Lectionary Commentaries for June 28, 2026
Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

Commentary for this text is forthcoming.

How does God act in history? How can we discern God’s work in history? Conflict over the theological interpretation of God’s action in history appears in Scripture. The book of Jeremiah includes literary devices and vocabulary that highlight a relationship between the book of Jeremiah and earlier traditions of Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic History (Joshua–Kings). Among these chapters we find examples of prophetic conflict like Jeremiah 28:5–9.

Historical context

Jeremiah 28 arises from conflicts of the past and gives insight into how we might act faithfully today. Client states such as Judah had varying allegiances as empires (Assyrian, Egyptian, and Babylonian) shifted control. The priests and the prophets of Judah reflected the theological challenges of determining what was God’s will during this age of conflict. 

The horizon of empires changes; the book of Jeremiah frames the rise of the Babylonian Empire. The defeat of Egypt and the last vestiges of the Assyrian forces at Carchemish (605 BCE) mark the beginning of Babylonian rule. King Jehoiakim becomes a willing vassal of Babylon (604 BCE), until he is not. He revolts against Babylon in 601 BCE (see also 2 Kings 24:1). In 597 Jerusalem surrenders to the Babylonians. King Jehoiachin and other prominent Judahites are deported to Babylon. 

Nebuchadnezzar appoints Zedekiah king of Judah (597 BCE). He was the son of Josiah of Judah, who was a model of religious renewal. However, Zedekiah, like Jehoiakim, was loyal to Babylon, until he wasn’t. 

Genre

Throughout the Bible, priests and prophets are asked to interpret divine will amid human conflict. The result is conflict among prophets and priests in the Bible. The tradition models the priestly and prophetic theological framings of conflict between the Egyptians and the Hebrews, as Moses and Aaron confronted the magicians and priests of Egypt. Later these conflicts are depicted as competition between various prophets. 

The rule of monarchs depended on the priests and prophets who proclaimed divine support for the kings. Saul, David, and their predecessors depended on prophetic support. As the monarchy continued, so did prophetic and political conflict. Consider  Elijah and the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel (1 Kings 18:1–46), Elisha predicting victory over Moab (2 Kings 3), and the anointing of Jehu (2 Kings 9). Amos and Amaziah (Amos 7) argue about the rule of the king of Israel. Later Jesus confronts the Pharisees in the Gospels. Prophetic conflict accompanies a view that God governs human history. And prophets interpret God’s will. 

The conflict between Jeremiah and Hananiah presents the best case of a prophetic conflict with prophetic symbolic actions. Prophetic conflict grows not only out of the rhetorical situation. This narrative of prophetic conflict recognizes the rule and roles of the prophetic office that Jeremiah and Hananiah had inherited. 

Literary context

Jeremiah 28:5–9 is part of a larger context. The story of prophetic conflict Jeremiah 27–28 begins with is the introduction of the idea of the yoke of the king of Babylon.  Jeremiah starts this. God calls Jeremiah to make a yoke and put it on, representing the coming Babylonian rule (Jeremiah 27:1–2). Jeremiah 27–28 use synchronisms like those found in 1 and 2 Kings, using the regnal years of kings to date activities.

The passage begins with a transition from the previous section (Jeremiah 28:1–4) that includes a prediction that after a scant two years, the vessels looted from the Temple will be returned, as well as the leaders Jeconiah and Jehoiakim (Jeremiah 28:4). After Jeremiah 28:5–9, the prophetic conflict narrative concludes with the drama of the yokes and their destruction (Jeremiah 28:10–17). Hananiah dies. 

Close reading of Jeremiah 28:5–9

Jeremiah 28:5–9 contains two parts: a narrative introduction, and a speech of Jeremiah that includes descriptions of his opponent’s prophecy and a counter-prophecy. 

The introduction (verse 5) frames the passage as a “world” event takes place in public. The prophet speaks to his adversary Hananiah. The encounter is public. “In the presence of the priests and all the people” points to the public nature of the audience. The location is once again at “the house of the LORD.” The Temple figures prominently in the world events of the prophet Jeremiah. The so-called Temple sermon (Jeremiah 7:1–15; 26:1–6), like the prophetic conflict and symbolic action (Jeremiah 28:10 and following), takes place at the Temple of the Lord, a civic and theological center for the Jerusalem community. 

The speech of the prophet (verses 6–9) begins, “Amen! May the LORD do so; may the  LORD…” The phrase is likely an affirmation of the other speaker’s words. However, it could indicate a sarcastic tone before the counter-prediction by Jeremiah. 

The idea that “the vessels of the house of the LORD and all the exiles” would soon be returned to Jerusalem was an intense wish and the hope of most of the people. The desecration of the Temple had included the looting of the treasures and vessels of that building. Also note that the booty of war includes those kidnapped and taken to Babylon. The author creates a bond between the Temple treasures and the people. Some in Jerusalem and Judah, like Hananiah, thought Babylonia’s hegemony would be short-lived. Jeremiah would respond to this position in a letter to the exiles in Babylon (Jeremiah 29:1–32). 

Contrary words with a call to listen (verse 7): The passage turns with the word “but,” followed by the formula “listen now to this word that I speak in your hearing and in the hearing of all the people.” Jeremiah refers to a long prophetic tradition of announcing judgment (verse 8). However, validation of announcements of salvation occurs only “when the word of that prophet comes true”; indeed, “then it will be known that the LORD has truly sent the prophet.” Prophecy is more than a matter of opinion. False prophecy is idolatry (Jeremiah 23:25; Deuteronomy 13).

Key theological themes

The historical context seems quite distant from 21st-century people hearing a sermon, until they make the connection between the shifting of political powers that continues into today. Today’s listeners recognize the religious conflict of the present. The depiction of God’s action provides virtues of the faithful. Jeremiah’s prophetic message is public, painful, and in the context of the house of the Lord. 

The fourth and final lectionary reading, Genesis 22:1–14, in the Abraham saga is preceded by the banishment of Ishmael and Hagar (Genesis 21:8–14) and an unrelated episode about a dispute over wells between Abraham and a captain of King Abimelech in the land of the Philistines (Genesis 21:25–34). The opening transitional phrase, “After these things” (Genesis 22:1), or “And it came to pass,” denotes a passage of time. It also sets up yet another divine encounter between God and Abraham.

The narrator reveals that what came after these things was God putting Abraham to the test (Genesis 22:1). The reader is made aware of God’s plan before it is made known to Abraham. This passage is the only one in Genesis that mentions God testing an individual. God, however, was known to test Israel (for example, Exodus 15:25; 16:4). “Why test Abraham?” one might ask. If the test was intended to demonstrate the degree of Abraham’s faithfulness to God, might his willingness to cast out his son Ishmael have been proof enough?

God calls, “Abraham!” and with unquestioning obedience Abraham responds, “Here I am” (verse 1). God instructs Abraham to take Isaac and go to the land of Moriah—the second and final occurrence of the Hebrew phrase lekh lekha, literally translated as “go forth, yourself” (verse 2). The first occurrence of lekh lekha is in Genesis 12:1, where God commands Abraham (then called Abram) to leave his birthplace and kin behind for a place that God would show him. In Genesis 22:1, God again instructs him to go forth—but this time to take Isaac and offer him as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that God would show Abraham.

The stakes could not be higher. God commands Abraham to sacrifice not only the long-awaited promised heir to the covenant, but his “only son,” whom he loved (verse 2). As mentioned above, Isaac is not Abraham’s only son. The phrase “only son” can also be translated as “favored son.” Perhaps, in the absence of Ishmael, Isaac had become Abraham’s favored son. Either way, Isaac’s sacrifice would derail God’s promise to establish the covenant through Isaac to make Abraham a great nation (Genesis 17:19–21).

With unflinching dedication, Abraham rises early the next morning and sets out with two young servants, Isaac, and his donkey laden with the wood for the burnt offering, heading toward the place that God would show him (Genesis 22:3).

After a three-day journey, Abraham sights the place. He orders the servants to remain behind with the donkey, explaining that he and Isaac will continue alone to worship and that they will return afterward (verses 4–5). The passage of time implied in the opening verse suggests that Isaac would now be an adolescent. The same term, na’ar (boy), that God used for Ishmael in Genesis 21 is used for the two servants (Genesis 22:3, 5) and for Isaac (verse 5). Thus, he would have been old enough to be trained in how to sacrifice to God in worship.

Inviting comparison with Genesis 21:14, just as Abraham placed provisions and young Ishmael on Hagar’s shoulders, Abraham places the wood for the burnt offering on Isaac’s shoulders, while he himself carries the fire and the knife (verse 6). After a while, Isaac’s familiarity with making a burnt offering to God leads him to ask where the lamb for sacrifice is (verse 7). Abraham responds that God will see to the lamb for the burnt offering (verse 8). And they walk on.

When they arrive at the place where God has told Abraham to go, Abraham builds the altar, places the wood atop it, binds Isaac, and lays him on the wood (verse 9). This passage is known in Jewish tradition as the Akedah—the “binding of Isaac.” Isaac acquiesces without protest. Did Isaac have knowledge that child sacrifice was an acceptable practice in worshipping God? 

Abraham picks up the knife and extends his arm to kill Isaac, but a divine messenger calls out to him from heaven (verse 10). Abraham answers, “Here I am” (verse 11), just as he did when God called to him in verse 1 (see also verse 7, in response to Isaac). The messenger commands Abraham to refrain from harming Isaac, for he has demonstrated that he fears God through his complete obedience (verse 12).

Abraham looks away from Isaac and sees a ram caught in a thicket by its horns. He retrieves the ram and slaughters it, offering it as a burnt offering in place of Isaac (verse 13). Abraham names the place “The LORD will provide,” which is literally “The LORD will see” (verse 14), a play on Abraham’s response to Isaac in verse 8. There is an editorial addition that to this day, the place was called “On the mount of the LORD it shall be provided,” or “On the mount he shall be seen.”

The transliteration “Jehovah Jireh” for the Hebrew Yhwh Yireh is popular in certain Christian communities as a name for God, meaning “The Lord my provider” rather than a place name. This interpretation misses the intertextual relationship of the verb “to see” in Hebrew between God’s seeing in Genesis 16:13–16 and in Genesis 22:14. Hagar names God “El Roi”—“God who sees”—after her divine encounter in the wilderness (Genesis 16:13), and she names the well where God met her “Beer-lahai-roi” (“Well of the Living One who sees me”). Abraham names the place where he encounters God “The LORD will see [to it].” In each instance, God’s seeing provides rescue for Abraham’s sons. 

Isaac replaces Ishmael as the favored son, yet the abjection of Ishmael does not erase him from the final chapter of the Abraham saga. Ishmael’s presence reverberates throughout Genesis 22:1–14, suggesting that he found favor with the biblical writers.

At the heart of Psalm 89 is the shattering of the world, to which the psalm gives articulation and to whose unraveling the entire Psalter is devoted.¹

And the proper interpretation of Psalm 89, arguably of the entire Psalter, and even of the Christian hope in Christ Jesus rests, in part, on the full appreciation of this trauma: The faithful and mighty God (89:1–2), who made an eternal covenant with David (89:3–4), has renounced that covenant (89:39) and hidden himself (89:46).

God and king

Psalm 89 celebrates God’s love and faithfulness (89:1–2) and, equally, God’s election of David—the divine promise to establish his kingdom forever (89:3–4)—and these two constitute the foundational facts on which the cosmos, according to our psalm, rests. For God “rules the raging of the sea” (89:9, New Revised Standard Version) and “crushed Rahab like a carcass” (89:10) to ensure that forces of chaos and death do not again return to earth; and David shares in God’s cosmic authority over evil, which God gave him, saying: “I will set his hand on the sea and his right hand on the rivers” (89:25).

The embedded diarchy of God and David, anchored in the love and faithfulness of the one God, ensures the endurance of David’s throne and, what’s more, the flourishing of the world. Because the God who made a covenant with David loves and is faithful, David’s throne stands secure forever. And because God and David reign together in might, all is right in the world.

The shattering of the world

The events of 587 BCE shatter the world in which God and king are in control. In 587, as is well known, the Babylonians destroyed the House of God, put a violent end to the House of David, and devastated the people. The final third of Psalm 89 (89:38–51) laments this catastrophe and raises pointed questions concerning the theological and political foundations on which the world supposedly rests.

Psalm 89:38–51, at first blush, appears to focus on the relationship between God and David: “But now you have spurned and rejected him; you are full of wrath against your anointed” (89:38; see also 89:39–45, 49–51). But we misread the psalm if we focus only on the God-David connection. David is a cipher for the orderliness of historical existence in toto and the earthly representative of God’s cosmic sovereignty.

God’s rejection of David points to the divine betrayal of creation, and the demise of David’s kingship suggests a like end to God’s kingship. In short, the experience of death and chaos—in the case of Psalm 89, of 587 and afterward—places under question the validity of the theological claim that God loves, is faithful, and rules over creation in power, for the final authority. Hence, the ultimate responsibility for life and order rests with God.

How long, O LORD? Will you hide yourself forever?
How long will your wrath burn like fire? (89:46)

After trauma

The psalm provides no easy answer to the difficult questions it raises. Rather, the trauma of 587 is allowed to rupture the very structure of the psalm. Consider the chasm that separates verse 37 from verse 38. Furthermore, as the conclusion of Book III of the Psalter, Psalm 89 also represents a rupture in the book of Psalms, around which the entire Psalter turns. That is to say, the shattering of the world at the heart of Psalm 89 is the trauma at the core of the Psalter itself.

Psalm 89 presents the trauma and, in response, offers no resolution. More fittingly, it raises the darkest of theological questions. From within the tragedy of exile, the psalmist cannot see God and complains: “Will you hide yourself forever?” (89:46a). And, in conclusion, he seems to give himself over to despair: “Who can escape the power of Sheol?” (89:51b). Psalm 89 does not provide an answer to its own questions. Rather, it recognizes the reality and power of trauma and remains, as so many victims of traumatic events are, mute and utterly confounded.

Now, though no immediate resolution to the experience of trauma can be found in Psalm 89, that is not to say there is no engagement or effort to respond. No, the entire Psalter, at some level, is an effort to respond to the theological crisis of 587.

As has been noted by many commentators, Books I–III of the Psalter (Psalms 1–89) can be read as recounting the rise and fall of the Davidic monarchy. In brief, Psalm 2 represents the divine adoption of David’s household and the beginning of the Davidic monarchy as God’s chosen representative on earth. Many subsequent psalms, by means of their superscriptions, reference events in David’s life as recounted in Samuel. For example, Psalm 18 refers to David’s escape from Saul’s murderous intent, and Psalm 51 to David’s adultery with Bathsheba. Palm 72, which concludes Book II, marks perhaps David’s dying prayer for Solomon. Even after the death of David, a son of David continues to occupy the throne.

Now, as we discussed, Psalm 89 references the end of the Davidic monarchy and, simultaneously, raises a theological question: Does the end of the Davidic kingship signify the end of the kingship of God, who guaranteed that David would be king forever? God bound divine kingship to human kingship in an eternal covenant. So does God share in the shameful fate of the human king?

Books IV–V (Psalm 90–150) provide a complex response to the theological crisis raised by Psalm 89. The response, in broad strokes, is twofold: 

1. Books IV–V emphasize that God was, is, and will be king forever. This response can be seen most clearly in Psalms 93–100, the “Yhwh is king” psalms, so-called because of the repeated claim: “Yhwh is king” (93:1; 96:10; 97:1; 99:1; cf. 95:3; 98:6; 99:4). These psalms claim that, even after the demise of the Davidic monarchy, God remains king.
2. David is not again referred to as “king” in Books IV–V. The implication is that David’s kingship can and did come to an end in 587, independent of God’s kingship. David, it should be noted, does reappear in Books IV–V, beginning in Psalm 101, right after the “Yhwh is king” psalms (Psalms 101, 103, 108–110, 138–145). He appears, however, not as king, but as cantor. He no longer leads the army into battle but, rather, the faithful throng in praise of God the King. Thus, David declares, “I will sing of loyalty and justice; to you, O LORD, I will sing” (101:1), and “I will exalt you, my God, the King” (145:1a, my translation).

In sum, the trauma of Psalm 89, which is the trauma of the Psalter, requires the deployment of the resources of all the psalms to resolve. This speaks to the seriousness of trauma, especially of the trauma of 587, which shook the core of Israel’s sense of self, history, and God. And the seriousness with which the psalmic tradition handles trauma advises us not to look for easy answers to life’s deep problems and encourages, rather, patience and humility. It advises hope in God, who is, was, and will be king.

Christ the King

For Christian readers of the Psalm, it should be noted that the New Testament writers found a related but distinct resolution to the problem Psalm 89 raises, the link between divine and human kingship and its subsequent rupture. In conversation with other early Jewish traditions, the New Testament writers proclaim, on various occasions, that Christ Jesus is the Davidic king (see, for example, Acts 2:29–36; Romans 1:3). The Davidic king who was elected and rejected endures in Christ Jesus, who himself was rejected unto death, to rise on the third day. Thus, the church too can sing:

I will sing of your steadfast love, O LORD, forever;
With my mouth I will proclaim your faithfulness to all generations. (89:1)

Notes

1. Commentary previously published on this website for July 2, 2017.

With last week’s commentary, we began looking at a potential four-week sermon series on theological understandings of sin from Romans 6–8.

Paul is continuing to address the situation of the Roman church, in which gentiles (non-Jews) were wondering whether they had to be circumcised and otherwise follow the Law in the Torah in order to follow Christ. Paul says no, but that does not mean that gentiles are free to sin.

What does Paul mean by “sin” in this text?

In last week’s passage from the first 11 verses of Romans 6, Paul describes baptism as a way of connecting our new identity in Christ with how we should live: Because we have been baptized with Christ, we have died to sin, and we are raised to the new life that Christ has enabled us to live. Sin is something we have died to, and now through baptism, we have a new way of living.

This week’s reading connects sin with slavery and death, encouraging Christ-followers to become slaves to righteousness, or right living, rather than to sin.

The reason we should not be slaves to sin, Paul says, is that sin leads to death.

We have in verse 23 one of the texts often used in the “Roman Road,” a set of biblical passages used to share the gospel and try to convert another person to Christianity. If you are not familiar with this “Roman Road,” it begins with Romans 3:23, “All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God,” and then continues with this passage in 6:23, “The wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” I have seen it shared in pamphlet form with an infographic of a person standing on one cliff edge, unable to cross to the other cliff, which represents God. The gap between cliffs is sin, and what enables the person to cross over is, literally, the cross.

But when used in a manipulative way, such as telling someone they will go to hell if they don’t believe in Jesus, this “Roman Road” is merely a dead-end alley where someone is waiting with a bully club.

Talk of sin should lead to life-giving good news; if it doesn’t, it’s not the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Unfortunately, many people may have experienced one too many conversations in which someone has called them a sinner, so any talk of sin is an instant turn-off. If anyone has ever directed the non-biblical line “Love the sinner, hate the sin” toward you, then you may feel a natural resistance to any kind of sin-talk.

If you are in a denomination that includes a prayer of confession in worship, there is a chance that someone visited your church once and never came back, because they did not like having to confess sins they did not feel responsible for (I have heard this anecdote repeated from two different church pastors after they followed up with one-time visitors).

The reason some churches have corporate (all together) prayers of confession is to name the reality of sin in our lives and receive forgiveness, as part of our worship experience. This relies on an understanding of sin as being bigger than individual acts or moral failings—sin is, rather, the broken state of the world.

Sin is the reality that there are many things that distance humanity from God and one another: things we do on purpose, things we fail to do, as well as larger social realities that reveal the brokenness of the human situation.

Paul speaks here of sin being a kind of slavery, and a kind of death.

How might listeners understand sin as slavery today?

Again, language may create obstacles. Because of the terrible history of human slavery, talking about slavery as a metaphor may feel very off-putting and insensitive. Knowing your congregation will help you discern whether talking about sin as slavery would lead to fruitful conversations on the one hand, or hurt feelings on the other.

But if your congregation feels comfortable using Paul’s metaphor of sin as a kind of slavery, what examples of sin exist for us to talk about? In my book Preaching about Racism, I have a chapter on connecting traditional language of sin such as idolatry, estrangement, and bondage (slavery) to help us understand the ongoing impact of racism.¹

For instance, you may not intentionally hold biases against particular groups of people, but when a person from that group is put up for promotion or to be hired at your organization, maybe you are more hesitant to support them than someone from a background similar to yours. Many of these reactions are subconscious, so they are harder to see in ourselves as racism.

Sin can also be seen in larger systems—things not attributable to one person individually or even to a group of people, but rather to a series of traditions, rules, laws, expectations, cultural attitudes, and financial investments (and lack thereof).

For instance, look at the way our society treats mental illness. Historically, people with mental illness were often judged to be the way they were as a result of sin. While people who are struggling with mental illness can commit crimes, this is by far a small minority of people with mental illness. Still, our society continues to stigmatize mental illness, viewing people through a negative lens, when such people deserve compassion.

But lack of compassion is not the least of the sins committed by our society regarding the mentally ill. The history of abusive psychiatric facilities led to a great defunding of most public mental health services, and with many states not accepting federal Medicaid extensions, these public services are becoming even more scarce. If a person needs help today, they may go to a hospital, only to be turned away because there is no psychiatric bed available. If a person commits a crime during an episode of mental illness, police can commit the person to a psychiatric institution against their wishes, but again, if there are no beds available, the person is often just released back to the streets with no support.

This example of sin is not an easy target of blame. The patterns of defunding public health care services are political in nature, so are voters who support these politicians the sinners? The politicians themselves? The police officers involved? The community who stigmatizes the person who needs help?

Human brokenness and the larger systems we are a part of point to a web of sin in which we are caught. And yet, though we have been “slaves to sin,” Paul declares that we have been set free. Part of our work of sanctification, or the work we do as we live as new creatures in Christ, may be to help others be set free from the systems that continue to bind, as well as to pray for God to free us and to help us see where we can make a difference.

Notes

1. Carolyn B. Helsel, Preaching about Racism: A Guide for Faith Leaders (St. Louis, MO: Chalice Press, 2018).