Battling Giants
detail, Battle of David and Goliath, Plate, Metalwork -Silver, Constantinople, Byzantium, 629-630 C.E., public domain, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, click image to link.
Sermon Series “Through the Bible,” № 24, selections from 1 Samuel 17
“David said, ‘The Lord, who saved me from the paw of the lion and from the paw of the bear, will save me from the hand of this Philistine’.” –1 Samuel 17:37
As we continue our journey “Through the Bible,” we arrive at one of the most well-known stories in all of scripture. It’s memorable because anyone young or old can relate to its dilemma. Bible scholar Walter Brueggemann says the story of David and Goliath is, in essence, about the "struggle of the marginal against tyrants . . . . "[1]
A sermon on this text could be preached almost any week of the year, because the struggle of the marginal against tyrants so frequently manifests itself. Each week’s news contains detailed reporting about Ukrainian fighters making a series of strategic retreats or advances, bravely defending their homeland. Mass shootings are coming in quick succession: in Buffalo perpetrated on mainly African-Americans; in California at a Taiwanese congregation nesting in a Presbyterian church building; at Robb Elementary School in Texas on children and their teachers. These are just some major stories.
We sympathize deeply with these people, their family, and friends, surprised by an unexpected, vicious attack. They are facing challenges that seem bigger and more frightening than anything they ever imagined. We wonder with them, “How do we battle against giants like that?”
Anxiety about forces beyond control is at the heart of today’s scripture reading from the 17th chapter of 1 Samuel. Worry is rooted in significant differences between the troops opposed for battle: Some of the Philistines are quite large. The Philistines possess a technological advantage that hasn’t yet arrived in Israel. They have learned the art of forging iron tools. When the armies of Saul look across the Valley of Elah, they see the gleam of armor, and the glint of thousands upon thousands of swords and spears. The psychological advantage belongs to the large men with the sophisticated weaponry, not to the hill people with slings and staffs, arrows and bows. Anxious worry has paralyzed the armies of Israel, when David steps into the scene to model a different way.
It’s possible to read and interpret the story of David and Goliath from several different angles. Perhaps the most important thing to notice, some scholars say, is that the story provides an example to emulate of a person who learned to trust deeply in God’s power and grace when facing danger.[2]
David tells us about that trust, when he says to Saul, “The Lord who delivered me from the paw of the lion and from the paw of the bear, will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine.” In the past, David has trusted God through frightening and dangerous circumstances. In the present moment of this story, we see him trust God when facing down the big bully with powerful weapons. In his future, there will be other times when David has to trust and obey God for help through events that threaten his life. Trust in God is not a one-time experiment for David, but rather a lifetime pattern that he learns through practicing trust, again and again.
David models for us the good that one person can do for a nation and a cause when that person lives humbly in dependence upon God’s direction, encouraged by God’s mercy and grace, and develops a pattern of stepping out in faith again, again, and again.
On confirmation Sunday, I think of Annie and Lilah, and some of the things we learned together about a life of faith. We talked about many related things, but at their core was stepping out in faith. They will remember the film clip from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, how trust in God isn’t fully trust, until you take a trusting step. Annie and Lilah, joining the church, the community of God’s faithful people, isn’t just a one-time event that happens on a particular Sunday in the spring. When facing the giants along the path your lives, whoever they are, whatever form they take, the courageous steps of faith you take will be possible because of many smaller steps of faith. That includes the steps you take today, of course. But what will make a lasting difference for you will be developing a pattern of stepping out in faith in God again, again, and again.
This week, I feel a residual pain present for many that I glimpse just by looking at your social media posts after the Texas school shooting.
· “No more thoughts and prayers. Instead, policy and change.”
· “Voices must be raised and heard. Change must occur now.”
These are just a couple of the milder laments. We fear for our students and family members in schools. We wonder what escalating episodes of gun violence mean for our children and grandchildren. Will it require more security measures and armed police officers in our schools? Will it require a greater emphasis in our state and national budget priorities on addressing mental health needs? Will it require laws and policies that better address keeping guns out of the hands of those who shouldn’t have them, while keeping guns in the hands of those who legitimately need them? Will it require a renewed commitment by parents to God and faith communities that nurture faith, hope, love and ethical behavior? Or some combination of these, and more? Will the pattern of gun violence ever be reversed?
I’ve been thinking about this in relation to my upcoming sabbatical, during which Therese and I will be spending a week in Berlin. During my childhood and youth, Berlin was a place that conjured up feelings of grief about a tragic and evil past, and anxiety about a future doomed by oppressive forces beyond our control. I recall during a trip in 1988, talking to German friends of Therese’s family, wondering aloud with them whether the two Germanys, east and west, ever would be reunited. The general consensus was, “Not likely. But we can hope.” Only sixteen months later, many of us watched with stunned but joyful amazement as the wall fell, and decades of Soviet oppression began to melt away.
Five years ago, I emerged from the U-Bahn Station on Pariser Platz to the sight of the Brandenburg Gate, backlit by the setting sun, with a waxing crescent moon in the sky above. In a way not unlike the cross of Christ, it seemed to me that what had been a memorial to violence and death had been transformed. No longer trapped behind an ugly wall, the Brandenburg Gate was for me, like millions of others, a symbol of a profound truth: Even when a society seems hopelessly locked into a state of affairs that will oppress it unendingly, there is still hope for a bright future.
The way things changed hold lessons for Christians today. Looking back, we recall images of people climbing the wall, and breaking it apart with hand tools. But we may forget the way the movement toward this moment began in congregations in the east. Christians paved the way for dialogue about future direction, led peaceful rallies, encouraged calm when needed so that dialogue could continue after passions had cooled a bit. When the government said “no change,” the protesters continued to say “reform!” Their numbers grew into the tens of thousands in Dresden, Leipzig, and Berlin. The wall fell when a society was overwhelmingly convinced that its fall was part of the truest and best, most just and peace-filled path forward for all. Many believe that the movement began in churches, more specifically, in groups of Christians who met to offer prayers to God for peace.
Next month, I plan to be standing at the Brandenburg Gate again, God willing. I will be amazed again at the truth it symbolizes for me. That truth is that by the grace of God, the world can be transformed. When we trust and obey God’s call, taking a step of faith again, again, and again, the world can be transformed. May it be so among us.
NOTES
[1] Walter Brueggemann, David's Truth (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1985), p. 31.
[2] James Newsome, 1 & 2 Samuel, Knox Preaching Guides (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1982), p. 61.
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