Amos gets my attention, both for his message and for
his vivid language. I have to listen, his words stick with me. Amos warms my
heart as he describes the Lord
The
one who made the Pleiades and Orion,
and
turns deep darkness into the morning,
and
darkens the day into night,
who
calls for the waters of the sea,
and
pours them out on the surface of the earth
But
Amos is prophesying to the people of Israel in a time of fatness, of prosperity
and freedom from war. The people of Israel are thinking of themselves as God’s
chosen people, therefore nothing bad will happen to them. Amos douses their
smugness with chilling force, denouncing “the strong” who
hate
the one who reproves in the gate,
and
they abhor the one who speaks the truth.
Therefore
because you trample on the poor
and
take from them levies of grain,
you
have built houses of hewn stone,
but
you shall not live in them,
you
have planted pleasant vineyards,
but
you shall not drink their wine.
Reading Amos makes me appropriately anxious. His
language grabs me. I can’t turn away. This is a gift, one especially welcome as
we start into Lent, a time when I look more closely at my life and habits. Amos
makes me consider whether I am contributing towards justice.
I perceive a parallel between Amos and Jesus in
today’s gospel passage from Luke in which Jesus brings his hearers up short,
banishing complacency with the surprise of his praising the unpopular tax
collector who stands “far off” saying “God be merciful to me a sinner!” rather
than the Pharisee who has observed all the correct rituals. I find I want to
spend more time this Lent in quiet “listening” to God.
—Jane W. Rotch
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