presence, praying on their behalf, and offering them words of hope. It means we will respond with grateful generosity just like Zacchaeus.
Habakkuk waited and the Lord answered. “There is still a vision for the appointed time; it speaks of the end, and does not lie. If it seems to tarry,” the Lord said, “wait for it; it will surely come, it will not delay.”
This vision eventually did become clear many decades later after Habakkuk lived. It was written on that tablet, on that tree known as the cross, for all the world to see. “This is Jesus, Savior and Redeemer of the World.” It was also spoken by Him for all the world to hear. “Salvation has come to this house,” Jesus told Zacchaeus, “for the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.”
When you’re feeling lost, lonely, and worthless, listen to Jesus. Climb a tree or a rampart and look for God; and then wait for the Lord to answer. For, as Habakkuk once said, “the righteous live by faith.”
Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4
Luke 19:1-10
