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Daniel 6: 6 –
24 September
20, 2009
DANIEL IN THE LIONS’ DEN: This morning we begin a series of sermons reflecting on some of the old, old bible stories of our faith, and this morning I would have us take a look at one of the oldest of them all, the story of Daniel in the Lion’s Den, as illustrated by the old engraving we have on display. When Corinne and I first moved into the parsonage – situated diagonally across the street -- back in the snowstorm of 1978, we had very little in the way of furniture or things to hang on the wall. One of the wonderful older members of our church, now no longer with us, for otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to tell this story, gave us this illustration of Daniel in the Lion’s Den. She was hoping that we would hang it in a proud and prominent place over one of the 8 fireplaces in the house, maybe over the fireplace in the dining room, she said. Now, if confession is good for the soul, allow me to say – after all these many years -- we never did comply with her wishes. We did hang it on a wall, up in the largely unoccupied 3rd floor of the building, but to be honest neither of us ever particularly relished the idea of sitting down for supper with Daniel and these hungry lions licking their chops and surveying their evening dinner. Nevertheless, the whole time we lived there, we were apprehensive that this delightful but rather feisty patron of the arts would come and see that “Daniel in the Lion’s Den” was nowhere to be seen. Now, in a larger sense, what we did with this illustration is rather typical of what the modern Christian church has done with so many of the old, old stories of our faith. As we will see and as many of you can attest, there are certain problems with many, if not all of these stories, and so rather than deal with them, figuratively speaking we tend to hide them away on the 3rd floor of our churches. Take for example the story of Adam and Eve. Which one of us really wants to believe that God would drive this family, this very first family out of the beautiful, idyllic Garden of Eden simply for eating an apple that they were told not to eat? By the way, recently I heard a wonderful and wonderfully short synopsis of this story: Adam blamed Eve and Eve blamed the snake, and the snake didn’t have a leg to stand on. Most, if not all, of these old stories raise more questions than they provide answers, which, by the way, may be part of their purpose, to get us to think about ourselves and our human predicament, to think and rethink our ancient verities, to reconsider our overly petrified theologies, to re-imagine our notions about what God is and what God is like. Take again the story of Adam and Eve. Why would God create human nature that is hardwired for failure? On the day that God created humanity, was that Day like a Monday in an automobile factory, a day for lemons? If God is indeed “all powerful”, why not create us for perfection? Why these flaws in our human nature? And furthermore, given the fact that we are not perfect, why would God not want Adam and Eve to eat of the Tree of Knowledge? Why would God, having created humanity in God’s image, why would God be “jealous”, as the bible says, of humanity’s aspirations to become more “God-like, to achieve knowledge and enlightenment?” Contrary to what you may have been taught by overly zealous defenders of the faith, such questions are not at all sacrilegious or an indication that your faith is somehow insufficient. To the contrary, this is the purpose of these stories, to get us to rethink some of our assumptions and perhaps move on to a more mature understanding of God. Furthermore, we need to understand that these old stories were not systematic theologies; neither were they part of a sort of “no-saint-left-behind” curriculum that put a major emphasis on rote learning. No, they were stories, stories told around a campfire, stories in an oral tradition that dated back centuries, stories in which ancient people tried to grapple with their spiritual and existential questions, stories in which wisdom was passed on from one generation to another. All of which I think not only sanctions but indeed encourages a more playful, a more imaginative reading of our bibles. Another question about these old stories, and this one particularly applies to those of you with small children or grandchildren. Given the violence in so many of these stories, at what age is it appropriate for them to learn these stories? I mean some of the stories are pretty gruesome – David and Goliath, the x-rated story of David and Bathsheba, the story of Cain slaying his brother Abel (a “lovely” little story for our children, especially those for whom sibling rivalry is an issue!) and what about the so-called quintessential children’s story – the story of Noah’s ark? We all love the playful image of a rickety old boat made out of gopher wood, a boat teeming with all sorts of animals, “all creatures great and small”, but after that, this story really should be r-rated for having a violent theology. While some might be tempted to shelter their children altogether from these stories – which may or may not be possible – we would do well to consider the wisdom of Bruno Bettelheim who in his book, The Uses of Enchantment, talks about the importance of stories and myth and fairy tale – some of which can be unbelievably “grim” (if you’ll excuse the pun.) This psychologist argues that this is how wisdom is passed on from one generation to another. This is how children come to terms with the perpetual struggle between life and death, goodness and evil; this is how they work their way through the vagaries of life, life’s challenges and uncertainties. This is how they find what Joseph Campbell called “The Hero with a Thousand Faces.” This is how they find the Hero, the Champion within themselves – through the activation and animation of the imagination that takes place in the telling and retelling of these old stories, however grim they may be. And so with these introductory notes, let’s take a look at the story of Daniel in the Lion’s Den. In talking about a story, it’s always tempting to say, “this story is all about…” but of course, stories are never “all about” one thing or another. That’s the beauty of our stories. They are like a multifaceted prism, having many different meanings, but regardless of what you know about this particular story, surely we all know what it’s like to be in that Lion’s Den. This picture says something about the human condition. How do we maintain our integrity, how do we keep our dignity, how do we keep from compromising on our principles even when we feel as if we’re surrounded by all these fierce and angry creatures? In his advice to his son, the poet Rudyard Kipling said, If you can keep your head
when all about you If you can trust yourself when all
men doubt you, Or, being lied about, don’t deal in
lies, You’ll be a man, my son. There are those I know for whom going to work everyday feels like a journey into the Lion’s Den. And not only our places of employment, but also all manner of volunteer activities, town boards and committees… these are all places in which people, more and more, feel as if they can, and not only can, but should give full vent to whatever their anger might be. Out on the highways of our nation, you can feel that almost palpable anger in the way people drive. It feels as if someone has opened up Pandora ’s Box (to speak of yet another old story) and the furies of anger have been let loose into the world. With all the purveyors of hate that we see on television and hear on the radio, it is as if this has given permission for all of us to raise the temperature of the debate and all too quickly to divide the world between us and them. And in reading these old stories, it’s ok to internalize them, and maybe find within ourselves both Daniel and those angry lions. I mean it’s easy to identify with Daniel in this story, but maybe we also ought to identify with the lions. How do we tame our own “hungry lions?” How do we become the “keepers of our own zoos?” How do we keep at bay our own terrible inclinations to “rip someone up to shreds” by the force of our arguments? How do we, like Daniel, have a calming influence on others, but also on our own all-too-human tendencies? So, that’s one angle on this story. There are those like Daniel who seem to have a quieting effect on others wherever they go. It’s not so much what they say or how they say it but rather the presence that they seem to exude. They have a way of defusing a volatile situation. And here is where I have to depart from the more “traditional” interpretation of this story. Traditionally, from my perspective, God is given too much credit and Daniel not enough. According to the usual Sunday School lesson. Daniel was a faithful man and so when the bad guys threw Daniel into the Lion’s Den, God from up there intervenes in the events down here by putting a muzzle on those lions. And so the next day, when the King found out that Daniel was not devoured, he rounded up all the bad guys and threw them into the Lion’s Den and of course they were devoured. A “Happy Ending!”. Let me be clear; I would not want any of our children to grow up thinking of this as some sort of “Happy Ending.” .. that God saved the life of Daniel, but did nothing to save the villains of this story. I tend to think God does God’s best work through the gifts of the human spirit, spiritual gifts that for many of us are largely unexplored, and so yes, I would like to give both God and Daniel credit for silencing, quieting, pacifying those lions. Just as there are horse whisperers who have an uncanny ability to calm a troubled stallion, isn’t it also possible that there are those who have a quieting presence wherever they go, even the lion’s den in all the multiplicity of places where that can be found, and the story of Daniel is the story of a “hero with a thousand faces”, a reminder that we too have the capacity to lower the temperature of the debate, we too have it within ourselves the capacity to quiet an angry mob, to restore order and civility to our public square, to defuse a potentially volatile situation; we too have the spiritual capacity wherever we are to be Lion Whisperers. I would be remiss, however, if I did not point out a lesson from the early part of this story, the reason why Daniel got thrown into that Lion’s Den in the first place. As you heard in our scripture lesson, there were those who were jealous of Daniel, those who wanted to discredit him, and so they passed a law saying that for one month, no one was allowed to pray to anyone except the King. They did this, knowing full well, what a devout and faithful man Daniel was. Let’s listen to the language of the story: When Daniel knew that the
law had been passed, I love the economy of words and I love the understated, matter-of-fact way in which this story is told. No histrionics, no melodrama; Daniel simply does what he has always done. Given the circumstances, he could have varied his routine a little bit. Think of it. Simply by closing the curtains, he could have avoided being seen. But praying and looking out his window toward his beloved Jerusalem, being close to God 3 times a day was more important to him even than his own safety. I would hope that this story might challenge us to question the strength, the tenacity, the courage of our own faith. I read this story and I ask myself, would I have the courage to keep those curtains open, no matter what; would I compromise on my faith and my principles just to keep myself from being seen? Am I willing to face the lion’s den, in whatever form that may take? Do I have the courage of my convictions? If someone told me there would be severe consequences if I kept on coming to church and offering my prayers and “speaking the truth as God has given me to see the truth”, to borrow the words of Abraham Lincoln, what would I do? Would I draw the curtains or try to build a firewall between my faith and the world; would I forsake the vision of a New Jerusalem? Such is the nature of these old, old stories, they force us to ask ourselves some tough questions. Amen.
David W. Good
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