An Advocate, not a Prophet

Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4

The oracle that the prophet Habakkuk saw.

O Lord, how long shall I cry for help,
   and you will not listen?
Or cry to you ‘Violence!’
   and you will not save?
Why do you make me see wrongdoing
   and look at trouble?
Destruction and violence are before me;
   strife and contention arise.
So the law becomes slack
   and justice never prevails.
The wicked surround the righteous—
   therefore judgement comes forth perverted.

I will stand at my watch-post,
   and station myself on the rampart;
I will keep watch to see what he will say to me,
   and what he will answer concerning my complaint.
Then the Lord answered me and said:
Write the vision;
   make it plain on tablets,
   so that a runner may read it.
For there is still a vision for the appointed time;
   it speaks of the end, and does not lie.
If it seems to tarry, wait for it;
   it will surely come, it will not delay.
Look at the proud!
   Their spirit is not right in them,
   but the righteous live by their faith.

Sometimes we need a prophet. Sometimes we need someone warning us, telling us the bad things that will happen if we don’t clean up our act; or telling us that bad things will happen regardless, and we’d better prepare. Sometimes we need someone to lecture us, to shake us, to snap us out of our complacency and despair and snap us into action. But you know—sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we can’t handle that. Sometimes we’re just too spent, just too overwhelmed to be able to heed warnings or lectures. Sometimes we just can’t handle the intensity, the urgency of prophets and what they prophesize. Sometimes it’s all just too much.

That’s why I love this passage today, that’s why I love Habakkuk. Habakkuk is not your average prophet. It’s interesting he’s even considered a prophet at all, because he’s less of a prophet to me, and more of an advocate. And sometimes we need an advocate more than we need a prophet. Sometimes we need someone to stand up for us, to speak for us, to validate our feelings and our fears, and to comfort us and give us hope.

Now, the normal prophet stories go like this—they get a call from God, God tells gives them a very important message or warning to relay to the people, and then after that it’s kind of out of everyone’s hands. If people don’t believe the prophet, so be it—this is why Jeremiah is the weeping prophet, if you remember—no one would heed his warnings, no one wanted to hear the truth, so they just ignored him, even imprisoned him. But Habakkuk, who is believed to be a contemporary of Jeremiah due to the fact that he is talks at length about the rise of the Babylonians in his book, took a different route. He wept too, but he didn’t weep to his people—he wept for his people, to God. If we look at what comes in between the two selections that Sue read for us today, what we see is Habakkuk lamenting the violence and the cruelty of the conquering Babylonians— “…that fierce and impetuous nation / who marched through the breadth of the earth / to seize dwellings not their own.” “They all come for violence, / with faces pressing forward; / they gather captives like sand. / They laugh at every fortress, / and heap up earth to take it. / Then they sweet up like the wind, / they transgress and become guilty; / their own might is their god!”

So in the beginning, in verse 3, when Habakkuk says to God, “Why do you make me see wrongdoing / and look at trouble? / Destruction and violence are before me; / strife and contention arise,” this is what he was talking about— this cruel and violent people coming in and taking what is not theirs. He doesn’t understand why he must watch helplessly as his promised land is overtaken, why these horrible things are happening and God seemingly does nothing.

At Bible study this week, it was a pretty universal feeling of relatability regarding verse 3— why must we see so much wrongdoing, why must we look at so much trouble? There’s that helpless feeling, every time we get a breaking news alert on our phones about another mass shooting, about the Russian invasion of Ukraine, doom and gloom about the upcoming elections, regardless of where you stand politically. As always, I’m disheartened by the fact that such an ancient text remains so relatable in our modern, supposedly more civilized world. And while we might not know why it sometimes seems like God is ignoring us; while we may never be able to answer that eternal question: why do bad things happen to good people— we can at least find somebody or something to make us feel less alone, to validate our feelings and our fears, to let us know we’re not crazy to be consumed with anxiety, we are not the only ones. Habakkuk is sort of inverting the whole concept of what a prophet is. Instead of hearing a message from God and relaying, he was speaking for his people—his people who were scared and grieving and confused. Since he is a prophet, he has this direct line to God, so he can engage in a dialogue with God on behalf of his people. What a brave and difficult thing to do—to question God, to ask God why, to be open about confusion and doubts. We need someone in our corner like this. We need someone who can help with that disconnect between this unconditionally loving God and all the wrongdoing and trouble we see on a daily basis.

And in these past few weeks, reading mostly Jeremiah, we’ve seen a God angry at their people, a God who is compassionate yes, but also frustrated and kind of at their wit’s end. But we see a different God in Habakkuk. We see a God who is not chastising Habakkuk, the complainant, or even the Judeans who are about to be exiled once again— God makes it clear that the Babylonians are the bad guys, are the oppressors. “Look at the proud,” God says (proud, in this case, is interchangeable with arrogant)— / Their spirit is not right with them, / but the righteous live by their faith.” And before that, instead of scolding Habakkuk or his people for whatever they may have done to bring this Babylonian uprising on themselves, God comforts Habakkuk by assuring him, “…there is still a vision for the appointed time; / it speaks to an end and does not lie. If it seems to tarry, wait for it; it will surely come, it will not delay.” And the rest of God’s speech is really something. God goes on to pretty much agree with and validate everything Habakkuk is saying—God talks a lot of trash about the Babylonians—in fact the next section of the book of Habakkuk is entitled “The Woes of the Wicked.” Here are some examples—“…wealth is treacherous, / the arrogant do not endure,” “They gather all nations for themselves, / and collect all peoples as their own.” “…you who get evil gain for your houses, / setting your nest on high / to be safe from reach of harm! / You have devised shame for your house by cutting off many peoples…”. God goes onto blast the Babylonians for creating an empire out of oppression and iniquity, for taking advantage of those they conquer and for creating idols that do nothing but serve their own purposes.

Now—we all know things aren’t great right now. I think we all know that things need to change. And I think we’re all bracing ourselves, regardless of where we are on the political spectrum, for what kind of chaos or change these midterms are gonna bring. And our rage-fueled internet echo chambers don’t help. The constant barrage of bad news doesn’t help. And maybe some of that news, maybe some of those well-meaning internet lectures, maybe some of it could even be considered prophetic. But I think a lot of us know. And those echo chambers create so much more anxiety and so much anger that’s just not productive. Sometimes we just need someone to answer our complaints and our fears and our rants with “Yes. Things are rough right now. It’s scary. But we’re in this together, and it’s ultimately going to be okay.” I Imagine Habakkuk was this person for his people. And I also really like to imagine him saying ,“You know what? I’m gonna take this up with God and report back. Hold tight.”

Now maybe we don’t know anyone with a direct line to God these days, but I’m sure we all have someone in our lives who has stood up for us before; who has spoken up when we’ve been too scared, who has written a strongly worded letter on your behalf, who will always be there to support you in whatever way they can—someone who truly understands you and your fears and your anxieties, and doesn’t make you feel wrong or weak for those feelings. Or maybe you’ve been that person for someone else—that person who gets righteously angry for someone you love, the person who speaks up when that person you love just doesn’t have the energy in the moment. It’s so deeply important to have that person at times, and to be that person at other times.

And the really incredible thing about Christianity, is that Jesus is always that person in our corner. Jesus was both prophet and advocate—he was constantly telling and warning his disciples what was to come, but he also god righteously angry at time. He wept on the cross and asked God why this was happening. I know I’ve said this before, but it’s always been such a tragedy to me, and I used to hear this in my chaplaincy work all the time, that people truly believe that it’s not for them to question, or to ask God why; that they’re not allowed to complain, to cry out to God. I could never understand this, because not only do you have Habakkuk here advocating for his people by questioning and challenging God, but you so many examples from Job, to dozes of psalms, to of course—Jesus—asking why? Why is this happening? Please make it stop, this isn’t fair. I wonder how some people keep their faith when they believe it’s not for them to question, because I can tell you, that the reason my faith has remained as strong as it has, the reason I stand before you today is because I never feel alone with an advocate like Jesus—Jesus who knows my pain and my sorrows and my worries. Jesus who followed in the footsteps of all the prophetic advocates before him, asking God why, questioning, and challenging so that we may better understand and make sense of this strange and cruel world.

So, after God goes through the woes of the wicked Babylonians, Habakkuk responds with reverence and gratefulness—‘O Lord, I have heard of your renown, / and I stand in awe…of your work. / In our own time revive it; / in our time make it known.” Habakkuk goes on to remember all the might and power and Love of God. And Habakkuk know that these uncertain, difficult times will not last. He knows that in humankind’s time, goodness will be restored. And what really struck me about all of this, is if we go back to our selection for today—to hear this response from God, and to get back to this point of awe and hope, Habakkuk strands at his watch-post. He standings himself on the rampart to “keep watch to see what [God] will say to [him] and what [God] will answer concerning [his] complaint.”

And this really struck me—because in our world today that is so loud and so fast and so overwhelming—even here in beautiful Vermont, we can’t escape the deluge of news and chaos—that in the midst of everything, Habakkuk stopped, watched, and waited patiently for God’s answer.

I know a lot of my sermons seem urgent. And a lot of prophetic messages, a lot of Jesus’ warnings feel very urgent, and there are plenty of theological and historical reasons for this, but you know—sometimes we can’t handle that urgency. Sometimes it’s too overwhelming. Sometimes, rather than urgency, we need to stop. We need patience, we need quiet, we need to wait in contemplation and discernment. I can’t promise you you’ll get a direct response from God when you enter a quiet space of discernment and contemplation as Habakkuk did. But you will get a respite from seeing wrongdoing and trouble, from the anxieties of strife and contention. You will get a sense of calm, a sense of hope, and you’ll remember that you are not alone in whatever you’re feeling—because you always have an advocate on your side.

Now the book of Habakkuk is written as a psalm, so the very last line of the book reads, “to the leader: with stringed instruments.” So Jan is going to help me end this sermon on a hopeful note, after I read chapter 3, v. 17-19:

Though the fig tree does not blossom,
   and no fruit is on the vines;
though the produce of the olive fails
   and the fields yield no food;
though the flock is cut off from the fold
   and there is no herd in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord;
   I will exult in the God of my salvation.
God, the Lord, is my strength;
   he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
   and makes me tread upon the heights.