Trinity 15 2025 West Malling
Jeremiah 32.1,3a,6-15, Luke 16.19-31
I wonder what you made of our first reading today, from the prophet Jeremiah. If the answer is ‘not a lot’, I don’t suppose you are alone. Hanamel, Baruch, and all the rest of those names the poor reader had to cope with – who are they? Where’s Anathoth? What on earth is going on, and why should we care? And all that talk of buying and selling… It sounds like the record of a particularly dull day at a conveyancer’s office and in a way, that’s exactly what it is. But it’s well worth exploring, because actually it’s a profound story about hope, and we could all do with a bit of that at the moment.
It was the tenth year of the reign of Zedekiah, king of Judah, Jeremiah tells us, and the eighteenth year of the reign of Nebuchadrezzar, king of Babylon. That’s a bit like saying it was 1939 or 1940 to us – a time of foreboding, a time when it was clear that trouble lay ahead. Jerusalem, the capital of Judah was already being besieged by the mighty Babylonian. They had conquered large swathes of the Middle East, and little Judah was next. Only a fool could fail to see it, but, sadly, King Zedekiah was that fool. He was so convinced that it would all be fine – or so scared to admit that it might not be - that when Jeremiah warned him that disaster was coming, Zedekiah had him imprisoned. All that defeatist talk was bad for morale – better to shut him up than listen to him.
Jeremiah couldn’t do anything to change the king’s mind, any more than we are likely to be able to change the minds of leaders today who seem hell-bent on leading us into war and climate catastrophe. But God’s message to Jeremiah, and to us through him, is that it’s not just leaders who make a difference, who have the power to create and destroy hope. It’s down to all of us. And that’s where the rather convoluted story about buying and selling of land – that dull day at the conveyancer’s office – comes in.
Jeremiah’s cousin, Hanamel, is selling a field, at Anathoth, Jeremiah’s home town, the place where his extended family had lived for many generations - just an ordinary field. It might have grown wheat or olives, or provided grazing for livestock. But now Hanamel wants rid of it.
Why?
The most likely explanation is that he’s trying to liquidate his assets. What use is this field going to be when the marauding Babylonian Army sweeps in and takes all the land for itself? King Zedekiah might not be prepared to accept that his nation is going to be conquered, but it must have been pretty obvious to everyone else.
But who’s going to want to buy land with an invasion looming? Nobody with any sense, you’d think. Step forward, Jeremiah… As Hanamel’s cousin, according to ancient Jewish law, Jeremiah has first right of refusal on this land. Hanamel probably doesn’t think he’ll want it, but he has to ask anyway, and to his surprise, Jeremiah leaps at the chance – God has told him this would happen. Quick as a flash he rustles up seventeen shekels of silver – a fair price, scholars think. He’s not trying to get a bargain. He finds witnesses, has a proper, legal deed drawn up and makes sure everyone sees him make the transaction – he’s still in prison, in “the court of the guard” so there are plenty of people around. Then he gives the deeds to Baruch, his scribe and tells him to put them in an earthenware jar, to keep them safe “so that they may last for a long time”. They will need to, because when the Babylonians conquer the land, they will send the inhabitants into an exile which will last over 70 years.
It’s very unlikely Jeremiah ever got to farm that field himself. He may never have seen it at all. He seems to have been taken to Egypt when Jerusalem fell, and would have been long dead by the time the occupation ended. And he must have known that. But he still bought the field. “This won’t last for ever”, he is saying, “Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel; Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land.” God hasn’t finished with his people.
Buying a field may seem like a small, mundane act, but it isn’t just a land deal; it’s a statement of faith in the future, faith that there will be a future. It’s a declaration of hope, and of trust in the God who enables Jeremiah to hold onto that hope. It is a small action with a big meaning.
Small actions are at the heart of Jesus’ parable in the Gospel reading too. Lazarus, the beggar at the rich man’s gate, would have been content with the scraps that fell from his table. He wasn’t asking for much. But the rich man wouldn’t even give him that. Like King Zedekiah, he doesn’t seem to want to see what – or who - was right in front of his eyes, right under his feet in fact as he went in and out of his gates.
Why? Perhaps because if he saw Lazarus, if he got to know him, he might also see himself more clearly, his own selfishness and greed. Things might change, and who knew where that might end? But not doing anything, refusing to do those small acts of kindness, turns out to have consequences that are just as profound for him - and not in a good way.
This story, very much in the form of a folk-tale, isn’t meant to provide a systematic theology of the afterlife, by the way. Essentially, it’s satire. It’s larger than life. What we do matters, says Jesus, even, or perhaps especially, the small things. As Mother Theresa once said “Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.” What we do, day by day, may seem insignificant to us, but it can make a huge difference to others.
For Jeremiah it was buying a field. For the rich man it was – or could have been - taking notice of Lazarus at his gates. For us it might be listening to someone who is different from us, learning about their lives, rather than leaping to judgement on them. It might be getting involved in our local community, rather than just moaning about it. It might be thinking more carefully about what we buy, and who made it and whether they were treated fairly. It might be as simple as saying hello to a neighbour, having a chat with someone we pass in the street – we may be the only person they talk to that day. All of these things, and so many others, however simple they seem, plant seeds of kindness for the future. They are our statement of faith that goodness is indestructible. We may never see what those seeds grow into, but if we don’t plant them, they won’t grow into anything.
It’s so easy to feel hopeless about the world, to feel that the challenges are too big for us, and to switch off. But God’s message to us is the same as it was to Jeremiah. He hasn’t finished with us or with the rest of his creation. He isn’t defeated by the evil in the world, any more than he was defeated by the crucifixion of his son. Death and despair don’t have the last word. Life and hope do, because God hasn’t stopped loving us. And he hasn’t stopped calling each of us either, not to do great things in most cases, but to do small things with great love – or as much love as we can muster – to do the things that are at our own gates, under our own noses. That’s where hope lies for the future. That’s what changes the world.
Amen.
