What does the Lord require of you? [Epiphany 4A - Micah 6:1-8]

 The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Epiphany 4A

1-29-23

Micah 6:1-8

 

What does the Lord require of you?

 

What does the Lord require of you?  That’s a big question.  But what if I told you: the answer to this highly consequential question is actually in this text – hidden in the sixth chapter of this twenty-seven-hundred-year old book.  Is it even possible that a minor prophet, who lived and worked more than 700 years before the birth of Jesus, clued us in to the secret of life and the heart of God ages ago? 

 

This portion of Micah chapter 6, the one we heard this morning, is sometimes read as a court transcript, the record of a legal contention between God and Israel, with the mountains presiding.  And given the nature of the Hebrew Bible it is not surprising that one might go there.  It is certainly not without precedent; in fact, much of the prophetic canon is shaped by the legal process. 

 

The passage opens mid-argument, with a divine response, a response that was clearly preceded by some complaint, or at least the suggestion of a grievance.  Knowing that the covenant community is upset, about something, God invites the people, the nation, to spit it out.  Rise, plead your case before the mountains.  And plead one’s case is definitely something that happens in a court of law. 

 

But I think what is happening here is more intimate than a courtroom, more domestic than judicatory.  The goal of this text is not a reward or a settlement.  What is broken in this text is not a law but a relationship.  Things are getting a little heated, a little contentious, because the relationship needs some attention, some work.  This is not a court case; this is a more like a marital dispute, an argument. 

 

Now my wife is not in church this morning; she has been, this entire weekend, leading our teens on a spiritual retreat.  Since she is not here, I feel I can safely say, that we have argued before.  It is true.  We have a lovely marriage; I treasure our relationship.  But, you know, sometimes things come up. During our 17 years of marital bliss, we have had a few disagreements; we had the occasional conflict; we have even had words.  And I certainly don’t want to make any assumptions, but perhaps you have, at some point, had an argument with a loved one as well.  And if you have, then you have some sense of what is happening between God and the nation in Micah chapter 6.

 

In the summer of 2004, I completed a unit of Clinical Pastoral Education; I worked as a chaplain at Akron General Medical center, a trauma-one hospital located in the heart of that city.  That same summer I proposed to Jen, my now-wife.  I shared my big news with my CPE supervisor, Lin, a lovingly gruff and direct man.  He replied, “The good thing about marriage is that you have someone you can fight with for the rest of your life – and they will still love you.”  

 

That is the entire story of the Old Testament and so I guess he was right.  That is also the story of this text.  That is the context of this argument.  The foundation of God’s relationship with Israel is strong, despite the tension; the love runs deep.  And that is why, rather than walk away, the parties are willing to get into their issues, are willing to hash things out.

 

One of the things in this chapter that seems a little strange is that the mountains are asked to mediate the conflict.  Mountains, in general, do not appear terribly responsive; we know little of their mediation qualifications.  But the mountains are asked because they remind the reader, and the nation, that the relationship between God and the people is very old.  God and this people have a history; they love each other – which can be difficult remember in the midst of conflict.  The mountains are called to hear them out because they were there when God and Israel looked each other in the eyes and made their vows – the mountains are like an old friend, one of the members of the wedding party.  You might remember that they agreed to their covenant on a mountain called Sinai.

 

God is one of the involved parties here and so it could appear that this fight is not fair.  But God does not dismiss the complaints.  God does not ignore the people.  God invites them to speak and God listens.  Because this is about relationship – and good, healthy relationships are mutual.  And that is the kind of relationship God wants – with them, with us.     

 

I love that God gets sentimental and reminds the people of their past.  It’s like, “I know things are hard right now, but do you remember when we first met?”  And it’s the Exodus.  And when they honeymooned in the desert, and even though there were growing pains, it was such a special time.  And then when they finally bought their first home – and God carried them over the threshold into the Promised Land, from Shittim to Gilgal.

 

And it as if the memories move Israel – and of course they do.  Memories are powerful.  And a shared history bonds us like little else can.  And the people want to know, “How can I make things right?”  But language can be clumsy and it comes out like, “Would everything be OK if I just bought you jewelry?”

 

“With what shall I come before the Lord?”  And we get this list: each offer more significant.  And it just keeps building – to excess.  Voiced in desperation.  Like a prayer offered with more heart than thought.  And the nation seems to think, in the fog of this domestic war, that maybe God’s love can be purchased.  But what can one buy the God who has, and created, everything?   And also, we know, at least deep down, that a relationship can never be repaired simply with stuff.

 

But God is understanding – and is endlessly patient with our terrible ideas.  God, in God’s tender way, says to the people, “You know what I want.  You have always known.” 

 

What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?

 

But human nature is to think we need to offer thousands of rams and rivers of oil.  And God just wants you.  When they met, the people were slaves in Egypt and God fell in love.  When they wandered together in the desert they had nothing to offer and God remembers that time as a special time.  God did not marry them for their money.

 

There is nothing we can do, nothing we can offer God, that will make God love us.  God already does.  God fell in love with you at first sight.  And in the water of baptism, entered into an eternal covenant relationship with you, perhaps before you could even say a word or do a deed.  And nothing can ever separate you from that love. 

 

And in return, in response to God’s perfect love and eternal commitment, God expects nothing but your everything.  Your whole life.  You.  Believe it or not, you are enough for God.  You are what God wants – more than anything, more than a diamond ring, more than a river of canola, more than a herd of juicy rams. 

 

God will love you forever, no conditions, no exceptions.  And in return God only asks that you take the relationship seriously: that you love God back, and take an interest in the things God loves (like justice and kindness), and also spend some quality time with God; I hear God likes walks.  God loves you and wants you.    

 

So what does the Lord require of you?  I think you already know the answer.  Because the answer is you.