We call them impulse purchases. And just for fun, I thought I’d share a few examples that I came across recently on the internet:
• I bought $50 worth of Beanie Babies because I thought they’d be worth something.
• My partner went out to buy vegetables for dinner and came home with a kayak. He forgot the vegetables and the kayak has never been used.
• I bought a onesie for my Great Dane. I don’t know why I bought it but I think he liked it.
• I’ve bought a lot of “how to” kits and books, like how to knit, how to do calligraphy, how to paint, how to write poetry, etc. Have I learned how to do a single one of those things? No, I have not.
And here’s the one that I think should win the prize:
• I bought a rare exotic cucumber from a guy who said it would give me good luck.
When we look at this morning’s passage, it might seem that Jeremiah was guilty of the same thing when he bought that field from his cousin Hanamel. Just take a moment to try to fix the scene in your mind. The city of Jerusalem was within days of total destruction. The seemingly invincible armies of the King of Babylon had rolled through the towns and villages of Israel and were now in the process of raising their siegeworks against the walls of Jerusalem. Their battering rams were pounding against the gates. The methodical, slow thump…, thump…, thump… could be heard resounding through the city, as soldiers from within vainly twanged their bows and hurled their spears in defence, and while women and children cowered in their homes in terror.
In the midst of all this, Jeremiah was himself being held under arrest for refusing to stop prophesying the ruin of Jerusalem. Jerusalem’s real problem, as Jeremiah saw it, however, was not the armies that were attacking it from without, but the moral rot that had long been causing it to decay from within. The armies of Babylon that were now pounding at Jerusalem’s gates were God’s punishment for its leaders’ and its people’s long abandonment of him and of his righteous laws.
If that weren’t enough, along comes Jeremiah’s cousin Hanamel. Hanamel had not come to comfort Jeremiah or give him company. Quite the opposite, he had come to pressure Jeremiah to purchase a piece of land—a field in Jeremiah’s home town of Anathoth, just a few miles away. I can only imagine that, with the occupation of the Babylonian troops, property values in the area had taken something of a nosedive! But Hanamel hadn’t come to offer Jeremiah a deal. He was insisting that Jeremiah had an obligation to his ancestors to purchase the property. So apparently without any negotiation or haggling, Jeremiah bought the field for seventeen shekels of silver—a weight of around two hundred grams or a little less than half a pound by today’s measure.
Now I can’t tell you whether seventeen shekels of silver was a bargain for a field or not. And besides, Jeremiah never reveals its. But whatever the case, that was not what it was all about.
It wasn’t that Jeremiah’s cousin Hanamel was some fast-talking huckster. Nor was it that Jeremiah was a fool for a good deal or even that he felt an obligation to his ancestors. No, Jeremiah was acting in obedience to a direct command from the Lord himself. God had told him in advance, “Hanamel son of Shallum your uncle is going to come to you and say, ‘Buy my field at Anathoth, because as nearest relative and it is not only your right, it is your duty to buy it.’”
“I knew that this was the word of the Lord,” Jeremiah reflected, “so I bought the field at Anathoth from my cousin Hanamel and weighed out for him seventeen shekels of silver.”
Jeremiah’s Parables
So what was this property deal all about? What was Jeremiah doing when he knew that it was probably only a matter of a few days before Jerusalem’s walls would be breached, the city would lie in ruins, and its people? Well, I suppose you could think of it as a kind of object lesson.
Back when I was pastoring congregations, one of the features of the Sunday morning service every week was the children’s talk. It usually took the form of an object lesson, something from everyday life that the children could relate to and hopefully would stick in their minds. One of the great disappointments of my ministry, however, was the number of adults on the way out of the service who would remark on the children’s talk but would never mention the sermon that I had spent hours preparing!
Object lessons can be memorable. (Think of Jesus’ parables.) And Jeremiah was a master of them. There was the almond tree—which in Hebrew sounds very much like watching. And so Jeremiah used it as a reminder that the Lord was always watching over his people Israel (1:11-12). In alarming contrast to that, there was the boiling pot, tilting over and about to spill—a warning that God would be pouring out his judgement over his people (1:12-16).
Move along a few chapters and there is the linen belt that the Lord instructed Jeremiah to purchase and bind around his waist, only to tell him to hide it among the rocks, where it quickly began to mildew and disintegrate—a visible reminder that God had once bound his people to himself but they had turned from him and strayed (13:1-11). The parable of the belt was followed by the wine jars, which spoke of a people drunk on excess and decadent behaviour and warning that God would soon smash them in his anger (13:12-14). Proceeding to chapter 18, there was what is perhaps Jeremiah’s most memorable parable of the potter’s wheel. If the potter wasn’t satisfied with his work, it was a simple matter for him to reshape it. So it was that the Lord spoke through Jeremiah, “Can I not do with you, Israel, as this potter does? Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand.” (18:1-6)
And the list goes on, with the two baskets of figs, one with good figs, the other with figs that had gone rotten (24:1-10). The bad figs were a warning to King Zedekiah and his officials, who had all become corrupt, that God would banish and destroy them. The good figs stood as a word of comfort to the exiled citizens of Israel: “My eyes will watch over them for their good, and I will bring them back to this land. I will build them up and not tear them down; I will plant them and not uproot them. I will give them a heart to know me, that I am the Lord. They will be my people, and I will be their God, for they will return to me with all their heart.”
Move along to the next chapter and there is the dark parable of the cup of the wine of God’s wrath, which he would force all the nations to drink—including Judah (25:15-29). And two chapters later the Lord instructs Jeremiah to make a yoke and put it over his neck (27:1-11). It was to serve as a warning that Israel and the surrounding nations would soon be made to bow their necks under the yoke of Nebuchadnezzar, the king of Babylon.
Now move along to our chapter this morning, and you can see how Jeremiah was able to use this incident in his life as another parable, another object lesson on the Lord’s dealings with his people. This time Jeremiah was literally putting his money where his mouth was, giving substance to his conviction that God was calling him to stay in Jerusalem.
Yes, the city was doomed to destruction. And Jeremiah could easily have said, “I’m outta here.” But God still had a purpose for him there. Jeremiah was acting out of a deep trust in God’s unfailing promise—a promise made more than a millennium in the past to Abraham:
I will establish my covenant as an everlasting covenant between me and you and your descendants after you for the generations to come, to be your God and the God of your descendants after you. The whole land of Canaan, where you now reside as a foreigner, I will give as an everlasting possession to you and your descendants after you; and I will be their God. (Genesis 17:7-8)
Jeremiah’s purchase of the field, in the midst of a world that was falling apart, was a demonstration of his faith in the unchanging purposes of God. With the Babylonian armies pounding at the gates, Jeremiah was well aware that in all likelihood he would never set foot on that field. Yet rather than disengaging from the realities around him, he chose to do something that from a purely worldly perspective didn’t make any sense at all. His purchase of the field was a witness to his commitment his people and to his unshakeable belief that God, who had shown his faithfulness to them again and again in the past, would continue faithful in the years ahead.
Engagement
Flash forward now to the twentieth century. When I gave my life to Christ as a teenager, I was encouraged to start memorizing verses from the Bible. And one of the verses I remember committing to memory early in that process was 2 Corinthians 6:17, which in the old King James Version runs thus: “Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord…”
Around the same time I became active in a church youth group where we often sang a song that ran like this. (Perhaps some of you are familiar with it.)
This world is not my home, I’m just
a-passing through
My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue.
The angels beckon me from heaven’s
open door
And I can’t feel at home in this world anymore.
Now put these influences together, and I found that there was a constant tug on me not to get too involved in “the world” or to allow myself to be influenced by worldly thinking and attitudes. And I can’t argue that there isn’t a certain wisdom in that. We live in perilous times, when the truth is being bent and twisted and outright denied all around us, to the point where it’s hard to know whom to believe.
Looking back, however, I am grateful to God that he put other believers around me who encouraged me not to insulate myself from the world, but to be engaged in it, to wrestle with secular thinking, to have deep friendships and to work alongside people who didn’t necessarily share my Christian presuppositions. And I found that my trust in God was only deepened and strengthened as a result.
Like Jeremiah, it was vital that I seek, not to insulate myself from the world, but instead, to influence it, even if only in a small way, and to make a positive impact.
Surely that was what Jesus meant when he told his followers, “You are the salt of the earth…” “You are the light of the world…” Salt doesn’t do a lot of good when you store it in its box or in leave it in a shaker. It needs to be sprinkled out and mixed in with the food.
We use salt as a flavour enhancer and we also use it as a preservative. Right now is pickling season. It’s hard to imagine pickling without salt. It’s salt that helps to preserve the pickles, to keep them fresh. And it’s salt that gives them flavour. And that is what Jesus was challenging his disciples to do—and by extension, you and me today.
Years ago there was a popular book called Out of the Saltshaker by a woman named Rebecca Manley Pippert. One little quote from that book that stands out for me runs like this:
What do you do with a man who is supposed to be the holiest man who has ever lived and yet goes around talking with prostitutes and hugging lepers? What do you do with a man who not only mingles with the most unsavory people but actually seems to enjoy them? The religious accused him of being a drunkard, a glutton and having tacky taste in friends. It is a profound irony that the Son of God visited this planet and one of the chief complaints against him was that he was not religious enough.
Jeremiah recognized that, in spite of all the mayhem that was happening around him, in spite of the doom that was surrounding the city, God was calling him to stay. Even more, God was calling him to invest himself in it. And, as I said, I don’t know what seventeen shekels of silver was worth, but it served to signify Jeremiah’s commitment to staying put.
So as we listen to Jeremiah, let me ask you, How is God calling you to invest in your world today—in your neighbourhood? —in your workplace? —in your school? Like Jeremiah, you may never be privileged to see the fruits, but I guarantee you won’t regret it when you hear the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
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