Exodus 3:1-12
Proper 17 / Year A
“God called to him
out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!”
If the bible was a
play, its main character has been off stage for some time. God’s last lines consisted of a brief
dialogue with Jacob. When the scene of
Joseph’s life comes to a close, Act I of the biblical drama (the Book of
Genesis) concludes and the curtains close.
Act 2 picks up the story some 400 years later. The Hebrews, who prospered in Egypt for generations,
are now enslaved by those who fear their success and power. With the Pharaoh’s edict to kill every male
Hebrew at birth the oppression reaches the unthinkable level of systematic
genocide.
One baby eludes
this death sentence and grows up raised by the Pharaoh’s own daughter. He is given the name Moses, one who is drawn out (an allusion to his
being found adrift in a basket in the Nile River). Raised as an Egyptian prince until as an
adult he learns of his heritage, Moses flees after killing a taskmaster while
defending a Hebrew slave. He ends up in
Midian (a land on the eastern side of the Gulf of Aqaba), marries, and becomes
a lowly shepherd. For reasons unknown,
Moses leads the flock into the Saini wilderness (on the western side of the
gulf) and takes them up Mt. Horeb; a massive, foreboding rock outcrop known as
the Mountain of God. It is here God
makes a dramatic return to the stage.
A theophany is the
appearance of a deity to a human being and the burning bush is no doubt the
quintessential example of this. The text
seems to reflect the progression of Moses’ discernment. He moves from fascination (how can a bush be
on fire without being consumed?) to sensing the presence of an angel to the
realization he is standing before the HOLY ONE; an event so potent the dirt
beneath his feet is transformed into sacred ground.
God, as a
character, introduces himself to Moses.
“I am the God of your father (most likely a person Moses never knew),
the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob” (legendary figures
from the distant past whose status puts them on whatever is the ancient Hebrew
equivalent of Mt. Rushmore). Moses,
overcome with awe, hides his face, afraid even to look at the visible
manifestation of God.
God’s next lines
tell us much about who God is. They will
define God throughout the second act (the Exodus story), for the rest of the
biblical drama, and into our own day and time:
“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, and I have come down to deliver them.”
I see
the misery. I hear the cries. I understand the suffering. I am going to do something about it. I act.
Seeing, hearing, understanding, acting: this is how God describes the
divine nature. God may have been off
stage for while, but this does not mean God is unaware of how the drama has
been unfolding. And now when the people
have lost hope God is front and center once again.
As God
tells Moses of the plan to deliver the Hebrew people from bondage and to bring
them to a “good and broad land, flowing with milk and honey” the script gives
Moses no lines of dialogue. How does he
take this news? Is he thrilled, puzzled,
doubtful? We don’t know. But surely you can imagine the look on his
face when God says, “Come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people out of
Israel.” However supportive he was of
God’s intended action, Moses is now in panic mode: “But who am I that I should
do this?” “Don’t worry,” God responds,
“I will be with you.”
And
then Moses asks, “What if the people ask me what your name is? What shall I tell them?” Up until this point in the bible, God has
been identified either as ‘Elohim
(God) or Yahweh (the Lord). Both are used throughout today’s
reading. In answering Moses God (‘Elohim) says ‘Ehyeh ‘Asher ‘Ehyeh, most often is translated as “I AM WHO I
AM”. But the phrase is very cryptic and
can be rendered as “I am that which I am” or “I am what I shall be” (conveying
the meaning of “You’ll find out who I am”).
‘Asher, the middle word, hints
at causing to become, making happen, or taking action. Given this,
the name could be “I am who I will be” or “I am that I am” or “I am one who
brings things into being.” How much
simpler it would have been if the Lord has said, “My name is Harold”!
One
thing is clear about the name I AM, there is something in the original Hebrew
suggesting action. I see. I hear.
I understand. I act or I will
act. And as God acts, Moses is enlisted
as God’s partner. God always acts in
this way, be it speaking through a prophet or becoming incarnate in a virgin’s
womb. And the faithful always try to
discern God’s desire in their age and ponder what God would have them do. God still sees, still hears, still
understands, and still acts; most often by enlisting our full participation. And here is a second motif running from the
beginning of the biblical drama to its final scene, God is decidedly on the
side of the poor, the oppressed, and the vulnerable. We read it in today’s story and we see it
reflected in St. Paul’s beautiful stained glass window “I was thirsty and you
gave me a drink.” As the saying goes,
God’s heart resides with the least, the last, and lonely.
Our
hearts break again this week as we see yet another black man shot by a police
officer… seven times… in the back. It is
an outrage, and far from being an appropriate response, destructive rioting only
serves to shift the focus from the initial wrong onto itself. Two days after Jacob Blake was shot, armed
“militia” began to patrol the streets and a seventeen-year-old shot and killed
two people while wounding another.
Peaceful
protests are going to continue until people sense something is being done. I’d like to see our president form a Truth
and Reconciliation Commission. Here is
an oft-cited definition of what this work is all about:
“A truth commission (1)
is focused on the past, rather than in ongoing events; (2) investigates a
pattern of events that took place over a period of time; (3) engages directly
and broadly with the affected population, gathering information on their
experiences; (4) is a temporary body, with the aim of concluding with a final
report; and (5) is officially authorized or empowered by the state under review.”
The first such
commission was organized in Uganda in 1974 to investigate the crimes of Idi
Amin. The most famous and perhaps most
effective was organized in South Africa in 1996 after the end of apartheid and
was chaired by Archbishop Desmond Tutu.
I think we need something like this because people in the black
community need to know their voices are being heard, their experiences
understood, and yes, their lives matter (as do Blue Lives and All Lives!).
I had tickets for
the 1981 Cleveland Browns football season.
Eight white men in the row behind mine were also season ticket holders. The two seats next to mine were game day
sales and one bitter cold November Sunday were occupied by two black men. The white men behind them uttered racial
insults, kneed them in the back, and eventually one of the black men stood up,
turned around a swung a heavy thermos at the person behind. You can only imagine the fight that
ensued. I don’t remember how it was
broken up, but security took away the two black men and three of the white
men. Within half an hour the three white
men returned to the cheers of their friends.
They sat down and shared their story.
“We flashed our badges to the security officials and they believed our
story.” The people who provoked this
ugly and unnecessary fight were police officers.
God sees. God hears.
God understands. God acts.
I am confident that
the overwhelming majority of police officers in our country are decent men and
women who joined the force to make a positive difference in the communities
they serve. They too see. They too hear. They too understand. They too act, at times putting their lives on
the line. But positions of power have a
way of drawing to them people who should never be entrusted with power or
authority. It is as true of the police
as it is of the clergy. And this very
small percentage does a great deal of damage, especially to people of
color. And good and faithful officers
are tainted by the actions of a few.
It is possible for
us to address the pain and injustice experienced by so many while at the same
time supporting and thanking good police officers for the fine job they
do. It is not one or the other. We can do both things and say rioting,
violence, and destruction are not appropriate or tolerable.
I sense once again
God is ready to come back on the stage of our country and God’s well rehearsed
lines will not have changed much from those spoken to Moses: “I hear the cries. I see the injustices. I understand the pain. I am going to act to bring all people to a
better place.” And then God says to each
one of us, “I need you to go to the Pharaoh and tell him things have to
change.” Me? I have a role and responsibility in
this? “Don’t worry,” God says, “I will
be with you.”
