Sermon: Daniel 1, September 07, 2025

Scripture: Daniel 1

Preacher: Rev. Ryan Slifka

This week we’re starting a new sermon series called “Daniel: Faith in Exile.” Daniel being

one of the prophets of the Old Testament.

Now, why Daniel? Two big reasons. First, Daniel has had a huge influence on the New Testament and on Jesus’ ministry. In fact, Daniel gives us the clearest Old Testament picture of the resurrection of the dead. Important to Jesus, of course.

The second reason, though, just as important, Daniel is all about exile. About what it means to live as strangers in a strange land. That’s why this series is called Faith in Exile. And that’s what we’ll unpack this morning.

Exile is where the story begins: “In the reign of Jehoiakim of Judah,” we’re told. “King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon came to Jerusalem and besieged it.”

7th century B.C. Babylon—the world’s biggest superpower—invades Judah. They strip the temple of its sacred vessels and haul them back to put on display in the temples of their own gods. They also haul with them the best and brightest of Judah’s young people—the intellectual elite—to live in Babylon.

Among them are Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah. And Daniel, the main character and book’s namesake.

On the surface, life doesn’t look too bad for these four. They’re brought into the king’s palace. They’re given the best food and drink—steak, caviar, wine. They get a free three-year education at the Babylonian academy of arts and sciences. Think Harvard or the London School of Economics. Sure they’re forced to adopt Babylonian names: Belteshazzar, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. But it seems like a small sacrifice, considering all the good stuff.

Unfortunately, though, this isn’t a case of good ol’ Babylonian hospitality. There’s a plan behind all this luxury. The food, the schooling, the new names—it’s all about assimilation. Daniel and his friends are being trained to forget who they are. To drop their Jewish identity. To become Babylonians. Loyal subjects who can be sent back to govern their own people. On behalf of the empire.

They are strangers in a strange land, under enormous pressure to conform. To assimilate.

Now, we aren’t literally in exile. None of us here have been carted off to live in some foreign palace after a brutal invasion. But the Church today does live in a kind of cultural exile.

There was a time—not so long ago—when Canada, and the West in general, was at least nominally Christian. Church and culture walked more or less hand-in-hand. The Prime Minister would call the Moderator of The United Church of Canada for advice because we were a big deal, the opinion of Christians was a big deal. But today? We live in a secular, multireligious society. And Christianity is often looked at with suspicion. Sometimes even hostility.

Going to church used to make you respectable. Now, some of you might avoid telling your boss or friends where you are on Sunday mornings. Once the Church sat close to the centres of power. Now, we’re a shrinking, odd minority.

And let’s be honest: some of this is our fault. The prophets said the Babylonian exile came because of Israel’s failures to be faithful to God and God’s commandments. We Christians have had our share of failures too. Jewish writers in the Middle Ages sometimes called Christians the new Babylonians—because of the persecution they suffered at our hands. It reminds one of Gandhi’s sayings—"I am very fond of your Christ. But your Christians, not so much. Because they are so unlike your Christ.” Our culture has been turned off by many instances of Christians behaving badly.

It's not the only reason of course. There are lots of reasons we’re in this position. But here we are. Strangers in a strange land. Cultural exiles, even if not literal ones.

And exile always brings pressure to assimilate.

Just like Daniel and his friends were taught in the schools of Babylon, we too are taught—by our schools, our institutions. Just like they were fed royal rations, we too are fed. Not only with actual food, but with a steady diet of the gods of our age: the gods of identity and individualism. The gods of greed and materialism, online fury and political partisanship. Feasting upon unlimited hours of entertainment that promise happiness, but never quite deliver.

Really, it’s a matter of identity. Not Jewish identity versus Babylonian identity. But the culture wants us to think of ourselves as consumers, rather than children of the living God. As bundles of desire and outrage waiting for the next algorithm to give us more of what we want. Sources of income, not souls made in the image and likeness of our Creator.

The royal rations are on tap. And they leave little room for love of God. And even less for love of neighbour.

So yes—our exile is cultural, not literal. But the pressure to assimilate? It’s just as relentless.

So, what do we do? How do we live in exile?

The scriptures give us three options.

Option 1 is what we’ll call the Jehoiachin Option.

Jehoiachin was the son of Jehoiakim, who was king of Judah when Babylon invaded, succeeding him on his death. The book of Kings tells us that he was imprisoned. When released, he got the same offer Daniel and his friends did. And he took it. He stuffed his face at the king’s table. He assimilated.

And honestly, this is tempting for churches like ours. The United Church, other mainline, more liberal churches—we’ve always been comfortable at the cultural table. We’re more than willing to toss out old stuff and embrace the new.

And sometimes that’s good! The abolition of slavery, ordination of women. Our booth at Pride in the Park at few weeks ago—that was a faithful witness. Not everything in culture is bad. But the danger is we can toss out the good, the true, and the lasting, and trade them for passing trends. We have to remember, after all, that Residential Schools were once thought of as good and right. Even “progressive” to the culture of the time.

Assimilation is the easy option. But it’s the option that makes us lose the plot. And get lost in the process.

Option 2 is what we might call the Maccabean option.

Centuries after Daniel, God’s faced a new empire—the Greeks. And in 167 BCE, Judas Maccabeus led a violent rebellion. No more assimilation. No more compromise. They fought back, and they took back their land by force. The book of Daniel was actually finalized during this rebellion—the Maccabean revolt. And it can be seen as an answer to it.

This is the option some of us are tempted by today. The Church against the culture. Hostility to government, institutions, society. A mission to seize control—by politics, by law. Even by force. If we were being less-than-generous we might call it the “Southern Baptist Option.” I kid, of course.

But here’s the problem. People don’t become Christians by coercion. They become Christians by the Holy Spirit, by God’s grace softening hearts. And even when the Maccabees “won,” it only lasted until the next empire came along. The rebellion gave them power for a moment, but it didn’t last.

So yes, hostility can be a strong bulwark against assimilation. But it doesn’t lead to faithfulness. More often than not, it just turns us into what we’re fighting against.

Options one and two: assimilation, or rejection. But there is, of course, a third option: what we’ll call the Daniel option.

Unlike Jehoiakim, Daniel refuses the royal rations. He asks for vegetables and water instead. And in a funny twist, he and his friends end up healthier and stronger than anyone else. Ten times wiser than Babylon’s best and brightest. Like, I picture Daniel and co. in lab coats on account of their scientific acumen. But sleeveless, revealing their chiselled, muscly arms. It’s undoubtedly any vegan’s favourite passage of scripture.

Unlike the Maccabees, though, Daniel doesn’t reject Babylon outright. His skill just blows everyone in Babylon away, including the king. So much so that he’s made a bureaucrat in the empire. He’s not hostile to the culture. But he serves it.

And here’s the big difference: he does it in a way that’s distinctively faithful to God.

Here’s the key passage: “To these four young men God gave knowledge and skill in every aspect of literature and wisdom. And Daniel had insight into visions and dreams.”

The difference isn’t Daniel’s cleverness. It isn’t his courage or his brilliance. It’s God’s faithfulness. Daniel trusts that even in exile, even as a minority, even under Babylon’s thumb—God is still God. And that trust gives him the freedom to say “no” where he must, “yes” where he can, and to live as a witness to the living God.

In a courtroom a witness is someone who provides expert testimony. “I was there, and this is what I saw. It’s true.” It’s no mistake that the New Testament uses both the language of exile, and witness to describe the Christian community. 1 Peter 2:11-12: The Apostle Peter refers to the church as “as aliens and exiles” among the Gentile, the non-Christian, non-Jewish community. “Conduct yourselves honourably among the Gentiles,” he says, “so that, though they malign you as evildoers, they may see your honourable deeds and glorify God when he comes to judge.” Like Daniel among the Babylonians, the Christian community points beyond itself to the power and goodness of God, through the witness of their own lives. To their friends, to those who they work with and live with day-to-day. Even their enemies. Especially their enemies.

The non-Christian world is to look at us the way the Babylonians looked at Daniel. When they do they say—wow. Look at those people, they resist the royal rations of hatred and division and greed and selfishness. They aren’t perfect by any stretch but look how they serve the least.  And look at how they love each other, even their enemies. That God they worship—the One who gives them strength and wisdom, and forgiveness, and relief—it must be true.” You know, I want that, too.”

The Daniel option is not assimilation. It’s not hostility. It’s witness. Witness.

Witness. This is calling of the Christian Church in our post-Christian society. Yours and mine, St. George’s United Church.

Not to be naïve about our culture. We know the gods of Babylon are dangerous, that our cultural idols suck the life out of us, that our royal rations are making us sick. Spiritually or otherwise. We know there is a much more satisfying diet: worship, the promises of scripture, the beloved community of Christ. God’s endless grace.

But we’re not to be hostile either. “God so loved the world,” in the words of John’s gospel. “God so loved the world, that he sent his one and only Son, not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.” Our job is to bear witness to the God we meet in Jesus Christ. A love that sacrificed it all to save, even those who were hostile to it. Not to condemn, but to serve faithfully. To love those who the Lord himself died to save. To take the Daniel option. To point, with our words and our lives, to the God who raised Jesus from the dead.

We may be exiles. We may be strangers in a strange land. But our God still reigns. And promises us life abundant, life eternal, life in the full. So we can trust that the God who was faithful in Babylon is just as faithful here in British Columbia. The God who gave Daniel wisdom, strength, insight and endurance still gives the same to his people. And the God who raised Jesus from the dead is still Lord—even now.

May you and I, by God’s grace, may you and I choose the Daniel option. Not assimilation. Not hostility. But faithful witness. Instruments of God’s peace.

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. AMEN.