DATE: September 30, 2012
SCRIPTURE: Romans 12:9–21, Exodus 3:1–15
© Rev. Alison J. Buttrick Patton
Tending to beach chair worshippers.
Photo Credit: Dave Matlow, westportnow.com.
Romans 12:9–21
9Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; 10love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. 11Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. 12Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. 13Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers. 14Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. 15Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. 16Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. 17Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. 18If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. 19Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” 20No, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.” 21Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.
Exodus 3:1–15
Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. 2There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. 3Then Moses said, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.” 4When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.” 5Then God said, “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” 6God said further, “I am the God of your father and mother, the God of Abraham and Sarah, the God of Isaac and Rebecca, and the God of Jacob, Leah and Rachel.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.
7Then the Lord said, “I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, 8and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. 9The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. 10So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.”
11But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” 12God said, “I will be-there with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God by this mountain.”
13But Moses said to God, “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is this God’s name?’ what shall I say to them?” 14God said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM.” [Or “I shall be-there howsoever I shall be there…”] God said further, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘I AM has sent me to you.’
Once upon a time in a land called Midian, a man named Moses was tending the flocks that belonged to his father-in-law Jethro. One day, Moses took the sheep further than he had ever taken them before: Behind the wilderness, into the woods, to the mountain, beyond the horizon … He sensed when he had crossed over, from the land of all-things-familiar to a strange and alien land inhabited by visions, angels and encounters that will radically change the course of a person’s life. He noticed the subtle shift in the light, a silver haze in the air, a rustling of thorn bushes, then a hush that fell over all things, so that even the normally restless sheep stopped their baaah-ing and stood still. He trembled in his sandals. His skin tingled. Then he saw fire: Vivid, ginger flames erupting from the heart of a bush and in the midst of those flames — mysterious, somehow-not-consuming flames — a holy figure-messenger-angel-voice-of-God.
Perhaps Moses hovered for a moment on the edge of the path, edge of the cliff, edge of all things familiar, edge of comfort and duty. If he turned back now, he’d be home in time for dinner. Instead, he turned aside, stepped off the path toward that blazing thorn bush. He felt the heat on his face, and in his chest his heart beat with something like terror and wonder and yearning all at once. Can you come to a place you’ve never been, and find yourself known?
Moses held his breath, and the Voice spoke with a voice like crackling embers and like wind in the willows; like the rush of water and the speech of eagles. “Moses, Moses.” And what can you say, when a flaming bush speaks, but “Here I am. I am here. Am I here? Or am I dreaming? I am here. Here I am…” “Take off your sandals,” said the Voice, “For you are standing on Holy Ground.” And Moses felt the holiness of it and suspected that he would not easily find that path back home, or if he did, that it would have changed somehow since he left it. He thought about his wife Zipporah, with her olive skin, and his son with the laughing eyes. He thought of lamb stew and pillows for lounging. Then he loosened the straps, took off his sandals and felt holiness electrify the soles of his feet.
What kind of courage must that have required of Moses, to stand barefoot before God. Courage: like sky-diving off the rim of the Grand Canyon; courage like walking away from the bottle, or like walking into a brand new life. Courage like saying, “No more,” or “I do” or “send me.” Courage: which is not the absence of fear but the choice to carry on despite those sweaty palms and knocking knees. The choice NOT to be consumed by fear. Like that bush that blazed but did not burn up, Moses stood his ground, stood that holy ground…And that Voice like crackling embers and eagles’ speech spoke again:
“Moses! I have seen the misery of my people; I have heard their cries; I have come to deliver them… I will send you to set my people free.” I will send you. There it was: the cosmic shift; the change that meant nothing else would ever be the same. Turns out, God wasn’t going to do this thing alone. God wanted Moses to go to Egypt. Moses, the Hebrew baby floated down the river in a basket sealed with pitch, so he wouldn’t be killed like all the other Hebrew boys (by order of the Pharaoh). Moses, plucked out of the river and raised by Pharaoh’s own daughter. Moses, who murdered an Egyptian soldier to defend a Hebrew slave, then fled to Midian. Moses, the sheep herder. Moses, the fugitive. Moses: in so many ways perfectly suited for this task, a man between two worlds, both Hebrew and Egyptian…
Moses said, ‘No’ to the Voice in the Bush. No. Not just once. Not even twice. Five times. As the soles of his feet continued to tingle and his body shook, he argued with God. “They won’t believe me,” he said. “I stutter,” he said. “I don’t have what it takes. Send someone else,” he said.
God might have agreed. That Holy-Voice-in-the-Fire might have concluded that Moses was not such a good choice, after all. That he lacked charisma, a certain commanding presence, not the mention: the ability to follow orders. God might have quietly turned off the pyrotechnics and sent Moses and his sheep back down the path to his tent and his hot stew. But that’s not how things work behind the wilderness, into the woods, beyond the horizon. Once you veer off the path, there’s no going back. Once you meet an angel of God face-to-face, and feel God’s power through the soles of your feet, there’s no way to forget. God knows that. And God waits.
God waited for Moses, answered every protest with a promise. “I will be there,” said the Voice. “Tell them, I-will-be there. Tell them, I am no one new; I have been around. Tell them, I-am the God of your ancestors, Moses. I am the One who keeps my promises.” And Moses went, a small dose of that burning-bush-power still coursing through his body. Down off the mountain he went, out of the wilderness, back to Egypt, to confront Pharaoh and to free his people. The next time he would find himself crossing over into that place beyond the wilderness to the base of that holy mountain, he’d have all the Israelites in tow.
You know, that’s not the end of the story. Because ever since then, generations of people, sheep-herders and fugitives, carpenter and fishermen, prophets, preachers and whole communities have been drawn into that alien land inhabited by visions, angels and burning-bush encounters, only to find their hearts set on fire by One who names them, calls them and charges them with burning-bush power. “I have seen the misery of my people; I have heard their cries; I have come to deliver them… I will send you to set my people free.” I will send you. And you. And [all of] you.” The truth is: God is still calling, because there are still people who long to be set free: From slavery or hunger, from addiction or abuse; from the ravages of war or poverty, grief, anger or fear.
Stop along the path, turn aside for a moment, and you will see people who have answered God’s call: At St. Gregory’s episcopal Church, where they feed hundreds of neighbors every week, at a food pantry run out of their sanctuary — grocery bags piled high on a communion table on which are carved the words, “Jesus invites everyone to this table.”
Stop along the path, turn aside and see burning-bush-power coursing through the body of Christ at Hadwen Park UCC in Worcester, MA, where the congregation has extended an extravagant welcome to gay and lesbian sanctuary seekers who have fled countries where they could be legally killed just for being gay.
Stop along the path, turn aside, and see all the folks set free at Tabernacle United Church of Christ in Philadelphia, where Artwell Ministries uses the creative arts — painting and poetry — to help children to heal from trauma and whole neighborhoods to heal from conflict.
Turn aside, and see how communities of faith all around us are answering God’s call, each according to who they are, the gifts they have and the cries they have heard.
Once upon a time, in the land of Fairfield County, a community of faithful folks called Saugatuck Congregational Church, of the United Church of Christ, found themselves in an alien land, a beyond-the-wilderness place, diverted from the path on which they had been journeying. There was a fire, one that did burn. But there were also angels, and the Voice of God, speaking this time not from the flames that ravaged their building, but from the ashes, and from the midst of the people. The Voice spoke, with a voice like wind in the willows and the rush of water, and said: “Children, my beloved children: Take off your shoes, for you are standing on holy ground…”
So here we stand, hovering on the edge of the path, edge of the cliff, edge of whatever-comes-next. Here is where we can choose to step out, despite our fear. Here also is where we confess those fears, where we name our longing for the home we’ve lost and our deep worry that the vision of our future may exceed our grasp. Here, we can confess that some days, we’re not sure we have what it takes. It’s OK. God will wait, because God’s got something in store for us.
It may begin with a building, but that’s not the whole story. The real tale unfolds as we discover just what God needs from us, just how we and our building may serve God and set God’s people free. To discern that, we’ve got to turn aside, look and listen, all over town. We’ve got to talk to teachers and bus drivers, to Lee who runs Oscar’s Deli and to Maxine at the library. We need to listen to our classmates, to the parents that line our athletic fields, to Wall Street commuters, hairdressers and elected officials. We need to watch the headlines, read the news and listen, listen for the cries of God’s people.
Beloved of God: Can you feel it, the holy ground radiating beneath our feet? Can you feel your skin tingle? Does your heart beat with something like terror and wonder and yearning, as together we get ready to take these next steps? That’s OK. It’s more than OK. Because God who knows and names and calls us, God of our ancestors — of Moses, Aaron and Mirian, God of Paul and Timothy, God of our grandparents and our God — God has promised to go with us, and Moses knows: We can trust God to keep her promise.
Thanks be to God! Amen.