9/9/51

Scripture: (Read Psalm 27)

A while ago, someone with a memory of his Sunday School stories long enough at least to recall three (3) names from the book of Daniel, wrote a song with a popular swing about Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, the three who had an encounter with the king’s fiery furnace. It became popular fun for a while to swing those names around to rhythm -- probably a harmless pastime in a few moments of relaxation.

But the story of those three young Jews, and their stand under the order of the heathen king Nebuchadnezzar, is well worth a thoughtful reading of chapter 3 in the book of Daniel, where it can be found. The king of Babylon had decided to enforce a totalitarian regime with reference to religion. It has often been the moral misstep of dictators that they have decreed the kind of deity their people must worship or have even aspired to supplant the deity themselves.

King Nebuchadnezzar dressed up his decree by enlisting the full cooperation of the department of music. He decreed that, at the sound of the cornet, flute, harp, bagpipe, psaltery, dulcimer and all other kinds of music, all of his people should fall down and worship a golden image which he had caused to be set up. And he “put teeth” into the order by announcing the penalty for disobedience. Anyone who refused, declined, or neglected to worship by this royal prescription was to be thrown into a fiery furnace and be burned to death.

Three Jewish youths became troublesome in that they declared themselves conscientious objectors to the order. The Jew-baiters of that day promptly notified his royal highness, the king, of this vile rebellion. Nebuchadnezzar did not turn the matter over to any Senatorial Investigating committee, but heard the case himself. He set before the three youths, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, the simple alternative of bowing down or burning up. And they stuck by their conscientious conviction, replying: “If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace.” [Quite a claim, isn’t it? Really remarkable faith! But I submit to you that their faith is revealed as more remarkable in the next sentence of their reply.] “But if not, be it known unto Thee, O King, that we will not serve thy gods nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up.” [Daniel 3: 12-30].

Well! That was plain enough! --- and defiant enough so that there would seem to be only one thing a self-respecting tyrant could do --- which thing the old despot promptly did! Without any dallying around, he ordered the biggest, toughest men of his command to heat up the furnace seven times hotter than usual and to toss the rebels in! And he went along to see that the order was carried out to its last letter.

It is a hair-raising -- if not hair-singeing -- story, and one is not likely to lay down the book without reading on to see how it all ends. But the exciting outcome of the story --- how the big tough servants were burned to death by the heat blast of the furnace, as they threw in the three disobedient Jews, while the boys themselves walked around in the heat without getting a hair singed --- sometimes obscures the spiritual point of the story.

The quality that makes this account deserve to live in religious literature through the ages is found in the way those three young men with a conscience took the risk. There was no risk so far as the king’s order was concerned. When they were arrested, they probably knew the tyrant would order them burned. But they dared accept the risk as to what God would do about it. They believed in a deity with power to save them from the agony of burning. But, as always, they did not know that He would work a miracle for their sakes. Nevertheless they were resolved to be utterly loyal to the God of their fathers and of themselves.

The point of this story was not lost by a great Christian of the 16th century. In 1521, Martin Luther had already been four years expecting execution at the stake. His opponents had frequently given him only two more weeks of life. He himself had scarcely expected to live more than six months. Back in 1517 he had attacked the indulgence traffic of the church and had gone on to assail the infallibility of the pope and of general councils. He had reduced the number of sacraments from 7 to 2; had criticized the system of celibacy of the clergy.

There was no doubt in the minds of the hierarchy that the upstart priest was a heretic; and the penalty for heresy was burning at the stake. However, the hierarchy was in no position to execute the penalty, and had to call on the arm of the state. For four years, political complications prevented the state from taking action.

In 1521 a new emperor had been elected. He was a grandson of strong Catholic sovereigns, Ferdinand and Isabella. There seemed little doubt that he would have any scruples about burning a heretic. In the light of this ominous situation, Luther was asked what he would do if he were invited to appear at the Diet of the empire, meeting in the city of Worms. Luther replied: “You ask me what I shall do if I am called by the emperor. I will go even in I am too weak to stand on my feet. If violence is used, as well it may be, I commend my cause to God. He lives and reigns, who saved the three youths from the fiery furnace of the King of Babylon. But if He will not save me, my head is as nothing compared with Christ. This is no time to think of safety. I must take care that the Gospel is not brought into contempt by our fear to confess and seal our teaching with our blood.”

Here again is the Christian teaching concerning the way to accept a risk for moral principle. Luther did not know, at that time, that he was to escape the stake, to live on for another 25 years and to die in his own bed. Such an outcome of his conscientious determination appeared, at the moment, to be about as unlikely as the escape of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. But nevertheless, he took his stand!

The situation of most of us is not as dramatic, though it is perilous and uncertain. In this nuclear age, even our jokes have become grim.

Toynbee: “No annihilation without representation.”

Luccock: “We hold this truth to be self-evident,

that all men are cremated equal.”

About 1946 or 47, a student said to his professor, “The difference between your generation and mine is that you expect to live out your lives, and we do not.”

Well, the picture may not be quite as gloomy now as it seemed then. After all, more than six [ten] years have gone by since the shooting of the second world war stopped. Perhaps we shall continue to escape, and our feverish preparation for the eventuality of a third world war not necessarily throw us into that furnace. The arrival at any important treaties of peace is hopeful, though some of the provisions make uneasy those who rejoiced that Japan was never again to arm for war, at the thought that we have now encouraged her to do so to a degree.

We still live precariously. A race in armaments is always tense enough so that a relatively minor indiscretion on either side is sufficient to precipitate the holocaust. And the near East is a powder keg with boys playing nearby with matches. We tread warily, not really knowing whether our technology advances us toward the Garden of Eden or the Fields of Gehenna.

Some say: “What’s the use of taking a stand? Of building for tomorrow? Why risk what life we have; or spend it?”

[a man in a German city re: rubble: What’s the use of rebuilding? Russians may come. New war. All reduced again to rubble.]

[Some say, “What’s the use of finishing school? Why train ourselves in the pursuits of peace when we’ll have to go in the army anyway? Isn’t it better to fool around with some kind of good time, ‘till then?”]

Several comments on such a mood:

1) It is gambling on the worst. “If worst comes to worst, what’s the use?” But it is possible that the worst might come to best. Isn’t that worth a gamble? Of course Our Lord was not spared his crucifixion. Neither are some of his followers. [Paul, Peter]. But some are delivered just as the three young Jews in Babylon, and the crusading priest of the 16th century, Luther. Is the chance worth the effort?

[German man who bet on the best. He had a choice -- spend his savings for a car or a house. He decided on a house. “If I buy a car, people will think I intend to flee if the Russians come. If I build a house, people will think that I believe the Russians will not come; or if they do, that I expect to stick it out.” Perhaps the Russians will not come. So far they haven’t to that part of Germany. In any case, he has taken his stand.]

2) But if not -- This contingency must also be squarely faced.

A year ago, a theological student from Czechoslovakia was in a seminary in the USA. He had come 2 or 3 years earlier, when Czechoslovakia was a republic. Then the communists came into control. His Czech friends in the US advised him by no means to return. He would walk into a fiery furnace. He could remain by renouncing his Czech citizenship and declaring himself a DP. But it would mean cutting himself off from his family, giving up finances, and he would be unable to serve his church at home. If he was to return, he might be able to do all these things, or some of them. And again he might end up in a Russian labor battalion in Siberia. He wrestled agonizingly for months. And then came his clear decision that he would return. Thus far, no “fiery furnace.” Ordained, married. But he did not know, when he left the US.

3) On what grounds shall one take a stand? What if worst comes to worst? The answer is in a deeper Christian choice and devotion. Job: “Even though he slay me yet will I trust Him.” [Job 13: 15]. Some words from the book of Habakkuk -- the prophet foresees military invasion and terrors of a hostile army of occupation. He concludes: “Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be on the vines; the labor of the olive shall fail and the fields shall yield no meal; the flocks shall be cut off from the fold and there shall be no herd in the stalls, yet will I rejoice in the Lord; I will joy in the God of my salvation.” [Habakkuk 3: 17-18]. A college professor lost his young wife in childbirth during the week he was to read the Scripture in college chapel. He did not ask to be excused, but took his place and read this passage from Habakkuk.

One region of faith has its testing when the worst has already come to the worst. And even yet one does not become cynical or despairing, idle or indifferent, but faces up to the ordeal.

Jesus faced 2 possibilities: (1) “May this cup of suffering pass from me”; and (2) “Nevertheless not my will but thine be done.” [Matthew 26: 39]. When the cup did not pass away from him, he accepted it with all its suffering, and with the cry: “Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit.” [Luke 24: 46]. Such faith looks beyond the present, looks beyond history, into the realm of right where there is peace of heart and conscience known only to those who find that God is God. (Like Paul).

Life on this globe may perish. Tragedy may stalk personal lives. I knew parents of 3 healthy children who then had a Mongolian idiot; a husband whose young wife contracted TB; a family whose mother died of cancer. I have heard of those in ravaged Europe who have suffered imprisonment, the raping, disease, and murders of relatives, the loss of loved ones swallowed up in the morass without a word as to where they went, the continuance in concentration camp of husband or wife --- yet go on without reviling or repining, doing what strength allows them to do, to raise the fallen, comfort the broken hearted, strengthen those who are sore beset. These are the people who make sense out of faith, because faith for them has made sense out of life.

The words of the 27th Psalm were written for life as it is -- whether of prosperity or adversity. And the Psalmist radiates the saving faith of one who knows how to accept a proper risk.

“The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life, of whom shall I be afraid? Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear. Though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident. In the time of trouble He shall hide me in his pavilion. He shall set me upon a rock. I had fainted unless I had believed to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait on the Lord. Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen thine heart. Wait, I say, on the Lord.”

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Delivered in Wisconsin Rapids, September 9, 1951.

Also at St. John’s E&R churches of Arpin and Wisconsin Rapids, April 8, 1956.