Faith Tested by Fire
The Three Hebrews in the Fiery Furnace. From the Catacombs of Priscilla, Rome, Italy. Late 3rd century / Early 4th century. Courtesy Wikimedia Commons, click image to link.
Sermon Series “Through the Bible,” № 42, Selections from Daniel 3
If our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the furnace of blazing fire and out of your hand, O king, let him deliver us. But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods and we will not worship the golden statue that you have set up. –Daniel 3:17-18
A journey through the Bible’s prophets presents some difficult, challenging passages, like those in Jeremiah, and his poems of Lamentations that follow. Others are a comfort, even a joy. The prophet Daniel is a good mix of the two.
Daniel may be placed in historical context with reference to the 29th chapter of Jeremiah. There, Jeremiah sends a message to the exiled leaders of Jerusalem living in Babylon. He advises them to settle into their new lives, and work for the good of the land in which they must now live. Among the Exiles at Babylon was young Daniel, who grew into a great prophet himself.
The book that bears his name has generated a conflict familiar in biblical studies. On the one hand, a traditional and more Fundamentalist perspective assumes that the book was written in the sixth century B.C.E., and that Daniel’s prophetic ministry foretells future events. On the other hand, a more progressive, mainline perspective understands Daniel to be based on a sixth-century figure, whose hero stories (chapters 1-6) were shaped by following generations, and whose interpretation of dreams (chapters 7-12) grew into apocalyptic literature during the second-century B.C.E.
Biblical “apocalyptic” texts, like the Book of Revelation, arise among God’s people coping with oppression and danger, and proclaiming God’s message with fantastic stories and symbols that stand for real events and real people. Bible scholars tell us the crisis that shapes chapters 7-12 of Daniel is the invasion of Judah by Antiochus IV Epiphanes, a Greek king, who plundered the Temple, and prohibited Jewish worship. From the perspective of these scholars, Daniel’s prophecies were not formed in the sixth century B.C. by looking 400 years into the future, but rather were shaped in response to this situation and proclaiming God’s word of judgment and hope.
If you’re going to study Daniel, it’s good to know something about this background. It’s helpful when skeptics say, “You know, Daniel probably was written hundreds of years after the events it records; Daniel might not have been a real person at all.” From my perspective, I think there was a real person named Daniel. The generations following embellished his stories, just like we have embellished stories of our heroes. But just because George Washington didn’t chop down a cherry tree, doesn’t mean that there’s nothing for us to learn from his character, and the amazing, even miraculous, events through which he displayed great leadership. And it’s especially helpful to know something about this background when new religious leaders falsely claim that they know the exact course of future events, even the end of the world, because they have the secret key for interpreting Daniel’s prophecies. I’ll say again that the Book of Daniel does not contain some secret, coded prophecy about events in our future. Instead, it records God’s message of judgment and hope to an ancient people, which, in turn, may become a message of judgment and hope to us today.
Daniel holds several inspiring stories. From childhood Sunday school, you probably remember Daniel and his friends, who will not defile themselves with the king’s rich diet and drink, but instead eat their vegetables and properly hydrate with pure water. In the end, they are not only mentally wiser, but also physically healthier, than all the king’s men.
There are the instances when Daniel interprets King’s dreams, the statue with the clay feet, the mysterious writing on the wall, and Daniel’s miraculous deliverance from the lion’s den.
The passage that I chose for reading today seemed especially appropriate for Transfiguration Sunday. This time of year, we usually read about Jesus and his disciples on a mountaintop. In a mysterious moment of messianic revelation, Jesus appears with the prophets Moses and Elijah, bathed in a holy light. The text that I read for you, about the punishment of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, is a mini-transfiguration story. Not only do the three faithful Jewish men survive the heat that instantly kills those who threw them in, but also they are joined for a time by a mysterious stranger who meets them in the flames.
Bible scholar Sibley Towner, in his commentary on Daniel, tells us that in some ancient manuscripts, at just this point, two psalms are inserted, known as the “Song of Azariah (Abednego)” and “The Song of the Three Young Men.” These psalms, though not present in our Bible, have influenced the way interpreters identify the stranger. The first concludes with the prayer, “Let them know that thou art the Lord, the only God, glorious over the whole world.” Following, the angel of the Lord comes to work the miracle. He “drove the fiery flame out of the furnace, and made the midst of the furnace like a moist whistling wind, so that the fire did not touch them at all ….”[1]
This story inspires and encourages me. In times when it would be easier to go along with the crowd, and compromise with oppressive forces, it inspires me to continue the discipline of worshiping God and doing what is right. It encourages me to pray, that just as the three young men were delivered, so may God also deliver those who face similar circumstances today.
As I thought about the courage and resolve of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, I was reminded of my sabbatical last summer, especially the time Therese and I spent at the Gedenkstätte Deutscher Widerstand, the German Resistance Memorial Center. It was one of a few places I chose to spend my 60th birthday, if that tells you anything about my preferred ways to celebrate a personal milestone.
Housed in the former headquarters of the German Army, the memorial center’s original intent was to commemorate members of the army who resisted Hitler’s control. But it eventually grew into a much larger tribute to individuals and groups who resisted the Nazi regime.
As I worked my way through the exhibits, I read about more groups than I ever imagined, who were persecuted or resisted or both. There were Catholic leaders and Confessing Church leaders, like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, of course. But there also were professors, teachers, musicians, youth groups, and members of the German military. Each and every exhibit was featured with portraits, sometimes walls of faces, highlighting the individuals who stood up for what was right, and often faced consequences ranging from loss of work, to imprisonment, to execution.
The labyrinth-like tour takes you through the offices of Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg, whose story is dramatized in the film “Valkyrie,” and who was a major actor in the failed plot to assassinate Hitler. Eventually, you enter the brick-floored courtyard where, on the evening of July 20, 1944, he met his fate. Two walls, perhaps thirty feet in length but only one-foot high, made of what appear to be gray flagstone, mark the position of the firing squad. About twenty paces away, and near the center of the courtyard, is a statue of a man, slightly larger than life-sized. This is Colonel von Stauffenberg, stripped naked for his execution, his face calm and resolute.
A bronze plaque embedded in the brick walkway reads, “You didn't bear the shame. you resisted, you gave the greatest eternal sign of repentance, sacrificing your precious life for freedom, justice, and honor.”
My family associations with Germany made this visit especially meaningful, and I don’t expect that everyone here would feel the way I do. Some would say not to make a hero of von Stauffenberg. He was a Christian, but made anti-semitic statements. He believed in principles of justice and the common good, but for a long time compromised with the Nazi authorities in order to continue on his career path as a military officer.
But thinking about his faults makes me appreciate von Stauffenberg all the more. You see, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego seem so idealized that it’s hard to relate to them. But when it comes to Claus, I can identify with his real-world complexities, and his real-life contradictions. He lived in the midst of a messy time, trying to do what was right for his country, but unable to escape the stain of what was wrong with it. And if someone like him can grow and change and come to the point of standing up for what is just and right, sacrificing his life by the age of only 36, then maybe, by the grace of God, I still have a chance to amount to something, too.
Dwelling on all this reminded me of the song I’ve placed in your bulletin today as a hymn of affirmation[2], both its challenge and its comfort:
They lived not only in ages past;
there are hundreds of thousands still;
the world is bright with the joyous saints
who love to do Jesus’ will.
You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea,
in church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea;
for the saints of God are just folk like me,
and I mean to be one too.
NOTES
[1] W. Sibley Towner, Daniel, Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1984, p. 54.
[2] I Sing a Song of the Saints of God, Glory to God hymnal, #730.
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