Exodus 3:1-15
Lent 3 / Year C
Lindsey Godwin, a college
professor, writes about a family vacation at the Grand Canyon. After the adventure was over, she asked her
children about their favorite memory from the trip, supposing it might be
standing on the edge of an awe-inspiring natural wonder or stargazing a night
sky unpolluted by human light. But no,
their highlight moment was winning a stuffed monkey from a claw game at a hotel
arcade. After all the hours of planning,
enduring the inevitable snafus which come up while travelling, and paying for
it all, Godwin says she had hoped for something more impactful than this.
As a parent, I have been
there. I suspect you have too. Still, I can relate to her children because
of my experience on our pilgrimage on the Portuguese Way of the Camino. At one point I encountered a local family
enjoying a walk together on a beautiful day.
Even though I didn’t speak their language I recognized two of the boys
were playing a game of Paper, Rock, and Scissors. I can’t remember how I communicated it, but
somehow I let on I knew the game and wanted to play. And so it began: Paper, Rock, Scissors –
shoot. And just that quickly I won. I can’t even begin to tell you how
disheartened the little boy was.
Apparently, he enjoyed winning much more than I enjoy besting a small
child at anything. Now, I am not in the
habit of asking God for miracles, but at that moment I prayed, “Please, please,
please, dear sweet little baby Jesus, humble and mild, if you can hear me, I
only ask one thing: don’t let me win the next game.” Round 2: Paper, Rock, Scissors – shoot. I shot paper while he had scissors. I can still visualize his celebration dance
and unvarnished joy and I remember how it reaffirmed my belief in the Nicene
Creed and all things orthodox.
The Paper, Rock, Scissors Champion of the Camino
Like the stuffed animal
from the claw game, why is this one of my most profound memories of that
pilgrimage? If the trip’s brochure would
have advertised this to be the zenith of my experience, I never would have
signed up. And yet, it is one of my most
cherished, enduring memories.
Graham says it is an
example of what psychologists refer to as the “peak-end rule.” It suggests we tend not to remember the
totality of a grand undertaking but focus more on the peak moments. But here is the catch, these peak moments
typically are not the pinnacle, majestic, experiences, but ordinary moments you
notice and savor. Graham writes, “Research… on well-being…
shows that happiness isn’t found in once-in-a-lifetime experiences, but in
small, meaningful moments.”
All of this may seem
counter to today’s first reading from the Book of Exodus. Moses is on Mt. Horeb and he is in the midst
of doing a very ordinary thing (tending to his flock of sheep) at a most
ordinary location (a non-descript mountain on the Saini Peninsula whose main
distinguishing feature seems to be its parched landscape - the word horeb
means ‘very dry’). So, in this sense, he
is merely tending to the daily round when the most extraordinary thing
happens. God becomes manifest to him in
a bush on fire yet not consumed by the flame.
It is perhaps the single best-known encounter between a human and the
Divine in all of scripture. It truly is
a peak experience.
You might think it is so
overwhelming Moses can do nothing other than to be drawn into it, but the text
tells us he has to look aside from what he is doing in order to see the bush
and then must decide to investigate it.
It is a small detail, yet it reminds us how Moses, like all pilgrims, is
open to discerning God’s presence in mundane moments and times. Who knows how many other shepherds had passed
by this site yet failed to apprehend in it what Moses discerns.
Do you know the story of
St. Martin of Tours? He grows up in the
4th century during a time when Christianity has become a legal religion,
but hardly embraced by Rome’s ruling elite class. Martin, being the son of a veteran officer, is
required to join a cavalry at the age of 15 and three years later is sent to a select
unit assigned to protect the emperor. At
some point during this period in his life, Martin decides to be baptized. While still in his training period, as he is
riding into the French city of Amiens, he comes upon a scantily clad beggar. Without hesitation, Martin cuts his military
cloak in two, giving one half to the beggar to keep him warm. That night, he dreams Jesus, wearing the beggar’s
cloak, is telling angels how Martin had given it to him. What begins as a simple act of kindness and
compassion has become an example which continues to inspire the faithful to
seek and serve Christ in all persons.
When you understand your
life to be a pilgrimage, you become especially attentive to the ordinary
moments of life, expecting them to be extraordinary opportunities to find joy
and meaning in our life. And while you
may never come across a burning bush like Moses did, each day is filled with God’s
presence, even in something as ordinary as a game of Paper, Rock, and Scissors.
