What Moses Saw

DATE: November 2, 2014
SCRIPTURE:
Deuteronomy 334:1-12 and Ephesians 3:16-21 – texts printed following the sermon
©Rev. Alison J. Buttrick Patton

Up Mount Nebo Moses climbed, up the winding path, until the voices of the Israelites faded behind him and an airy silence settled in, punctuated only by the scuffle of his sandaled feet on hard-packed ground and the occasional rustling of small creatures in the underbrush. He reached the summit and the view opened up before him. I wonder whether his heart pounded, just a bit; whether his legs shook. He’d climbed so many times: Mt. Sinai, mostly. But this climb was different. It would be his last, his final ascent. And at the top, he met God, who had been his companion these many years in the wilderness; and something more: He got a glimpse of his people’s future, view of the Promised Land that he would not enter.

It is a poignant and powerful image: Moses gazing out across the land that would become the Israelites’ home, a home that he would never reach, then breathing his last and falling into God’s open arms… Wouldn’t a grand entry have made a better ending to the story? Didn’t Moses deserve to cross over, to get there, after all he’d done? Maybe. On the other hand, we can relate more to living in the almost/not-yet than we can to grand finales, can’t we? We know something about saying good bye to loved ones too soon; we know about plans interrupted and dreams left incomplete. We have longed for one more day, one more meal, one more mile. We know you don’t always get to finish what you start.

We also know something about the power of a vision inherited. About commitments passed along from generation to generation, and the way a dream can take on a life of its own.

Today we mark All Saints Day. Today we honor those who have gone before, who have left their fingerprints on our lives, and imprinted dreams on our hearts, saints who have passed to us the mantle of faithful living, as Moses passed his mantle to Joshua. In the early church, ‘saints’ meant all followers of Christ – everyone in the community. Not just those most upstanding faithful folks, the ones who could recite scripture, pray all day or sacrifice personal comfort at the drop of a hat, but all of them: Including the one who snored during worship, and the one who couldn’t bake bread to save his life; the woman who tripped over her own two feet, and the man who stuttered whenever he read the holy texts.

In the letter to the Ephesians, the author offers this prayer: “I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses all knowledge, so that you may be filled with the fullness of God.” May you comprehend…with ALL the saints.

There are Christian traditions in which a select few of the most faithful are beatified, and so set apart. But I prefer this older view, and the possibility that we are all saints. Thinking that way demands something of me, prevents me from saying, ‘well, I could never be like Moses.” Or “I’m not Mother Theresa, you know.” That is the temptation, sometimes. To separate ourselves from those who have gone before, who have ascended to great heights, spiritually speaking. So, we get ourselves off the hook, because surely, we are NOT like them; we’re not saints. Surely, we don’t have what it takes, neither the holy aura nor the deep inner wisdom. We’ve never been invited to stand before God face to face; or to speak on God’s behalf, like Moses did. We haven’t devoted all our resources to the poor like Mother Theresa, or dedicated our lives to prayer. We haven’t had visions like the 16th century mystic Teresa of Avila. We are not saints. We are full of doubts, impatient, inconsistent, faint-hearted. We have good days and bad days. We lose our temper; we blame others; we walk past those in need, sometimes. We get self-absorbed. We forget about God.

So we disqualify ourselves: Saints? Surely, not we. Saints are those courageous, clear-eyed, big-hearted people who cast the vision of justice, love and mercy that we have inherited, the ones who lived as though they had an unobstructed view of the Promised Land.

Pete Seeger died this year. So did Robin Williams, and Maya Angelou. A singer, an actor and a poet, all saints, in my book, because they gave us glimpses of that better future. Pete Seeger: who showed us that singing brings people together, that tools as simple as a hammer, a bell and a song, can help us to change the world…

Robin Williams: He made us laugh and then weep. Do you remember his film, The Dead Poet Society? His character – an English teacher – inspired a classroom of boys – and all of us – to give life everything we’ve got. Invoking the poetry of Walt Whitman in class one day, he says this:

To quote from Whitman, “O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?” Answer. That you are here – that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse.

Then he asks: What will your verse be? [Check out a video clip here.]

Maya Angelou offered these lines as part of her poem “On the Pulse of Morning,” delivered at the 1993 inauguration of President Bill Clinton:

Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage,
Need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts.
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.

[Watch Maya Angelou deliver this poem at the inauguration here.]

I read these words, I remember these saints, and they make we want to pick up my hammer, find my voice, contribute my verse, give birth to a dream… Like beacons, they guide me along the path toward the Promised Land.

Then there are our own Saugatuck saints, the women and men on whose shoulders we stand. I learned this week that David Rendleman, who died just over a week ago, led the move to welcome women as deacons at Saugatuck Church. And Craig Matheson, who died last year, served on the committee that led this church to proclaim itself Open and Affirming, welcoming folks of every sexual orientation. Marj Potter helped to found the interfaith council and Helen Morrow taught us a thing or two about extending hospitality to families. These and so many others we hold in our hearts today. After we return to Saugatuck Church, we will set aside time to honor all of these saints who have passed away in the last three years. For though they have been taken up into God’s open arms, they have surely left their fingerprints on our lives.

Here’s the thing: none of them would have cared to be called a saint. Just like we do, they would have insisted on their ordinariness. And it’s true: they were all human, imperfect and plagued by struggles; they had good days and bad days, just like the rest of us. And yet, each of them conveyed to us something about the breadth and length and height and depth of Christ’s love. Which means, of course: So can we.

People of God: It is time to take up the mantle, to continue the holy labor passed down to us by faithful generations that have come before. God called Moses to lead God’s people from captivity to freedom. The truth is: that work remains incomplete: there are still people crying out for release from fear or depression; people who live in real prisons, and those imprisoned by addiction. People trapped in cycles of violence, or by systems that diminish and dehumanize. God’s work is holy; it is also pressing. Our world still longs to hear a word of hope, a song of freedom.

So hear this, sisters and brothers in Christ: As we begin our Giving Season: YOU ARE THE SAINTS. In the words of that mystic, St. Teresa of Avila, Christ has no hands now but ours… It is our gifts, including our financial gifts that will give life to this expression of Christ’s Church. It is our gifts, our collective outpouring of commitment that will allow us to make a difference in the world: to extend a gracious welcome, raise up our children, feed hungry folks and hungry spirits, care for each other, set people free. That’s our call, and it will take all the saints, all of you, all of us. Together, just imagine what we can do.

If you remain skeptical about your part in all this, take time this week to remember the saints who have inspired you: Pull out your scrap books or google their names. Read their words, watch a film clip, flip through photos – keep a tissue box handy. May those saints remind you of all that’s possible; may they reignite your passion and provoke your generosity. Then, may God bless and multiply all our gifts. In the words of the writer to the Ephesians:

By the power at work within us, [God is] able to accomplish abundantly far more than we can ask or imagine…

So to God be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to ALL generations, forever and ever. Amen.

 

Scripture Texts

Deuteronomy 34:1-12

1 Then Moses went up from the plains of Moab to Mount Nebo, to the top of Pisgah, which is opposite Jericho, and the Lord showed him the whole land: Gilead as far as Dan, 2 all Naphtali, the land of Ephraim and Manasseh, all the land of Judah as far as the Western Sea, 3 the Negeb, and the Plain—that is, the valley of Jericho, the city of palm trees—as far as Zoar. 4 The Lord said to him, “This is the land of which I swore to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, saying, “I will give it to your descendants’; I have let you see it with your eyes, but you shall not cross over there.” 5 Then Moses, the servant of the Lord, died there in the land of Moab, at the Lord’s command. 6 He was buried in a valley in the land of Moab, opposite Beth-peor, but no one knows his burial place to this day. 7 Moses was one hundred twenty years old when he died; his sight was unimpaired and his vigor had not abated. 8 The Israelites wept for Moses in the plains of Moab thirty days; then the period of mourning for Moses was ended. 9 Joshua son of Nun was full of the spirit of wisdom, because Moses had laid his hands on him; and the Israelites obeyed him, doing as the Lord had commanded Moses. 10 Never since has there arisen a prophet in Israel like Moses, whom the Lord knew face to face. 11 He was unequaled for all the signs and wonders that the Lord sent him to perform in the land of Egypt, against Pharaoh and all his servants and his entire land, 12 and for all the mighty deeds and all the terrifying displays of power that Moses performed in the sight of all Israel.

Ephesians 3:16-21 – NRSV Translation, revised

16 I pray that, according to the riches of God’s glory, God may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through God’s Spirit, 17 and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love. 18 I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, 19 and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. 20 Now to God who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.