DON’T BE ALARMED

Sermon preached in Shepton Mallet, Somerset on 6/5/07

Daniel 6, v.1-22 & Mark 15, v.46 – 16, v.8

I see from my records that I spoke here 6 months ago on these very two books: Daniel and Mark. On that occasion, the topic was to do with signs of the end of the age, and there was the clearest possible link between the two readings. But now, here we are again, with readings from those same two books, and one can’t help wondering how closely connected are they? Well, it’s an idea, certainly, but do this evening’s readings do anything to support it? Well, we shall see!

First of all, I noticed that both the readings from Mark contained the same phrase: “Don’t be alarmed”. Last time the context was in relation to wars, earthquakes and famines, and this time it is in relation to the feelings of the women at the tomb, empty except for the strange apparition of a young man dressed in white. So I followed this phrase up by doing an internet search on the entire bible. Would you believe, it only occurs four times, twice in Mark, and once in two other places: in the Acts of the Apostles (when Paul goes to see if someone who had fallen into a deep sleep and tumbled out of a third storey window while he was preaching was still alive!), and the other occurrence? – yes, it’s in the book of Daniel. The occasion is when Belshazzar saw the writing on the wall.

On this occasion, the words “Don’t be alarmed” were spoken by the queen, when she saw how terrified Belshazzar was – so shaken up that (as we are told) his knees knocked together and his legs gave way! The queen’s comfort is to recommend him to call for Daniel to interpret the writing. She says that Daniel “has the spirit of the holy gods in him”, that he has “the ability to interpret dreams, explain riddles and solve difficult problems.” Sounds like a useful guy. Well, Belshazzar certainly thought so, and since he had promised that whoever interpreted the writing would be “clothed in purple, have a gold chain placed round his neck, and be made the third highest ruler in the kingdom*. when Daniel came and interpreted the writing, that is exactly what happened to him. All credit to Belshazzar, though, for keeping his word, despite the fact that the interpretation was such bad news for the unhappy ruler. I suppose a lesser man would have had him killed outright.

In fact, that very night, Belshazzar is slain, and Darius the Mede took over the kingdom. And that’s the point at which tonight’s episode starts: with Darius setting up his governmental infrastructure. It’s a bit ironic that the queen’s words “Don’t be alarmed” and sending for Daniel didn’t actually help Belshazzar avoid his tragic fate, although undoubtedly knowing what the mysterious words meant, and knowing he’d done the right thing by Daniel might have helped him to compose himself a bit.

Darius would have been well aware of Daniel’s reputation and status, but, in addition, we are told that he also found him to be a man of exceptional qualities. Because of this, he planned to “set him over the whole kingdom”. This proposal fills all the other officials with vile envy, and they try to find ways to discredit him. They’ve already been humiliated because Daniel understood the writing on the wall, while they were all baffled by it. And now they were facing the same sort of thing again with the new ruler. First they tried to find a professional shortcoming in him, but he was clearly a role model for all government officials: “trustworthy and neither corrupt nor negligent”. So they planned to ensnare him through his devotion to God. The normal setup was that the king would be revered as a god, and allegiance to other gods would be seen as disloyalty or treachery, and perpetrators would be punished accordingly. So they go to the king and persuade him to issue an edict that anyone who prays to other gods should be thrown into the lions’ den. How could Darius say no? If he did, that would be tantamount to saying that he was not a god, and therefore had no divine right to be king. It would have been instant political suicide. So he issues and signs the edict. At this stage, of course, there is no mention of Daniel.

How does Daniel react to this, when he hears about it? Well, it seems no-one needs to say, “Don’t be alarmed,” to him. We are told, “He got down on his knees and prayed, giving thanks to God, just as he had before.” But while he is asking God for help, the men come in, in a bunch, and find him at it. They go, in a bunch, straight to Darius and tell him about Daniel. Later on they all go to him again, all in a bunch again, and oblige him to stand by his edict. Which of course he does. And we know the rest of the story. Daniel is thrown into the lions’ den, and emerges unharmed because of his unswerving trust in God.

I said that was the rest of the story, but, you know, there is another story here which is equally striking, and that is the story of the king, King Darius. I’ve already said some words about how he was manoeuvred into making the edict in the first place by political considerations. Just the same thing applied when the men came back to him. They first of all said, “Did you not publish a decree…?” He could not deny this without lying publicly. They then said that they had seen Daniel praying three times a day. The effect of this is that the king is “greatly distressed”. Now, what kind of king would be greatly distressed at such a thing? Only one who wants to do the right thing. He clearly respects and values Daniel, and now finds himself in the position where he has to choose between sacrificing Daniel and safeguarding his own position (which he would undoubtedly call “good governance”). In a nutshell, he has to decide, “Do I let my kingdom fall apart for the sake of what I know to be right?” No wonder he was distressed. And we are told “he was determined to rescue Daniel, and made every effort until sundown to save him”.

I reckon this was a bad day for Darius! And of course it wasn’t over yet. The hateful people brought Daniel and threw him into the lions’ den. And then the king utters words which are both completely clear and straightforward, and at the same time tantalisingly ambiguous. He said, “May your God, whom you serve continually, rescue you.” Now, is he expressing a heartfelt desire? or is it tantamount to saying, Sorry, you haven’t a chance!” Does he say it with confident hope or is he clutching at straws? At the very least, he is openly admitting the possibility that Daniel’s God is greater than he is, since he couldn’t rescue him himself.

The king then has to safeguard against trickery, so he seals the mouth of the den. And now, in the detail that follows we get a real insight into what this king is made of. He “returned to his palace and spent the night without eating and without any entertainment being brought to him. And he could not sleep.” Then, at the first light of dawn he got up, and hurried to the lions’ den. He called to Daniel in an anguished voice, and when he heard Daniel’s reply, he was overjoyed.

Darius comes across as a ruler of very high moral standards; as someone who wants to use his power to recognise and promote excellence. But the galling thing is that, however much he may want to do this, he simply can’t do it: circumstances are against him. The rule of law meant so much to the stability of society, that to undermine it would have deprived him of the very power that ought to have enabled him to act morally. Of course, it wouldn’t have reached crunch point if it hadn’t been for that bunch of moral lepers manipulating the situation out of envy. But then, they wouldn’t have been roused to envy if Darius hadn’t sought to reward Daniel’s excellence and raise him to a superior position. Oooh! it’s a tangle!

One thing we can surely all identify with, however, is the sense that circumstances do seem to have a way of frustrating our desire to do the right thing, or even of making the things we thought were right go horribly wrong.

And now’s the time to spend a few minutes thinking about those poor women at the tomb. They, too, had gone at the first light of dawn to honour someone that, for all they knew any better, had died. (You see, I haven’t completely forgotten the idea that these two passages are, in some ways, connected with each other!) But if it was just such basic facts that connected them, it would hardly be significant. But consider how their love for Jesus and their desire for goodness to prevail must have seemed to them to have been betrayed by circumstances (predominantly, it has to be said, by a horrid bunch of men). And for them, too, their deepest feelings are aroused, as they now try to do the only good thing left for them to do: to anoint Jesus’s dead body with the spices that they have bought specially for the purpose.

And they, too, were met by something that defied expectation and the laws of nature – according to which, both Daniel and Jesus would be dead, whereas in fact they are not dead! In both cases, too, there is the intervention of an angel: in Daniel’s case, to stop the mouths of the lions, and, here, to announce the resurrection, and tell the women what to do.

There is, of course, one startling difference. Darius ends up overjoyed, Daniel restored and everything turning out as it should. The story as Mark leaves it, however, finishes with the women’s alarm not stilled, despite the angel’s words. In fact, as they fled from the tomb, trembling and bewildered, we are told they said nothing to anyone because they were afraid. It is only from the other gospels and New Testament writings that we know that that is not the end of their story, and that the joy and peace of the resurrection will be theirs, too.

Well, what can we learn from this? Doesn’t it seem that, if we set out to do the right thing, passionately and with determination, we will most likely fail and cause ourselves anguish. Do we conclude, then, that it is better not to bother to try to do the right thing? It certainly might seem like it. But consider the final outcome, not the anguish along the way. Darius, finally, was overjoyed, and furthermore, his moral stance was vindicated not by his power alone, but by the power of the God whom Daniel served continually. And the women, too, eventually, were overjoyed, and their moral stance vindicated, not by their own efforts, but by the terrifying power of God himself.

The facts are, that, like the women, Darius had it in his heart (though not in his power) to do the right thing. It all went badly wrong, but through God’s activity, the final outcome was far better than could ever have been hoped for. Now, we can’t infer that God’s action was in any way dependant on the moral integrity and activity of Darius or of the women, any more than we can say that it was of no consequence to him. The facts are as they are. We may find that trying to do the right thing in our strength alone brings us nothing but anguish and frustration. If so, perhaps we ought to remind ourselves of the words that the women heard, and that surely someone ought to have said to poor Darius: “Don’t be alarmed.” For God seems to have ways of accomplishing much more than we could ever hope for.