Proper 18A

For the past several weeks we have been hearing from the Book of Exodus and the story of the Israelites’ journey toward finding God. This morning’s reading seems very out of season because it takes us back to Maundy Thursday when we also hear about the Passover of the Lord. In all the readings of the past weeks, we have been grappling with what it means to be a refugee, dislocated in place and time and how one manages to remain connected with God.

Our story intersects that of Moses and the people of Israel who have been refugees. Remember that he grew up in the courts of Pharaoh (evidently as big as twenty football fields), and was a prince among the people. But there came a day when he recognized his heritage, his people, and saw that they were suffering under the oppression of the rulers of Egypt, rulers who had forgotten Joseph. Moses killed a royal guard one day when he saw him abusing one of his people. For that reason Moses’ life was in jeopardy and he had to flee as a refugee to his family’s tribal area. There he lived safely tending his father-in law’s sheep and goats.

As Moses fled Egypt and hid out in the land of his forebears, he met God anew. (We heard this story last week.) Looking out over the flat wilderness where his father-in-law’s flock was grazing, Moses saw a kind of sagebrush burning in the hot sun that was never consumed by the fire. For a moment he forgot his troubles and suffering and went to explore this curious phenomenon.

He heard his name called out: “Moses, Moses, do not come any closer to this bush. Take off your shoes, for you are on Holy Ground.”

The voice Moses heard told him that it was the voice of the God of Abraham, of Isaac and of Jacob, Moses’ ancestors. And Moses hid his face, for he was trembling with fear. This God who spoke to him issued a command.

Moses was being asked to return to Egypt and help to liberate his people. “I have heard the cry [of my people]… and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians…” said God.

Moses was not too excited by this prospect. Egypt for him was a place of threat and danger. He wanted nothing of it and gave a number of reasons, flat-out excuses, for which he was not the right person to go.

Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?”

God answered, “I will be with you… “

Once more Moses tried to stall. “But if I go to the people, whom should I say is sending me? They will want to know your name.”

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This was turning point in the religious history of the people of Israel. Up until this point, the people did not know God’s name. God was safe from the manipulations of the people. God guarded the divine name, and did not share it.
God said to Moses, “My name is Yahweh,” that is, Adonai, a name so holy that it cannot be uttered, which could be translated, “I am who I am”, or better yet, “I am here with you; I am present. Tell that to the people.”
An ancient Rabbi once said that God shared his name with Moses and has not had a quiet moment since.
Not only was Moses taking a risk, but so too was God.

And therein lies the crux of the book of Exodus, the core story of the Israelites from which comes the rest of the Hebrew Scriptures. God encounters humankind on the way, changes us, reveals Godself to us and saves us.
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Bruce Feiler, whose video we saw this summer about the lands of the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Bible, writes in Walking the Bible, ‘Exodus is more than an event, it’s the seminal demonstration of how God involves himself in the daily lives of the Israelites, exercises control over other nations, and ultimately changes the course of history. Exodus is also living history, referred to over 120 times in the Hebrew Bible, reenacted every year by Jews at Passover, and recalled by Christians at Easter. It’s also a living metaphor, as leaders from Mahatma Gandhi to Martin Luther King, Jr. have invoked the plight of the Israelites and the plea of Moses, “Let my people go!” (1)

Feiler continues, ‘The Israelites have been wandering, from Mesopotamia, through Canaan, to Egypt…. They must now become active participants in their own story: actors, not just reactors. God makes the meaning of this transition clear: “This month shall mark for you the beginning of the months,” he says. All Israelites shall sacrifice a lamb, he exhorts, and put its blood on their doorposts. Also, in the first instance in which God seems to address the readers of the Bible, not just the participants, he says the Israelites should mark this passage forever in the ritual holiday of Passover, by eating unleavened bread for seven days as a sign of how they left Egypt in haste. In other words, we should mark this moment in time and relive it every year…’ (184). ‘God’s lesson here is clear: only by entering the stories ourselves can we truly understand its meaning’ (420).

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So what does it mean to enter into this story of journeying and of walking with this God whose name is I AM WHO I AM?, this God who speaks to us in a quiet still voice sometimes and other times in a burning bush? How does the story of Exodus become our story?

First, as a community, we embody and live the stories of our forebears. We remember each Maundy Thursday the Passover. We hear again and again the holy stories of our salvation — not just at the Easter Vigil, though that most holy night is when we are exhorted to listen to the record of our salvation — but when we come together week in, week out. In these encounters, we are reminded of God acting in our lives, in the lives of those who have gone before us and those who will come after us.

Second, we can recognise that we are all to one extent or another journeyers. We all travel on distinct paths in our own lives and on a path together as a community. Our paths become us. As the Buddha said: ‘You cannot travel on the path before you have become the Path.’ We create the path by walking and it is best to walk together in community.
Third, God helps us rise to the occasion or task set before us. The Holy One will give us the wherewithal to deal with whatever twists or turns form our path.

Fourth, we can recognise that God is always with us. The divine name, Adonai, means, ‘I am here with you; I am present.’ In other terms, ‘when two or three are gathered in [God’s] name, [God] is in the midst of them. As we gather together today, next week, we evoke God’s presence that is already within us.

So as we journey our own Exodus story, take comfort in the knowledge that God journeys with us, assuring us that all will be well.

END NOTE

(1) Bruce Feiler, Walking the Bible (New York, NY: Perennial, 2002), 174.