“Hear this, those who trample the least of these and destroy those who suffer in this land. You, who say ‘When will the new moon be over so we can sell grain, the Sabbath so we can open our stalls and sell short to make more money? When will we be able to cheat people out of what little they have, buy the poor for silver and leave the destitute barefoot? When can we sell them the sweepings off the floor'” (Amos 8.5)?
Amos is exaggerating, of course. No one would actually say these things out loud. No one would be seriously wanting to reopen their shops, their stores in order to willfully cheat people. No one is out to drive their customers deep into debt. Certainly they wouldn’t want to participate in a system where people are so desperate and poor that they’re willing take whatever you had to sell them, even yesterdays crumbs.
They just want to get back to normal.
I’d bargain that many of the people who heard Amos’ words felt as though they weren’t targeted by them. They weren’t tramping on the poor or increasing the pain of the suffering. They simply had produce growing ripe on their shelves, bread that was only going to remain soft for a couple of days. All that stock cost money as did the people who swept the floors and restocked the aisles. Expenses, you know, don’t take a holiday.
The Sabbath was important, of course. God rested; so, we rest. I mean, it’s nice to have a morning to enjoy your coffee and maybe take a nap in the afternoon, but it’s hard not to think about all the things you’ll have to do tomorrow to catch up. It’s hard not to count the turns of the meter as the air conditioner, the fans in the coolers, the dormant registers all keep humming behind the locked doors.
And, you know, there are a lot of people who would like some ice cream, or a Coke on this hot afternoon.
Amos’ words are challenging the thinking that holy observances like the Sabbath are just about ritual observance. They aren’t, he dares to say, just a break from the norm, a demand that we step out of our routine. No, these days are a glimpse into the possible. They are about the way the world around us could be.
The prophet isn’t calling out specific statements he’s heard people making. He’s using hyperbole to shake his listeners, to help them see the reality of the normal to which they’ve grown accustomed. Amos wants to reintroduce us to the time outside of time of these holy moments that we might dare reconsider the reality with which they intersect.
He’s challenging his listeners, and us, to imagine a world like those of holy days and holidays. A world concerned with the value of who we are and not just what we do and can afford. He’s asking, as any child asks on a holiday, why can’t it be like that every day? Amos forces us to question why we see this intrusion of the possible as an annoyance rather than an opportunity?
So that we might ask why these days of Sabbath and sanctity can’t be the norm?
Help us dream of the world you dream of, the reality you imagine. Help us challenge what is normal in our lives.