Throughout
most of the time that I am with you, I will be preaching from the Exodus and
Wilderness stories in the Bible. I do
that because it is the birth story for the Jewish people. As a Jew, the Exodus and Wilderness stories
would have been foundational for Jesus.
The Gospel of Matthew uses the Exodus and Wilderness stories to point to
Jesus and say, “This guy . . . the guy from the backwater town of Nazareth . .
. he is the second Moses.” To know the
Exodus/Wilderness story is to know something of Jesus.
Jesus
says, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in
heart, and you will find rest for your souls.
For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Yoke, throughout Scripture, is a word used to
talk about the Jewish experience of imperial oppression. It is characterized by its arrogance and the
way that it devours the people and God’s good earth. The yoke of empire says that you will only
gain your salvation by unending work. That
all begins with Egypt. Jesus acknowledges
that Jewish history and counters with a way of being that is wholly
different. His yoke is characterized by
gentleness, humility, and rest. Jesus is
different than any Pharaoh, Caesar, or Sovereign who has come before him. Again, to know the Exodus and Wilderness
story is to know something of Jesus.
I
also chose to do an Exodus/Wilderness preaching series because it rhymes with
some of the challenges and joys I heard as I listened to your leaders talk
about the glory that is St. John’s United Church of Christ in Jackson,
Michigan. We get back to the origin
story. We remember who we are. We recognize that the difficult circumstance
we are in, the mainline church declining, living in this poopy pandemic, and
trying to cobble together something new . . . ugh, it can be so hard. Right?
Church community can be glorious.
Church community can be hard work, damaging, and, at its worst, violent.
At
the end of this sermon series, you may say to yourself, “This Mike Mulberry guy
is really geeky about the Bible, spends way too much time thinking about faith,
and maybe needs a real life.” But I hope
when we come to the end of the series, you will recognize that the God of the
Exodus and the Wilderness, who seemed so far from the Hebrew people at the time
. . . that God has been with us and leading us all along. I pray that will be true.
As
Christians, we talk quite a bit about the word “salvation” and conservative and
evangelical tradition has made that word primarily about the afterlife. In Hebrew Scripture, however, particularly in
the Exodus and Wilderness stories, salvation is rooted in this material world,
in the land. The Harper Collins Bible
Dictionary talks about the root meaning of “salvation” having to do with a “’broadening’
or ‘enlarging’ and can connote the creation of space in the community for life
and conduct.”[1]
That
is the salvation the Living God delivered for the Hebrew people, the Children
of Israel—a broadening, a space made for community life and conduct.
Now
I want to pause here to help the good people of St. John’s UCC really reflect
on that meaning of salvation. Because as
I got a tour of the building and heard you all reflect on the ministries that
you do at this church, this meaning sure sounds like the salvation St. John’s
UCC offers the Jackson community on an ongoing basis. You broaden a space for community life and
conduct with the people you welcome into your building. You enlarge and make a space for community
life and conduct with ways you share your building with so many people in
Jackson. Literally, St. John’s UCC saves
Jackson, Michigan, in an everyday way.
The
definition continues: “More often than
not, this is done with divine help, particularly in circumstances where God’s
people face an adversary.”[2]
As
we begin the story, we know immediately who the adversary is—Pharaoh. We learn that this Pharaoh rises to power not
knowing how Joseph, the Hebrew, had saved the Egyptian Empire with his dream
interpretations and prognostications. Pharaoh,
in his arrogance, thinks he and his empire are self-made. We know better. Joseph, the left-for-dead immigrant, follows
the trade routes and ends up in prison only to rise to oversee Egypt’s economic
recovery. Pharaoh considers himself the
sun, the moon, and the stars. In other
words, he allots for himself position and power that should only be reserved
for the gods or, as the Hebrews know, for God.
At
most churches I serve, I teach a Bible 101 class. Either in the first or second session
together, I relate to everyone that real study of the Bible begins by asking
“power questions.” We cannot really know
Divine truth unless we begin by asking basic questions like: who
holds power; who is on the outside looking in; and where is God’s being and
activity placed? As we read and
responded in our Affirmation of Faith, earlier in the service, the ancient
world assumed that if you were in power, the gods favored you. If your people had conquered another people, your
gods were stronger than theirs. The
status quo is thus because the gods ordained it to be so.
The
Exodus and Wilderness stories are a response to this ancient
understanding. Pharaoh believes he is in
power because Ra has ordained it to be so.
And Pharaoh is the divine mediator between Ra and the known Egyptian
world. Instead, far outside the pomp and
circumstance of the palace, out in the wilderness, opposed to Pharaoh’s
State-sponsored slavery and violence, another story is being told. In keeping with Pharaoh’s theology, later in
history the philosopher Aristotle stated, “Some are born to be slaves. And some are born to be slave masters.” The God of the Exodus knows that Aristotle’s
statement is rubbish and that we are all born to be the Beloved Children of
God.
While
Pharaoh believes he has a Divine right to make the Hebrews, the people he
doesn’t know, work harder and longer as slaves, the God showing up in the
wilderness has come close, knows the suffering of the people, and does not
believe their divine destiny is to remain slaves. Space needs to be made . . . broadened and
enlarged for the Hebrew people to experience true community. In contrast to what Pharaoh believes of the
Egyptian god, Ra, the God in the wilderness has not ordained the status quo to
be just so. This God desires, yearns
for, is willing to draw close to, the most powerless in the world. This is the God of the Exodus and the
Wilderness.
The
God of the Exodus and the Wilderness shows up and right away questions absolute
power and certainty. This God cannot be
pinned down or enshrined in a particular spot.
This God doesn’t remain in one place.
The God of the Exodus and the Wilderness is on the move, lives in a
tent. To know the activity and movement
of God then, we learn that this is not so much a God of answers--but questions not
to tear down or destroy but to reveal and disclose the Truth.
In keeping with
God’s character then, the Hebrews are delivered from Egypt only to walk out
into the wilderness on an aporetic journey.
Aporetic is a word used by Jewish and German-born philosopher and human
rights advocate, Hannah Arendt, who helped a number of people find safe passage
out of fascist Germany, was herself arrested by the Nazis, and escaped to the
United States. Arendt knew that to carve
in stone parameters for human rights would allow any fascist or two-bit
dictator to co-opt right and rule to the point where the most vulnerable would
eventually have no rights at all. Better
she thought, to challenge power through Socratic questioning and aporetic
inquiry. Aporetic was a way of saying
that important questions forever ended up in perplexities but working with that
perplexity and those unending questions made us a better people. Aporetic inquiry does not lead to a path or
road on solid ground, but it does point to the possibility of navigating the
uncertain world of perplexities to trace a passage, one that was not available
before—a critical practice that one takes on when there are “no fixed
directions,” no familiar “landmarks,” or “bearings” to rely on. Aporetic
inquiry is “thinking without a bannister” because we recognize we are living in
a time or place of uncertainty. Our
willingness to dialogue and question allows for a reexamination of key
concepts, principles, and assumptions because we are on a perplexing journey
which defies easy resolution.[3]
What Hannah Arendt
describes in aporetic inquiry and Socratic questioning is the journey God puts
the Hebrew people on as they walk out into the wilderness. A space has been opened, broadened, expanded,
but there are no fixed directions, no familiar landmarks, or bearings to rely
on. The Hebrew people will have to learn
how to forage for food in this new place, how to distill water they can drink
in this new place, how to be a community and a people in this new place.
This is the primary
reason I decided we should embark on this sermon series. In the changing landscape of the church, in
the midst of a global pandemic, one of the last things we have is
certainty. All that we find around us is
perplexity. How shall we be on this new
and sometimes frightening journey? The
rules have all changed. We don’t know
where to go to get our most basic needs met as a people. And there has been conflict as we all try to
figure out who we shall be on this perplexing, aporetic journey.
But this is where
our Biblical stories are a gift to us.
We learn from the Exodus and the Wilderness story that living in a
perplexing wilderness does not mean God has deserted us. On the contrary, God is on the move. As the people of God, sisters and brothers,
siblings and cousins, we are not necessarily called to resolution and certainty
but to affirm the presence of God, ask the questions (some that may have no
real answers), and learn what it means to be on this new journey. We trace a passage that was not available
before. Just because this journey is
different, does not mean it is without the blessing of God.
God is on the move. So we, as the people of God, should be too. Where we were in the not-so-distant past, it may have been safe and certain and known. But the Biblical story seems to teach us that our God is not found in the safe and the certain and the known. I invite you, to walk with me in the wilderness, with a God who would never look upon you and say anything less than, “You are my Beloved Children, created in my image, just for this uncertain, perplexing journey. Do not think for a second that your lowly estate in this moment means I approve of the status quo. Rather, I am working through you to transform the slavery, violence, and oppression of every Pharaoh and Caesar until all of Jackson, all of Michigan, might experience a broad and expansive place, and know salvation.” Amen.
[1]
“salvation,” Powell, Mark Allan, ed. HarperCollins Bible Dictionary.
Abridged Edition. (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2009). https://www.bibleodyssey.org/HarperCollinsBibleDictionary/s/salvation.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Ayten Gündoğu, Rightlessness in an age of rights: Hannah Arendt and the contemporary struggles of migrants (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), pp. 22ff
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