Do Not Decrease
By Andrew Sheppard
Year C, Proper 23 (28)
As the election cycles continue in their contrived rhythms and barrage our eyes and ears with ceaseless words and images of Bad News, a clear hierarchy begins to emerge, despite what might have been said in civics and social studies classes about the importance of state-level politics. Aside from the local political ad interrupting the Sunday afternoon football game, the lion’s share of electoral gravity and energy is around the presidential election during those cycles, and national congressional elections on the off-cycles. For those brave enough or careless enough to ask socially who someone is “voting for,” the implied vote is that of the president, without that ever being explicitly stated.
Messaging from the various news sites and social media accounts would have us believe that each national election is in some way more critical than the last, and that, somehow, THIS election is the one that is going to affect YOUR life the most. Meanwhile, state and local elections are essentially ignored until each voter is overwhelmed by the sea of flimsy yard signs that suggest a vote for a certain candidate is merited based on nothing more than a name and an attractive graphic design and color scheme. This imbalance is perhaps to be expected, given the massive disparity of campaign spending at each level, but it ought not necessarily dictate how the people of a place relate to the governing structures around them. When dissatisfied with top-level decision making, the most attractive way forward is one of resignation and comfort in that, as the drum beats on, another election will come, and the next time it might be different.
It is clear that God has no place for such resignation in the collective life of the people of Israel. The prophet Jeremiah writes to an exiled people in an unfamiliar place where, needless to say, the national leadership is not going to be of any help. And rather than contribute to the expected attitude of “we just have to wait this out til the next cycle,” God’s good word to this community in exile is to remember that they are just that: a community. That their identity need not be dictated by the far-off structure of national rule. God is reminding God’s people what they’ve always known but often forget; that the goodness and richness of their life together under God’s guiding hand and steadfast love is not affected by adverse political conditions, even at this extreme level. Jeremiah’s letter to the exiles is, in essence, an invitation. It’s an invitation to trust, an invitation to remain, an invitation to bear witness to belonging within a structure that precludes belonging.
Specifically, the instructions Jeremiah gives to the exiles can be summed up with the last words of verse 6: do not decrease. Of course, on its face this seems clearly an instruction on bearing children, but we know well that it doesn’t stop there. The situation that the exiles find themselves in certainly encourages rationing in nearly every aspect of life. When at odds with the larger structures that cast heavy and lengthy shadows, it is almost natural to make plans to decrease, to shy away, to wait until conditions are more favorable. But the truest act of resistance is seeking the welfare of the city, recognizing how the well-being of one is bound up with the well-being of another, and both with the well-being of the community.
So often we talk about theologies of abundance without recognizing that those often must come from places where scarcity is the expectation. True abundance in the Kingdom of God is a subversive act, necessarily beginning in places where abundance is unimaginable or unwise. In fact, this kind of abundance may still seem puny next to the structures of power that surround them. The scales are often that out of balance. But the invitation God makes to God’s people is not to match the powers at hand. It is, instead, to live fully in the place they find themselves, and to seek God’s wisdom and guidance in the project of life together.
Friends, when God calls us to live as strangers, His goal is not to test or punish or deploy us as pawns in an eternal scheme, or to show off His power. Our dwelling in places of disorientation are instead places where God can reveal God’s goodness in clear, new, and surprising ways. If we have the courage to not decrease, we will find a God who heals, a God who sustains, a God who loves, and an invitation to participate in the same.