Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood
First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS
Hosea 1:2-10 and Colossians 2:6-12
July 24, 2022
What I’m about to say may shock you:
Sometimes religious leaders get it wrong.
Very, very wrong.
Chances are good you may have let that little gem of a text from the prophet Hosea whoosh right past your years. For starters, it’s absolutely bizarre and hard to understand what’s going on. For seconders, it’s not a passage you hear very often. For thirders, once you do get a sense of what’s going on it gets even weirder.
And more troubling.
I don’t think I’ve ever preached on this text before, actually. Because it’s so deeply problematic that it’s hard to do justice in one conversation. But we’re going to try today. So buckle up, this might be a very strange ride.
In seminary, we learned that when interrogating the Biblical text for the sermon, at some point the preacher has to decide if we’re preaching with the text, for the text, or against the text. Most sermons I preach are with the text. The text generally doesn’t offend our sensibilities, and we’re just coming alongside it, seeing what this ancient word has to offer us today. Sometimes the text makes us very uncomfortable but it contains deep, challenging truths we need to hear with open hearts. When that happens, the preacher’s job is to preach for the text.
But SOMETIMES the text is simply so problematic that it feels unfaithful to our understanding of God. What are these texts doing in the Bible? Well, if we understand the Bible as the collective ponderings of ancient people who struggled, just like us, to understand something un-understandable, then it makes sense that there will be contradictions and troublesome texts. Imperfect humans also canonized these texts into our holy scriptures. Through prayer and discernment, they selected scriptures useful for our learning and growth. But useful for learning doesn’t mean we’ll always read them and affirm them. Sometimes it means we have to struggle with them and scratch our heads.
Back when I was a Methodist, I was deeply grateful for something called the Wesleyan Quadrilateral. Albert Outler studied John Wesley’s writings and found that he had four sources undergirding his theology: scripture, tradition, reason, and experience. Now, in Wesley’s understanding scripture was absolutely primary and the other three had to fall into line with it.
But I’ve also heard people describe these four sources as more like four legs holding up a table. When tradition teaches something, we hold it up against scripture, reason, and experience to see if it rings true. When scripture teaches, we hold it up against the other three to see if it is consistent. And so on.
Engaging every tool at our disposal seems like a wise choice for wading into Hosea. First of all, what on earth is even going on here? Hosea was an 8th century BCE prophet, particularly concerned by Israel getting too chummy with neighboring nations and worshiping other gods. In a bizarre-even-for-the-Bible turn of events, Hosea’s very life became a teachable moment. The story goes that he married a woman named Gomer who is described by a Hebrew word variously translated as adulterous, prostitute, unfaithful, and some other words I won’t say here now. Their marriage is meant to be a symbol for God’s relationship with Israel. Gomer is described as unfaithful because Hosea is trying to tell the people that they’ve been unfaithful to God. I told you this was weird.
It gets weirder. Hosea and Gomer give birth to several children, each given a name that further symbolizes God’s distaste for Israel’s behaviors. The children are meant to serve as a visible warning to Israel to get their act together or God will turn away from them completely and disown them.
Now there’s plenty of God-smiting language throughout the Bible but I think the thing that bothers me the most about the Book of Hosea is the up-and-down, back-and-forth, gaslighting version of God depicted here. Because side-by-side with this angry, vengeful God we have beautiful passages like Hosea 11 where God is described as a tender, loving parent, caring for and protecting the people as a gentle parent cares for a baby.
It’s enough to give you whiplash. Reading the whole book at once, I’m left with an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach because God here reminds me of an abusive spouse. Threatening and violating and then making you feel like you should be grateful because he’s decided to spare your life and not kill you after all. Bringing flowers after blowing up. It’s impossible to take the flowers in chapter 11 at face-value when there’s still a hole punched in the wall from chapters 1 and 2, you know?
To say nothing of the deeply problematic nature of comparing idolatry to marital infidelity. And painting Gomer as a terrible sinner because of her sexual activity. And then using her body as an incubator for children that are props meant to teach everyone a lesson. And then threatening to strip her naked and kill her because of her unfaithfulness.
It’s just absolutely horrific. And in my mind there’s no preaching with it or preaching for it. I can only sit here and say, “This is not the God I know, Hosea. It’s just not.”
It’s possible to read Hosea and come away with a focus on the beauty of God’s unfailing love as described in Chapter 11. Which is, by the way, absolutely poetic. So perhaps the author’s overall point is that God is merciful and gracious and loving. But I just can’t stomach it with all the violence that comes earlier. It doesn’t square with the God I’ve come to know through our shared tradition, the gift of reasoning, or our experience of God.
In Colossians we are urged to seek Christ as our ultimate plumb line. The author of that letter says that we are to “continue to live our lives in [Christ], rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving. See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition.”
When we hear testimony about God that doesn’t sit with us, we’re not supposed to just accept it at face value. We’re supposed to hold it up into the light of Christ to see if it holds true. Far too often, Christians have made claims they say are backed by religious authority when, in reality, it’s just our own human traditions getting in the way.
You can see this so clearly with today’s arguments about abortion. The Bible is almost silent on the topic. We know that abortion was practiced regularly in ancient times but our scriptures don’t prohibit it. Jesus spoke out about all kinds of behaviors - cheating the poor, judging others harshly, being inhospitable to strangers - but he said nothing about abortion at all. Instead, he lived his whole life pointing towards God’s love - especially God's love and care for the marginalized. Jesus, again and again, trusted the women he encountered. He looked at those who had been stomped on by the elites of his day and affirmed them. I have to imagine that if he had met Hosea’s wife, Gomer, he would have sheltered her, listened to her, loved her.
Please note that this is NOT to say that Jesus somehow got it right while the First Testament scriptures got it wrong. I could go on and on about places in the First Testament that point to a loving God, full of grace and care. It’s not an “Old Testament vs New Testament” thing.
Hosea is a cautionary tale for me. It’s a reminder of why we aren’t meant to read the Bible alone. It’s a book that was written in community and meant to be read in community. Whether that’s consulting commentaries and teachers, listening to podcasts, or just talking with friends around the Bible study table - the Bible is a social book. It’s meant to be chewed on, turned over and over in the light, interrogated. Over and over we are invited to look at these ancient stories seeking truth. Not because the words themselves are inerrant but because we believe there’s truth to be found here by gathering ‘round these stories and mining for the Holy. Together.
Now how do we know we’re right about this and the Biblical literalists are wrong? I guess we don’t, not really. Faith means that we stay humble. Always open to learning, growing. Always a bit unsure about all the particulars, even as we cling to the one or two things that feel like our non-negotiables. For me, the overarching story of God’s love for all people and creation and the absolute commitment to those who are oppressed means that Hosea misses the mark. I may feel differently the next time I preach on this text. Or I might not.
It’s good to worship a God who is big enough for our uncertainties.
It’s good to have texts sturdy enough to handle all our interrogations.
It’s good to explore faith alongside a community that values our questions.
It’s good to be held within the love of our Stillspeaking God.
Amen.
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