Yes, I know sermons are creatures of God when prayed discerned and given. Yes, I know y’all hate it when I preach two different sermons at the two gatherings on Sundays. No, I did not have time to write them out this week. Yes, I understand it almost makes more work for me during the following week as I deal with people who want to know why I preached one sermon at 8am and another at 10:30am and the contents of both. And, yes, I understand when I give what I feel is a “meh” sermon, God will sometimes still use it to reach whom He needs to reach. Yes, I realize that this sermon will be different from the earlier service, but life and death has changed our context! Now that all of that is out of the way, we can jump right into Exodus, at both services, today, but maybe look at Exodus in a bit different light.
The story itself is very well known, even
outside those who self-identify as the people of God. We call it the Burning Bush story in most
Christian contexts. Heck, for most of us
gathered, it was the voice from the Burning Bush in the movie The Ten
Commandments that was only recently replaced by the voice of Morgan Freeman as
the voice of God in the minds of many.
Why the grumbling? Do we have a
lot of George Burns fans here today? I
am almost ready to change my sermon and go down that rabbit hole—whose voice do
you hear when you read God speaking in Scripture? Wouldn’t that be fun to talk about? Maybe a rector’s forum would be better!
In any event, as you have just heard and know
from countless viewings of the Ten Commandments, God has just called and
commissioned Moses. Moses has seen the
bush burning and not being consumed off in the distance, and so he has gone
closer to examine what he has perceived.
From that bush, God speaks to Moses.
God instructs Moses to come no closer and to take off his shoes. And this serves as one of those “different
lights” of which I was talking a few minutes ago.
If I was to ask you to name Moses’ tribe,
how would you assign him? More
importantly, would the tribe to which you assigned him on the day of the
Burning Bush accept him? His story is
well known, but do we place close attention to such details? For example, if we declared Moses a Hebrew,
would the Hebrews that God commissions him to free from Pharaoh accept him as
one of their own? He was raised a prince
of Egypt in the royal household, their oppressors. Do you think they would claim him as Hebrew
before he’s led them to freedom? Don’t
worry. Moses has his doubts, too. He asks God what answer he should give to
Israel when they ask what God’s Name is.
Moses realizes that they will be incredibly suspicious of him and his
motives. Though he is Hebrew by birth,
he has not had their hard life of oppression.
What if you called him an Egyptian? Would they accept him? The last couple weeks of OT readings has made
it clear that Egypt fears and despises Israel.
Pharaoh commands the midwives to put the male babies to death and then
drafts all Egypt into that effort. They
probably would not accept him either, huh?
I mean, he is one of them!
That only leaves one other tribe,
right? Would the Midianites accept him
as one of their own? He has married into
Jethro’s family, and Jethro is well respected.
Moses has become a good, if not great, shepherd. Of course, they mostly think of Moses as an
Egyptian. It makes sense. Moses crossed the great desert from Egypt at
the beginning of his exile. Why would
they not think of him as an Egyptian?
Three tribes, but none to claim his own
and none to claim him. It’s almost as if
Moses is a wanderer like some other figure in history, traveling, but with no
home to call his own. If you have missed
too many weeks this summer, I am referencing Abraham, the wandering Aramean.
When we think on Moses, we tend to think
on Moses after the Exodus, don’t we? We
tend to think of the guy who parted the Red Sea or was given the torah by
God. If we study the Scriptures a bit
more, we might think of the snakes or the quail or the manna. But we generally think about Moses after God
has called and used him in His redemptive purposes. Everyone wants to claim Moses as their own by
the end of the story. At the beginning,
though? Not so much.
I point that out for a reason here as he
approaches the burning bush and hears the voice of God. Moses has been bereft of his identity. Moses has been dependent upon the tolerance
and hospitality of others. Now, as Moses
comes into the presence of God, how is he treated. God tells him to take off his shoes.
I know, I know, it is hallowed or sacred
ground because God is present. But in
these ANE cultures around which Moses has bounced, there is a bit more at work
other than God being present, which, let’s face it, is incredible for some to
accept. Taking off one’s sandals was a
meaningful act in what you and I call hospitality. To be invited into the dwelling of one meant
one was being extended the protection of the host. In other words, if I invited you into my
dwelling place, you were under my protection.
Were anything to happen to you while you were under my protection, I
would be dishonored. If someone attacked
you, they had to get through my men first.
Such was the obligation of hospitality.
In taking off ones shoes, the one being
shown hospitality was accepting the offering of the giver and exhibiting trust
in their protection. The preparedness
for battle was no longer necessary. In
fact, guests would often have feet washed and other ministrations in order not
to soil the dwelling of the host. Taking
of the sandals was a sign that both parties were entering into this social
covenant.
Back to Moses. What would it mean, given his wandering
existence, his identity crisis to use modern language, to be invited by God
into His dwelling place and instructed to take off his shoes? Ah, you get it now. I hear the murmurs. It is, as Jim would complain were he with us
today, almost too fanciful to believe or accept. Why would the Maker of all that is, seen or unseen,
make such a gesture to a wandering human?
The truth, of course, is that He makes that offer to all humans. Every human is offered the opportunity to
dwell in the household of God for all eternity.
Such an invitation and opportunity is made possible through the work and
person of Christ Jesus, but the opportunity is available to everyone. Better still, while I know we are too
influenced by the apocalyptic teachings of Left Behind and other such fictional
works, how do the Scriptures describe our existence with God? As real existence. Jesus teaches about the right robe for a
feast. The prophets remind us that it is
better to dwell at the threshold of God’s dwelling place than in the luxurious
tents of the wicked. The Garden of Eden
imagery is like that of a manse or Babylonian palace. Heck, when we bury Jim we will long for the
day when God’s people are gathered as one flock under One Shepherd, right?
The greatest promise of Scripture is that
God’s people will dwell with Him and that He will dwell with them. It would seem fanciful. Why would God want to dwell with people like
us? But over and over and over again,
God makes that promise to His people.
And over and over again He instructs His people to go into the world
living as if they trust in His promise and to invite those whom they
encounter. Another facet of the gem we
call the Gospel is the reminder that God, the Maker of all that is seen and
unseen, made every person and stamped each person with His image. Every person we encounter in the world,
therefore, has unsurpassable worth in His eyes and ought to in our own. Even enemies.
But Scripture starts off with us dwelling with God, calling Him Andy to harken
back to my Baptist roots, and trusting Him to provide everything we need. The rest of the book is how we get back to
that relationship. The promise at the
end is that He will bring it to be for all who claim His Son as Lord of their
lives.
Back to Moses. I have already touched on this a bit, but the
Name of God is important. We have worked
our way through the patriarchs and matriarchs of Genesis this summer. In the beginning of this generational
narrative, God is known as the God of Abraham, then Abraham and Isaac, then
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. It is not a
Name in the sense of the gods and goddesses of the ANE. In the story of Jacob’s ladder, though, we
begin to be revealed a bit more about this God of Abraham and Isaac. God is above and beside Jacob in his
struggles, right? Now, in this story
with Moses, God tells Moses that His Name is I Am.
During Easter season this year, we talked extensively
about that and I reminded you then of this story. God’s Name, which in Hebrew is unique because
it has no vowel sounds, simply translates as I AM. Back in Easter I taught you that the rabbis
chose Ego eimi to translate this Name of God into Greek. Good.
I see a couple nods. Whenever
Jesus makes the statement “Ego eimi . . . .” in Greek, it has theological
overtones that we, native English speakers, miss. That Ego eimi harkens back to this event and
the Holy Name of God. When Jesus says “Ego
eimi”, His audience would hear the theological claim that we miss. I had a few conversations the week after that
sermon that some Adventers finally were beginning to understand why the priests
hated Jesus so much. In claiming that
Name for Himself, Jesus was identifying Himself with God. Intentionally. Among the priestly and rabbic and scribal
elite, the claim would not be missed. In
fact, it would be perceived as blasphemous, as Jesus calling Himself God.
The Great I AM of the burning bush
narrative, though, is hard for us to grasp.
In English, we like to fully describe it through nine permutations. I am that I was. I am that I will be. I was that I am. Good.
I see lots of nods. The word has
an understanding that we would say is physical, theological, and even
polemical. God is. God always is.
In the ways of an answer, we would say God’s
answer to Moses is not exactly helpful. Israel
was oppressed by people who worshipped Ra and Osiris and countless other gods,
to say nothing of Pharaoh’s opinions of himself. What would it mean in that context for Israel
to hear that the God of their ancestors was I AM, that I AM sent Moses to free
them to worship Him, that I AM was still keeping the covenant He made with
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob?
In the beginning, it is likely not
much. Israel does not believe Moses is a
prophet called by I AM in the beginning.
Egypt and Pharaoh certainly do not believe it either. It takes time for everyone to come to the
understanding that I AM is God. Both
Israel and Egypt will believe it, at least in part, because I AM beats the
major Egyptian gods in their strongholds and despite the efforts of their
magicians and priests. Then, when
Pharaoh choses to kill all the firstborn males of Israel, I AM uses that
judgment against Egypt even as He protects Israel. By the time all of that plays out, both
Israel and Egypt understand that I AM is.
More importantly, both understand that I AM is the God of Israel.
And, yet, God is not done revealing His
Name and His character to Israel or us.
One of the themes of the book of Exodus is how God is revealed and
understood. In the beginning, He simply
IS. Later, He will declare Himself a
jealous God, demanding covenant loyalty of His chose people. But then, as His chosen people figure out
their inability to keep their end of the Covenant, He will reveal Himself as
exceedingly merciful, that when He entered into this Covenant relationship with
Abraham, He knew they could not and that He would pay the price of their
disloyalty or sin.
All that brings us back to that fancy
word, relationship. It has been a word
that has been on the lips of Adventers a lot over the course of the last few
weeks as we dealt with the death of Mary Clyde and now Jim, as the Psalms Bible
Study has been wrestling with Psalm 73, as we have talked about the true impact
of the feeding ministry, of Insight’s work, and who knows what else. We even obliquely referenced it when we spoke
of hospitality a few minutes ago. Though
there are any number of great miracles to get our attention in the stories of
Genesis and Exodus, the most wonderous part of those stories is the fact that
God invites humanity into relationship with Him. It begins in the Garden, and we reject it on
His terms. But from that moment on, God
is always wooing His people, all humanity, back into relationship with
Him. As Creator, we would say He has the
right to demand our faithfulness, but such is His mercy and love that He asks
for it instead. Better still, He asks
for it in ways that we can hear.
In the case of Moses today, He invited
Moses into relationship in a meaningful way, a way that would not impact you or
I the same. Similarly, He invites those
whom we serve in His Name through Body & Soul into that same
relationship. He invites those with whom
we partner; He invites those to whom we rent space; He invites all those we
encounter in the world. Best of all, of
course, He invited us, each one of us, in ways that were meaningful to us. And because we accepted, because we have come
to know Him and His faithfulness through both these stories and the stories of
those whom we serve and the stories of our own lives, we know the wonder and
awe of such an invitation and of such faithfulness. We know the joy of knowing that, no matter
what tries to come between us and I AM, because He is, we, too, will be. We know in a way that makes no sense to the
world that it is ok if we are out of step with the wisdom of the world, if we
seem financially nuts for giving away tons of food each week or not charging “market
rates” as landlords, if we seem crazy for believing that I AM can overcome
every evil in our lives, even death itself.
But because HE IS, and has bound Himself to each one of us in His Son our
Lord Christ, we know that we, too, will always be. To use the words of the Prayer Book, we can
rest in His eternal changelessness, certain of His purposes for each one of us.
I remind us of that call to relationship
and of how God meets us where we are as we mourn the loss of Jim as a
community. If you are visiting or
started attending after the start of the pandemic, Jim had strong opinions and
was never afraid to express them. And
now you have heard the chuckles. Among Jim’s
strong opinions was the need to get rid of miracles in the Bible. Jim unabashedly thought Thomas Jefferson was
on to something cutting out the miracles.
Jim started a group, after drafting Robert, to wrestle with such
things. From time to time, Jim would say
things that polite Episcopalians found scandalous. In truth, I was never sure at any given
moment whether he really believed what he was saying or he was just making
space for others by being the focal voice for doubts and struggles. Jim was sensitive to the message conveyed by
the Christians who garnered attention on social media. In many ways, I would say his heart seemed
aligned with the heart of Christ, though like any human he sinned. When folks would come to complain or tattle
or struggle with something Jim had said or reportedly said, I often found
myself more laughing than groaning inwardly.
Oh, I might curse him under my breath for the extra work, but it was
usually important work that needed to be done.
People would hear what he said, sort of, but forget his life. Everything he said was always in the context
of having been an active member of this parish for more than two decades. For however many years, Jim joined the choir
in leading us to lift our voices in song, or a joyful noise at least, to
God. Week in and week out; month in and
month out; year in and year out. As the
professional Christian, I would say God reached Jim’s heart, in part, through
music. Jim was never sure how important
some of these teachings were, and he was always disappointed in our conversations
to learn that his brilliant new thought had been addressed by the Church over
and over and over again for the last 2000 years, or by God’s people for the
last 6000 years. But he came until his
body began to fail him. Despite his
aversion to miracles, he came.
I share Jim’s background by way of one of
our last group meetings on Thursday nights.
Jim was in a snit about life after death. I would say Jim wanted Christians more
focused on life in this world, but the perceptions of others may differ. In any event, Ingrid finally asked Jim what
would happen if he was wrong. Would he
be disappointed to find out that all of it, even the miracles, were true? Jim had that moment of being poleaxed, of
being silent for a few seconds—yet another miracle in our collective life! But then he thoughtfully acknowledged that if
it was true, it would have to be something incredible. Ingrid just smiled and said she wished she
could see the look on his face when that day comes. Jim promised her that if it was true, he’d
probably be wearing that expression for a while.
I share that story because I found myself
laughing when I received the text between the services that he had died. I had visited him on Wednesday in the ICU, and
he did not think himself near death then.
In truth, he was feisty and complaining that his body’s failure
sucked. But he asked for anointing and a
prayer of healing. He did not want to
risk the Eucharist contributing to his esophageal and lung issues. I found it another one of those experiences
in my life where God had met me before I knew He was there. What should have been a profound moment of
shock and mourning this morning for me was one of comfort and laughter. Make no mistake, I mourn for JoAnne and David
and the rest of the family. I mourn for
his neighbors and those whose lives Jim impacted because he tried to live what
Jesus taught. But my mind went back and
forth from Ingrid’s challenge that Thursday night to that prayer of healing and
to trying to imagine the look on his face this amazing morning, even as we gather
to thank God for the work He has done in Christ for each one of us. I am certain Jim received the healing he was
promised and has the craziest look on his face!
I began this morning reminding us of our
tribal identity and of what it means to be in relationship with I AM. At the earlier service, I reminded them that
we are wanderers looking for that Promised Land, just like Abraham and all those
who came before, that we are the ultimate recipients of I AM’s unveiling
revelation. And because we know Christ
Jesus as Lord, we will, one glorious day, find ourselves dwelling with
God. We will know ourselves loved and in
a community of those who, like ourselves, chose to follow where He led, even
when we seemed out of step with others.
We will know we belong. We will
know that we have finally come home. But
Jim’s death also reminded me that I should have shared with them of that surpassing
joy and laughter. I focused them on the
peace of being known and loved and belonging, but I forgot the joy and
silliness. You see, as funny as I found
it to imagine Jim’s face this morning, I started wondering about my face and
yours. How will we look when we see I AM
face to face? How will we look when we
truly internalize that what He intends for each of us is beyond our askings and
imaginations? Best of all, how will
those whom we invited in His Name perceive us, even as they are confronted by
the fulfillment of such promises? That,
my friends, is a glorious hope of our calling and redemption, and maybe the
best part of taking His commands seriously and working hard to draw others into
His saving embrace!
In His Peace,
Brian†
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