Commentary on Amos 1:1-2; 5:14-15, 21-24

The book of Amos confronts its readers with the harsh reality of a world where human injustice reigns. Victims and victimizers walk across the stage and sometimes switch roles. Human beings become commodities, and physical objects become gods. To stem the tide of cruelty, the book’s poetry evokes new worlds and provokes change.

The readings today come from two parts of the book: its opening (1:1–2) and the middle of its second section (chapters 3–6). Together, they portray an alternative to the chaos in Amos’s moment, and possibly ours. 

Amos opens as most prophetic works do, with a date notice and a reference to both the prophet’s social location (“among the shepherds”) and the connection between the book’s words and the prophetic work behind them. Amos “saw” the words, rather than “hearing” or “speaking” them. A close relationship exists among his visions (chapter 7), his poetic images, the act of uttering speeches, and the written text (which readers can now also “see”). The relationship among those elements fluctuates as the prophet’s many audiences through the millennia encounter the text bearing his name.

Immediately following this conventional opening comes the first and most decisive prophetic utterance, comparing Israel’s God to a lion. The lion is a complex symbol for God because that animal can be both predator and prey, and in both roles it symbolized kingship for Amos’s contemporaries. The divine king’s roar signals the taking of prey, as the prophetic words devour humans whether they hear them or not. Nature itself falls prey to the leonine speech of the prophet. The opening line of prophetic speech exposes the book’s words as disruptive speech that breaks oppressive systems without immediately providing alternatives. The audience must “see” the lion roaring, comprehend their own danger, and imagine new possibilities for a healthier communal life.

The next sections of the book systematically dismantle the political and economic systems of oppression that Amos sees. All those systems have religious roots nurtured by forgetfulness about past redemption and disregard for the present welfare of the other. The dismantling serves a higher purpose, however.

The book’s purposes, which the opening hints at, become clearer in chapter 5. Amos 5:14–15 builds out a contrasting pair: “Seek good, not evil … hate evil, and love good.” The complicated chiasmus of these verses calls for a shift, not just of practice but of affection. The desires of the heart must find new objects, with justice moving up the hierarchy of values. Performing “justice in the gates” means using the court system and the social capital underwriting it toward fitting ends. It also demands understanding the difference between good and evil in as absolute a sense as humans can. Justice is about more than process or results. It involves values, affections, sympathies, and commitments.

Verse 15’s “perhaps YHWH God of Hosts will show mercy” introduces hope amid uncertainty. Amos’s readers of every era would have preferred “surely” to “perhaps,” but the prophetic text must leave space for God’s free choice and the uniquely divine capacity for proper assessment of the human situation. No righteous action can rig the divine will in our favor, just as no evil action can shut the door to mercy for all time. 

The final part of this reading (Amos 5:21–24) recalls God’s freedom to accept or reject Israel’s religious acts for how well or badly they fit the rest of the people’s communal life. Sacrifices, festivals, and sanctuaries allow the community to say, “Thank you” or “Help!” or “We’re sorry,” all important human stances toward life. To reject all those words and, therefore, the people uttering them signals the final roar of the predatory lion. Israel’s God devours the people of the covenant by rejecting their means of communication with the divine realm.

The searing repudiation of the people’s religious life by its alleged honoree climaxes in verse 23’s command to “remove from me the racket of your singing, for I will not listen to the din of your harps.” YHWH’s refusal to attend even to the people’s most artistic expressions of longing and passion, not to mention protest or cries for help, signals the complete breakdown of the relationship between Israel and their erstwhile savior. The songs of lament and praise that would grace sacrifices and festivals must fall silent so that only the lion’s roaring can be heard. 

But then the dramatic solution, for all is not lost. Verse 24 hopes for, invites, commands—what is the right verb?—the people to “let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing waterway.” A path of escape from doom remains open. The community, dependent on its memory of redemption during the exodus, may travel that path. They may mend tears in the fabric of community by regarding each other as worthy recipients of divine mercy, as expressed in human practices of due process of law and the equitable distribution of basic resources. 

Though the hopefulness of the book of Amos becomes clear only in its final oracle (9:11–15), the book’s very existence points to a desire to preserve even its grimmest oracles of doom for the edification of succeeding generations. The diagnosis of catastrophe supplies a tonic for the survivors. They need not tread their ancestors’ path.

The proclamation of texts like Amos 1 and 5 should also restate their view that the criticism of oppressive leaders and systems provides hope for their victims. To see, acknowledge, and regard the suffering of those who lost their small farmsteads to greedy nobles, or toiled to pay off debts so that their creditors might enjoy luxuries, is the first step in remedying their situation. Even when the words do not lead to new programs or policies, they lead to an altered mental reality, and that, in time, leads to an altered external reality. Right attitudes, values, and actions lead to right structures. Or, to paraphrase Amos, the thunder of justice’s flood can silence the roaring lion. Preaching that lacks that concern cannot be faithful preaching, no matter how thoughtful or eloquent.

PRAYER OF THE DAY

God of all people,

Show us how to let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an every-flowing stream. Create justice and righteousness in us, that all may rejoice in your blessings. Amen.

HYMNS

Let justice flow like streams   ELW 717
Let streams of living justice   ELW 710
Glorious things of you are spoken   ELW 647

CHORAL

Justice, Rollo Dilworth