Proper 17A / Ordinary 22A / Pentecost +16 August 31, 2008

Exodus 3:1-15
Some of the ancient rabbis commenting on this event on Sinai suggested that the bush which Moses encountered was always there, burning, but no one else saw it. The burning bush was not only a miracle, but more of a test — a test of Moses’ awareness and ability to pay attention.  Perhaps, the key to discerning the presence of God in our lives is no more complicated than being able to pay attention long enough to behold the miracles that are right in front of us.

God reveals God’s presence to us in the midst of our ordinary, everyday lives.  It was that event which inspired Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poem:

Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

The whole earth is holy because its creator makes God’s presence known through it, reveals the divine presence in burning bushes as well as in manger cradles.  Perhaps all of this means that a church is no holier than any other place since God is no more in a church than God is anywhere else.  But what makes a church holy in a special way is that we ourselves are more there, that is, more present. What Heidegger called Anwesenheit (presentness) — more present to the divine, more present to our true selves.

Proper 16A/Ordinary 21A/Pentecost +15 August 24, 2008

Exodus 1:8-2:10

Poussin, Finding of Moses 1651, Lond.Nat

The new Pharaoh feared the power of these Hebrew resident aliens & decided to enslave them, lest they grow so strong as to become a threat to the kingdom.  If Pharaoh is worried about the number of Hebrews, it would seem to make more sense to kill the females.  But Pharaoh associates power with military strength.  If Pharaoh fears male power, God will outwit him through women.  The Bible seems especially to delight in God’s choices of seemingly unlikely agents of salvation.

It is not without coincidence, that the story of the birth of Moses is paralleled in Matthew’s Gospel with the birth of Jesus.  In both stories, the child serves as the not-yet-revealed instrument of God’s gracious intervention, and in both cases the thread on which everything hangs is exceedingly thin. But perhaps that is because most of the history that we’ve been given to read, as Karl Popper has observed, has been written by the “winners,” the people on the top; whereas, God has a tendency to make history from “underneath”.

Even when the thread on which everything hangs appears exceedingly thin – not the oppression of tyrannical despots nor even the overwhelming pressures & demands of everyday life – can thwart God’s design.  God’s grace is sufficient.

But with that grace, also comes a responsibility:

●    for who knows whether or not God is using you as He did those midwives to circumvent some evil or injustice in the world.
●    If God is not using you as God did Miriam to keep a watchful eye on the direction of the life of someone you love.
●    If God is not using you as God did Pharaoh’s daughter to rescue someone who is just barely treading water.

For who knows whether or not God needs you this very day to change the course of history.  For the history that really matters is not that which is made from the top down by the decisions of Pharaohs, kings, presidents or prime ministers, but by decisions made in your life.  Who knows whether or not all of history depends upon your being present for someone else.

Proper 15A / Ordinary 20A / Pentecost +14 August 17, 2008

Genesis 45:1-28

Velazquez, Joseph's Coat 1630

Joseph, who had been sold into slavery by his brothers, now stands before them, & they don’t recognize him. Little brother Joseph has been transformed into a big man in the Pharaoh’s court, & his brothers are in Egypt to beg for food, for back in Palestine famine has taken the land.  By now Joseph has adopted royal ways, succeeded in a sophisticated culture a long way from his family’s nomadic roots. The law of retaliation ought naturally come into play. It wouldn’t be out of character for Joseph to seek revenge.  But this is not the same Joseph.

He says in a regal tone, “I am Joseph”.  Then, his voice cracks, tears cannot be restrained, and he falls upon them saying, “I am your brother, Joseph”.  Official speech, as Brueggemann would have it,  gives way to intimate talk of family.  We have here a story about envy, cruelty, jealousy, love, tenderness and all the other sometimes painful, often blessed experiences of human families.  And the story says, this is where God meets us. God uses even the messy brokenness of our families for divine purposes.  “God sent me before you,” says Joseph, “to preserve life”.

“And he said, ‘I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt.  And now do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life…. And he kissed all his brothers and wept upon them”.

Joseph is not the same person.  With philosopher, historian, Hannah Arendt, “without forgiveness, our capacity to act would be confined to one single deed from which we could never recover”.  Lie upon lie, deception after deception, when will it all end? When one, who, like Joseph, is manifestly entitled to retribution chooses not to take it.

“I say to you that hear, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.  To him who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also…”.

When will it ever end?   If ever there were one who was entitled to retaliate for the injustice, the betrayals, the scorn, it was Jesus.  But we hear from the cross: “Father, forgive them…”.   He is crucified, so that we no longer need to crucify one another.