Scripture Daily

Context No. 1684 of 4322 · Baruch

Context · Reflection

Baruch 6:53-59: in context

53For they can’t set up a king in a land or give rain to men. 54They can’t judge their own cause, or redress a wrong, being unable; for they are like crows between heaven and earth. 55For even when fire falls upon the house of gods of wood overlaid with gold or with silver, their priests will flee away, and escape, but they themselves will be burned apart like beams. 56Moreover they can’t withstand any king or enemies. How could a man then admit or think that they are gods? 57Those gods of wood overlaid with silver or with gold aren’t able to escape from thieves or robbers. 58The gold, silver, and garments with which they are clothed—those who are strong will take from them, and go away with them. They won’t be able to help themselves. 59Therefore it is better to be a king who shows his manhood, or else a vessel in a house profitable for whatever the owner needs, than such false gods—or even a door in a house, to keep the things safe that are in it, than such false gods; or better to be a pillar of wood in a palace than such false gods.

This passage, from the letter warning exiles against idolatry, piles up the helplessness of idols. They cannot set up a king or send rain; they cannot judge a case or right a wrong. When fire falls on their temple, their priests flee while the wooden gods burn like the beams they are. They cannot resist an enemy, nor save themselves from thieves who strip off their gold and garments. Better, the writer says, to be a useful pot, or a door that guards a house, or even a wooden pillar, than such false gods.

The argument is blunt and almost comic: these idols can do nothing. They cannot govern, cannot give rain, cannot judge, cannot even save themselves from fire or thieves. The gold that covers them is stolen by robbers, and the god stands by helpless while it is carried off. A humble clay pot is more use, for at least it holds water; a door is more use, for at least it guards the house; a wooden post is more use, for at least it holds up a roof. The idol, for all its gold and grandeur, does less than a doorpost. And the point cuts past ancient wooden statues to the idols of any age. We still pour devotion into things that cannot finally help us: money, which cannot buy back a life or a day; status, which cannot comfort us when we are alone; the images and reputations we build, which cannot save us from anything that matters. Like the gilded gods of the letter, our idols promise provision and protection and deliver neither; they cannot govern our lives well, cannot give what only God gives, cannot save themselves, let alone us. And the folly is the same: to bow to what cannot help, while neglecting the living God who actually acts, who gives rain and sets up kings and judges rightly and saves. The letter's mockery is meant to wake us up, to see the emptiness of what we serve in God's place, and to turn our devotion where it belongs, to the God who is not a helpless image but a living Lord who hears and acts. Better a useful pot than a false god; better still, the living God than any idol.

What am I pouring my devotion into that, like the gilded idols of this letter, promises much and can finally help me with nothing, and will the folly of trusting what cannot even save itself turn me back to the living God who actually acts, hears, and saves?

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