Like other Nations

A Sermon preached at St Martin-in-the-Fields on June 9, 2024 by Revd Dr Sam Wells

Reading for address: 1 Samuel 8: 4-20

I wonder what you do when somebody you care about comes to you with an idea for their life that you’re not sure is a very good idea. You can say, ‘I really don’t think you should marry that man’; but you may have to show up and play nice at the wedding. If you say, ‘I think applying for that university’s a stretch,’ you’ll be accused of dismantling ambition by imposing low expectations.

I want to explore with you a crucial moment in the Bible when a wise man was consulted about a proposal and thought it was a bad idea. I want to scrutinise that moment because it shows us a lot about what the Old Testament is, about how we best read it, and about how today it can help us discern a path forward for ourselves and for others.

If you read the book of Judges, you find the refrain, ‘There was no king in Israel, and each did what was right in their own eyes.’ After Moses crossed the Red Sea and the Israelites wandered in the wilderness, Joshua led them into the Promised Land and defeated many of the peoples who lived there. What followed was the period of the Judges, where the twelve tribes settled the land and from time to time faced an external threat, whereupon God raised up a leader, known as a judge, whose strength or leadership or wisdom saved the people. In today’s reading from First Samuel, the elders come and say to Samuel, the last of the judges, ‘We can’t go on like this. Raising up leaders is too fragile, and a hereditary system isn’t working. We need a king.’

Samuel prays. He receives a fascinating answer from God. God says, ‘The elders aren’t rejecting you. They’re rejecting me. Listen to them. Don’t refuse them. But make sure they know exactly what they’re letting themselves in for.’ So that’s what Samuel does. He says, ‘This is what a king will do. He’ll take your sons to be warriors, he’ll take your daughters to be housekeepers, he’ll take your property for his entourage, he’ll take a tenth of your produce in tax, he’ll take your slaves, cows and donkeys, he’ll take your sheep: take, take, take, take, take, take.’ But then Samuel reaches the climax of his warning. Five sonorous words you’d e expect to shake the elders to their bones: ‘You shall be his slaves.’ Everything in Israel’s memory – leaving Egypt, crossing the Red Sea, being given the Ten Commandments, entering the Promised Land – every single thing has been about freedom, about being delivered from slavery. And now here are the elders proposing a course of action that will erase that whole history and take Israel back into bondage. They’d escaped Pharaoh – and now they’re creating a Pharaoh of their own. Samuel’s saying, ‘You must be out of your mind.’

But the elders aren’t deterred. They insist on a king. Why? Because they demand to be ‘like other nations.’ Here’s the decisive parting of the ways. Samuel’s saying, ‘This is the whole point: you’re not supposed to be like other nations.’ God has said to Samuel, ‘This desire to be like other nations is a denial of Israel’s identity; a wish to live outside relationship to me.’ But having exposed the real issue, Samuel doesn’t insist on his own way. He’s listened to the elders and warned them, as God instructed; now he gives them their heads. He goes ahead and anoints Saul king.

I want now to analyse this passage to enrich our understanding of what’s going on in the Old Testament. I want to demonstrate five guidelines to inform the way we read a passage like this and to get beyond a simplistic understanding of a simple factual narrative. Here’s guideline one: the Old Testament was written backwards. Israel found itself in exile in Babylon in the sixth century BC. It wrote the majority of the Old Testament as it came to terms with its catastrophic loss of identity, shorn of land, king and temple. So a story like today’s reading is part of that backward glance, rooted in a corporate attempt to find meaning and purpose amidst disaster. Here’s guideline two: the central question the Old Testament’s asking is, ‘What went wrong? After high points in Abraham, Moses, and David, how did Israel so comprehensively fall from grace?’ It’s not hard to see the debate over having a king as part of Israel’s heartsearching about whether it was walking in God’s ways or straying from them.

But then there’s guideline three: somehow God is still faithful to Israel even in exile and even through Israel’s failures. Again, you see today’s story a different way when you see how subtle is its portrayal of God, as one who discourages, warns, sets out consequences, but finally lets Israel go its own way, and in the end works through failure and setback to establish a deeper, more tender relationship. Now for guideline four. Every story in the Old Testament is an argument. You can delineate most of the material in the Old Testament by which theory it’s advocating about who God is, what Israel’s called to be, what went wrong, and how God is still faithful. It’s no longer controversial to say all history is an argument. Phrases like ‘Her-story not his-tory’ and ‘History’s written by the winners’ are familiar because today it’s widely accepted that all accounts of the past have biases, include some things and leave out others, and have an agenda to propound, whether overt or unconscious. Which yields guideline five: the Old Testament’s a constant debate – a constellation of arguments about all the unresolved issues in Israel’s identity, story, faith, worship, discernment and hope. In this case, one reason why kingship isn’t flatly ruled out is because the kingship produced David, and David is the great king to which all of Israel looks back, even the part of Israel in the New Testament – so while kingship is part of the problem, it can’t have been all bad.

See how this transforms our understanding of the Old Testament. It’s not a linear, univocal story; it’s an account of constant reappraisal, re-evaluation and reassessment. It wasn’t written straight through, from Genesis to Malachi: it’s a collection of perspectives from different eras and a constant process of editing as each new compiler adds a new spin on events. It’s not a simple account of a vengeful judgemental God superseded by the loving God of the New Testament; it’s a lively debate about God and humankind, and almost every view expressed in the New Testament can be found in some form in the Old. Today’s passage isn’t a straightforward eyewitness version of a conversation between Samuel and the elders about governing arrangements; it’s a narrative in which we witness every guideline I’ve just outlined: a story written in retrospect from Babylon pinpointing what went wrong, yet even so perceiving the faithfulness of God, making an argument that joins in a debate that runs through the whole of the Old Testament. Don’t write off the Old Testament as a backward book about a provincial people looking to a two-dimensional God that’s been somehow superseded by the New Testament. Today’s passage, like so many, is a profound wrestling with who God is, what God wants, how we respond, and what happens when we get it wrong.

Ok, we’ve looked at the story of Samuel and the elders, and recognised it as a microcosm of the Old Testament as a whole. Now let’s see how this story can help us discern a path forward for ourselves and for others today. I think this story gives us six questions as we discern our future – as disciples, as a church, as a country, as a world. If you have a decision to make today, or are looking for discernment in a relationship, in work, in an election, or as you face your mortality, pondering these six questions may help shape your prayers. I’m going to imagine you’re one of the elders bringing a proposal, and Samuel’s talking to you.

Here’s Samuel’s first question for you: Where are you coming from? Samuel tells you a story about your past. He’s saying, ‘Have you forgotten who you are – whose you are?’ What he’s saying is, we’re embedded creatures, located in narratives about freedom, wisdom, discovery, truth. Here’s Samuel’s second question for you: Where are you going? Samuel outlines a story about your future. He describes a future that looks uncomfortably like one where you’ve learned nothing from the past. He calls you to an honest appraisal of what’ll happen if you pursue this course.

The next two questions put the story in the context of God’s character and purpose. Here’s question three: Who is God? Samuel’s pointing out to the elders that their plan presupposes a distant, uninterested, dormant God – a very different God from the God of Abraham and Moses. Every decision we make reveals who we believe God is. And that leads naturally to where Samuel’s directing the conversation, which is how you are to shape your life in the light of who you’ve discovered God is. Here’s question four: Given who God is, who are you? This is Samuel’s frustration: God has been made known to you, but you’re proceeding as if God were still distant and uninterested and you had no covenant to abide by.

The last two questions narrow down to the specifics of the debate between Samuel and the elders. In the end it revolves around three crucial words: ‘like other nations.’ This the epicentre of the argument. On the one hand Israel is indeed like other nations: it must organise its life, maximise its resources, protect itself against threats, of weather, internal strife and hostile neighbours, and establish appropriate leadership to oversee all these things. On the other hand, Israel’s different from other nations: it’s been liberated by God to live in covenant relationship by which God will give it flourishing life and it will return wonder, love and praise. As for Israel, so for you. Here are Samuel’s last two questions: number five – In which ways are you like others, and must simply face and respond to the realities everyone must address? And number six, In which ways has God given you a unique vocation, to be what only you can be, to sing a song only you can sing?

Let’s ponder those six questions for a moment. Where are you coming from? Where are you going? Who is God? Given who God is, who are you? How are you like others? How are you living your unique vocation? These are the six questions that shape the Old Testament. These are the six questions that frame our lives today, especially when we face a crossroads, personally, as a church, or as a nation. When we read the Old Testament, we recall we’re in good company. Israel had the same six questions we have. When we read the New Testament, we realise we’ve been shown the face of God in a way that changes our answers to all six questions. The Bible isn’t a book of answers. But it does point us to ask better questions.

Here’s the bad news about discernment: even the people in the Bible didn’t know how to decide, and often got it wrong. Here’s the good news about discernment: God remains faithful whatever we decide, and God will always find a way to work us back into the story now, and forever.