2
Elijah made it clear: God does not tolerate the abuse of power. God will not condone the abuse
of the disadvantaged. Yahweh’s laws protect the poor and the weak. God will guard the rights of the
members of society who have no voice or are unable to exercise their human rights.
The story of Naboth, Ahab and Jezebel is a story of the delusions of privilege and status. It also
is a story of a crime against one of God’s people.
God knew that people like Naboth would risk losing their land to ones more powerful than they;
therefore, God decreed that land shall be held in perpetuity. But Jezebel and Ahab though they were
entitled to do as they pleased because Ahab was king. They were wrong.
God is Lord of our lives.
God has created a system whereby all people are treated justly.
On this Father’s Day, we would be wise to evaluate how God’s rule governs our homes, where
mothers and fathers order the lives of their children.
We have a saying – a man’s castle is his home – which implies that a man is king of the
household. Men, if you have claimed or been given such a role, remember the story of Ahab. Being
king – or women, being queen – does not mean we may do as we please. Running one’s home does
not mean all rules are made by the husband or wife, mother or father.
One’s home, ultimately, is in the reign of God, and God’s laws govern family behavior. This is
particularly true when there are children in the home.
God recognizes the vulnerability of little ones and gives instruction about the need to protect
children. Like Naboth, children are at a disadvantage in the family hierarchy. Their voices are small
when compared to the adults who rule over the household.
Jesus recognizes the vulnerability of children. That is why, one day, Christ took a child in his
arms and said, “Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to stumble, it would be
better for him if a great stone were hung round his neck and he were thrown into the sea.” (Mark 9:42)
In his essay, “Angry Fathers,” Mell Lazarus writes that his father embodied the essence of
Jesus’ message. (“Angry Fathers,” by Mell Lazarus, The New York Times Magazine, May 28, 1995,
p. 20)
Mell Lazarus recalls a time when he was a young boy on a family vacation. Listen to his
account of that summer:
It was August 1939, at a Catskill Mountains boarding house. One hot Friday afternoon
three of us – 9-year-old city boys – got to feeling listless. We’d done all the summer-country
stuff, caught all the frogs, picked the blueberries and shivered in enough icy river water. What
we needed, on this unbearably boring afternoon, was some action.
To consider the options, Artie, Eli and I holed up in the cool of the “casino,” the little
building in which the guests enjoyed their nightly bingo games and the occasional traveling
magic act.
Gradually, inspirations came: the casino was too new, the wood frame and white
Sheetrock walls too perfect. We would do it some quiet damage. Leave our anonymous mark on
the place, for all time. With, of course, no thought as to consequences.
We began by picking up a long, wooden bench, running with it like a battering ram, and
bashing it into a wall. It left a wonderful hole. But small. So we did it again. And again...
 |
 |
 |