Amos of Tekoa
Amos as a herdsman and dresser of sycamore trees, stone relief quatrefoil, 1220-1240, Amiens Cathedral, Amiens France, courtesy of Lectionary Arts, click on image to link.
Sermon Series “Through the Bible,” № 44, Amos 1:1, 5:18-24, 7:7-15
The words of Amos, who was among the shepherds of Tekoa, which he saw concerning Israel in the days of King Uzziah of Judah and in the days of King Jeroboam son of Joash of Israel, two years before the earthquake. —Amos 1:1
As we move through the Minor Prophets, we find ourselves today within the pages of the Prophet Amos. This past Sunday, I told you that Joel is difficult to precisely date. In contrast, Amos makes it easy. In the first verse, we are given a lot of information that helps us place him in context.
First of all, his name, like nearly all ancient names, really means something. “Amos” is derived from a Hebrew verb that means “to load” or “to carry a load.” The great reformer Martin Luther associated the name with his message, writing, “He can well be called Amos, that is ‘ burden,’ one who is hard to get along with and irritating ….”[1]
By vocation, Amos is identified as a shepherd. In the text I read for you, he says he is a “dresser of sycamore trees. He knows something about horticulture, too.
We’re told he comes from Tekoa, a little village south of Jerusalem. Even today, a visitor can see Bedouin herdsmen in the south of Israel, shepherding their sheep in ways not so different than Amos.
We read that Amos lived during the time of King Jereboam II of Israel. He ruled during the “pre-exile” period, in the eighth century B.C.E., when the nation felt prosperous and secure. In retrospect, we know that the northern Kingdom was conquered by the Assyrians just 20 years after Jereboam. The generations that followed Amos saw the courage and wisdom of his warnings, and preserved his prophetic writing.
And what writing it is. Commentator James Limburg says, “This shepherd-farmer has the eye and ear of a poet ….”[2] He recalls the sights of trees in the forest and the fires of war, the sounds of praise-filled hymns and cries of lament, the savory sweet smells of the solemn feast, and the stench of death.
The oracles of Amos progress through a series of visions. Somewhere in the middle comes the vision on which I focus today, the vision of the plumb line. A plumb line is simply a string with a weight at its bottom end. I’ve brought a crude one from my tool box, not as wonderful as a real builder owns, but enough to give you a sense of how it works.
For thousands of years stonemasons and bricklayers have used a plumb line in their work. No matter how crooked the angles may be on a building under construction, the plumb line, directed by the gravity of the earth, always runs perfectly vertical downward from its high point of attachment toward the plumb bob at the bottom. When set against a wall of stone or brick, it provides a standard for determining how vertical a wall really is, and therefore the likelihood of that wall standing firm over time.
According to Amos, God has set a plumb line in the midst of his people Israel. The plumb line represents God’s standards, and it is used to see if God’s people measure up. If not, the Master Mason has authority to call for the destruction of his work, to condemn faulty craftsmanship.
Some of you remember Jack Ades, a church member who died in 2011. Jack was Professor of English at SIUE, and a member of the committee that guided the creation of our six main art glass windows, dedicated forty years ago. One of Jack’s ideas for the Hebrew Testament windows was the plumb line of Amos. The idea made its way through the preliminary drawing stage before the full committee dismissed it. Jack was inspired by the story of Amos, of course, but also by the fact that his father was a carpenter.
Jack told me that during his career at SIUE, he had hung his father’s plumb bob above the office guest chair in which visiting students sat. Can you imagine how a student must have felt, visiting for the first time, and having Professor Ades explain the significance of the strange object hovering above? If I had been a student sitting in that chair, I think the message I received would have been, “Measure up to the plumb line the professor provides, or the plumb bob just might drop on me.”
If you look through the chapters of Amos for a description of God’s standards for measuring up, you will find many vignettes that give us insight. Foreign nations are cursed for carrying Hebrews into exile. Hebrews are cursed for rejecting God’s law, for scrambling for wealth in a way that tramples the poor. Again and again, the text highlights an inequity of resources between the rich and poor, and the violence and oppression required to maintain this imbalance. Bible scholar James Mays looks at the text, and defines Amos’ plumb line then and now by saying, “Treatment of the least favored in the society is the fundamental criterion of the achievement of justice.”[3]
If you take the lesson of the plumb line, and try to apply it today to our very complicated society, then what might measuring up to God’s standard look like? That is a difficult question, and any answer I provide is partial and provisional. Of many ways to respond, one of the more helpful may be highlighting stories, and pointing us toward the examples of others who have applied God’s plumb line to a situation, then tried to measure up.
Years ago, I filed a story about what happened in New York, shortly after the events of September 11, 2001, at Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church. Our brothers and sisters in Christ had recognized a ministry opportunity on their doorstep. For years, the church had mildly tolerated the homeless people who congregated around the church at night. Eventually, as part of their internal process of planning and discernment, the congregation decided to go beyond tolerance, and welcome them.
Rules were put into place. Homeless people were allowed to set up for the night beginning at 8:00 p.m., and were required to leave by 7:00 a.m. There was to be no foul language, loud music, begging, or blocking of sidewalks.
One December night, the New York Police Department began to eject homeless people from the church grounds. No one explained why the police began the raids, or on whose orders. City representatives said that the homeless people were a public nuisance, and the church was providing the world’s worst homeless shelter.
Fifth Avenue Presbyterian took the city to court and won. Attorneys for the church argued that the city was interfering with the church’s ministry, and harming the effectiveness of volunteers and social workers to earn the trust of the homeless and coax them into treatment programs. They pointed out that the church is situated among some of the most expensive stores and luxurious hotels in the city, and wondered whether some officials were more concerned about protecting the tourist trade than addressing the needs of the poorest residents.[4]
I’m too distant from the case to have a good grasp of its details. I’m sympathetic to concerns about public safety. But I know just enough to understand that when our fellow Presbyterians challenged the city’s actions, they were engaging in a prophetic ministry that has a long history and important place in our tradition. If we apply Amos’ plumb line to the church, then an action like that of our fellow Presbyterians in New York might be exactly the sort of thing undertaken as a concrete step toward measuring up to God’s standards.
On Thursday night, our session’s strategic planning team met to talk about some general goals. During coming weeks, members of the team will be visiting with other groups and teams in the church to discuss them. Eventually, the general goals will be amended to include objectives that are specific, measurable, actionable, relevant, and time-based.
Laying the strategic planning work alongside my sermon-writing work made me think about what Amos has to teach us about goals in the church. Now, I’m not suggesting that First Presbyterian Edwardsville should become a homeless shelter like Fifth Avenue Presbyterian. Effective strategic planning, like good theology, pays attention to local context. I doubt that we’re situated or equipped for shelter-style ministry.
Yet, in a neighborhood where building lots sell for $60-80K, and in a community where new housing sells for $400K, $500K, and more, we should recognize the relative wealth and power we possess. And in our plotting and planning the way forward, one lens that can be applied is that of Amos. In our goals and objectives, how do we plan to work toward justice for the least favored in our society?
I’m grateful for the service so many of you already provide to ministries that serve people Jesus once described as “the least of these.” The leadership of our Mission Outreach Committee in modeling generosity and service inspires us. May God continue to bless our discernment of the right path, and our ability to walk in it. In the end, may our service together measure up.
NOTES
[1] Martin Luther, “Word and Sacrament,” Luther’s Works 35, 320, as quoted by James Lindberg, Hosea – Micah, “Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching,” Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1988, p. 81.
[2] James Lindberg, Hosea – Micah, “Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching,” Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1988, p. 83.
[3] James L. Mays, as quoted in Patrick D. Miller’s “The Prophets’ Sons and Daughters,” The Princeton Seminary Bulletin, Vol. XXII No. 3 (2001), p. 281.
[4] Jane Fritsch, “Judge Orders End to Rousting of Homeless Near Church, The New York Times on the web, 20 December 2001.
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