Since October 7, there has been a marked rise in anti-Jewish sentiment in our country. The appeal of Hamas has metastasized. (Although there has also been a sustained denial of the vicious and inhuman tactics perpetrated by that group.) Of course, this antipathy toward the Jews is nothing new, but its ugly face is being reared in an especially virulent way.
But again, it is nothing new.
Last year, the Chabad Jewish Center in Pensacola, Florida was vandalized by a brick thrown through a window. It was painted with swastikas and an antisemitic slur. Rabbi Mendel Danow was shocked and at first wanted to move on as quickly as possible. However, news spread through the Jewish community and through Pensacola at large.
The rabbi might well have said to the Lord, “We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.”
So what was the result? (Stay tuned!)
Let’s consider King Jehoshaphat of Judah, who reigned in the 9th century BCE. In 2 Chronicles 20, war is being forced upon him and his land. Moabites, Ammonites, and “some of the Meunites” are on the way.
Understanding that a multitude is approaching, one with bad intent, Jehoshaphat is rightly concerned. No, he is rightly terrified. He summons leaders from throughout the land and he lays it all out before them.
They look around. They are few, but their enemies are many. They don’t have the strength to stand against them. What are they to do? The king sees but one option. Military might won’t save them. The power of horse and sword will not avail. Jehoshaphat calls the people to prayer. As we’re told, “he set himself to seek the Lord, and proclaimed a fast throughout all Judah” (v. 3).
He acknowledges how God has protected them in the past. A sanctuary was built to honor the Lord. Jehoshaphat prays, “If disaster comes upon us, the sword, judgment, or pestilence, or famine, we will stand before this house, and before you, for your name is in this house, and cry to you in our distress, and you will hear and save” (v. 9).
He ends his prayer by admitting their futility, “we are powerless against this great multitude that is coming against us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you” (v. 12).
We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.
In his book on Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Eric Metaxas tells us, “In May 1932, a few months before Hitler came to power,” Bonhoeffer preached a sermon using that verse as his scripture reading. “This text was on his mind a long time before and a long time since.” (538)
Bonhoeffer came from a family that was well-to-do, one that was cultured. His family held to the best of German tradition. However, the emergence of the Nazis was seen by them as a disaster and as a disgrace for the nation. They viewed the whole thing with disgust.
[Bonhoeffer in serious thought. (Courtesy of NightCafe)]
As time went by, and as the atrocities of Hitler became more blatant, Bonhoeffer began to wonder, if no other course were possible to remove this madman (all other avenues having failed), would violence be acceptable? With much struggle and with much soul searching, he believed he received his answer from the Lord. When confronting this level of evil, violent resistance was acceptable. It might even be necessary.
We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.
So back to Jehoshaphat. What happens next? How is his prayer answered? A fellow named Jahaziel steps forward with a word from God. He relays this message: the Lord says not to be afraid of this great horde. “The battle is not yours but God’s” (v. 15). With that, they are all led in blessing and celebration.
The next morning, King Jehoshaphat appoints singers to march before the army and sing praises. We have a military formation with worship leaders serving as the vanguard, leading the troops. Singers and musicians going into battle isn’t strange, in and of itself. Throughout the centuries, music has been used to stir up a fighting spirit. In this case, it is the worship of the Lord, not an anthem to king and country. (Or queen and country.)
Apparently, the strategy works. They have employed some divinely inspired tactics! We know that because their enemies all turn on each other. This is the very definition of “friendly fire.” And they give a brilliant performance of firing friendly, because not a single one of them survives!
It appears word got out about the fate of those would-be conquerors, because we’re told, “The fear of God came on all the kingdoms of the countries when they heard that the Lord had fought against the enemies of Israel. And the realm of Jehoshaphat was quiet, for his God gave him rest all around” (vv. 29-30).
The Scottish minister Alexander MacLaren was born in 1826. Commenting on Jehoshaphat’s prayer, he says it demonstrates “the confidence of despair” of he and his people. The confidence of despair—what a delightfully counter-intuitive insight!
They all know they are up against it, but “the very depth of despair sets them to climb to the height of trust.” We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon you.
We might be reminded (in Luke 3) of what John the Baptist said to the crowds who sought him out. They asked, “What then must we do?”
There was a movie in the early 80s, The Year of Living Dangerously, with Mel Gibson, Sigourney Weaver, and Linda Hunt. Hunt won the Academy Award for her portrayal of Billy Kwan. She was the first person to win an Oscar for playing a character of the opposite sex.
“The year of living dangerously” refers to the Indonesia of 1965. President Sukarno is threatened by General Suharto during an attempted coup. Mass killings are launched. To the question, “What then must we do?” Billy proposes his answer. “You do whatever you can about the misery that’s in front of you. Add your light to the sum of light.”
[Billy Kwan (played by Linda Hunt) agonizes over the question]
Our friend Rev. MacLaren speaks in poetic fashion. “When the valley is filled with mist and swathed in evening gloom, it is the time to lift our gaze to the peaks that glow in perpetual sunshine. Wise and happy shall we be if the sense of helplessness begets in us the energy of a desperate faith.”
Have any of us ever experienced that strange reality of confident despair? MacLaren adds, “We are most likely to conquer if we lift up the voice of thanks for victory in advance, and go into the battle expecting to triumph, because we trust in God.”
When word of impending invasion came to Jehoshaphat, he had a decision. He could have simply plunged his army into a useless battle and suffered a devastating defeat. He could have surrendered. Or he could do as he did—trust that the Lord was with them. Trust that this was his answer to prayer. Trust and see what the Lord will do.
The same is true with us. Are we willing to look despair in the face and say, “You will not defeat me”?
So, what was the result of the vandal’s attack?
Rabbi Danow already had plans for the community center to expand by renovated a nearby building they had purchased. He said, “The brick that was thrown, which was intended to bring hate and negativity and division and so on, we will use that brick as the cornerstone.” Light would be born from darkness.
And so it continues. Our Lord Jesus Christ shines in the dark, providing a guiding light.
We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.