Sermon for September 3, 2023 – The Fourteenth Sunday After Pentecost
All of our readings today invite us into the fullness of a covenantal relationship with God. It is a particular way of life that is marked by joyous and celebrative gratitude for the blessings of our lives bestowed upon us by God. It is a joy that we share with others as we give thanks to God through worship and prayer. And it is also coupled with willing obedience to walking the way of Jesus; the way of love and service to others. Jesus’ words from the gospel should strike a chord in our hearts, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life?” A covenantal life in God is a two-way street, where we expect something from God, and God expects something from us.
Perhaps this is best illustrated through our continued journey with Moses. Today we find Moses in the midst of one of the most famous biblical scenes. It is forever seared in my mind, in no small part because of Cecil B. DeMille’s cinematic epic The Ten Commandents, but also because of the more recent animated movie The Prince of Egypt. Both present interesting visual depictions of the deep mystery of God. While we skip over the story of why and how Moses has ended up, not only in the wilderness, but also married and now a shepherd. There is a wide chasm between the golden gilded halls of Pharaoh and the dusty tents in Midian.
Our familiarity with this story of the burning bush should not obscure the terrifying, yet liberating, event it remembers. Moses is attracted to inspect the bush because it is an oddity, but the real miracle he encounters is the presence of the living God, the God of his ancestors Jacob, Isaac, and Abraham. Not even Moses, however, could be prepared for the challenge that ensues, the task God expects from Moses: that he must return to Egypt to liberate his people, God’s people. That Moses shrinks before such a chilling prospect is totally understandable. I am not sure I would have done anything differently from Moses, where I in his shoes, or lack thereof in this moment; but the God-of-the-bush will not take “no” for an answer.
So let’s take a closer look at this familiar story. First, the miracle. The bush that is being burned, but not consumed, is one of those seminal emblems in the Bible for the presence of God. It is why we light our candles in worship; yes for the historical need for light, and also as a reminder of God’s presence among us. It is a symbol of an irresistible Being, whose energies cannot be contained and for who no pronoun is adequate is not subject to decay or deterioration. This is the God whose description, “I AM WHO I AM” suggests a God who is so completely unlike all other existing persons and things as to make comparisons meaningless. This is the God who generates, but who also stands outside the spheres of generation and degeneration.
Moses, whose eye is caught by the visible miracle, moves in for a closer inspection only to be seized by the larger miracle of the nature of God. The command to Moses that he remove his sandals serves to remind him, and to remind us as well, that the real wonder here is not that of a shrub that refuses to be burned up, but that of a God unlike any other. Yet a new surprise follows: Moses’ awe is immediately brought up short by a second declaration from the God-of-the-bush. This is no mountain genie, no spirit of the rocks and sand, as others might believe this to be. The terrible God-of-the-bush is also the familiar God of the people of Israel. The Unknown One is none other than that One who clearly showed abundant compassion to the generations of Abraham, Issac, and Jacob.
Then comes the declaration. This God-of-the-incredible-bush, this God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob is a God who cares about the suffering of people. Moses, who himself knew what it meant to protect and defend others, would resonate to this aspect of God’s personality, because Moses, of all people, knew that caring for others was expensive and hurtful. And so it would have been with great joy that Moses heard God’s declaration, “I have observed the misery of my people…I have heard their cry…I have come down to deliver them.” If the promise of a land of milk and honey seemed too good to be true, that would have been beside the point. The God-of-the-incredible-bush cared about Israel, and about justice, and about protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves. And that made all the difference.
In that moment, Moses must have felt a sigh of relief that the deliverance had finally come, but that feeling was fleeting as God delivers a challenge. Moses is openly astonished that what this compassion, justice-loving God-of-the-bush intends to do is to be done by none other than Moses himself. “So come and I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.” To Moses’ mind, such a plan of action must have presented at least two difficulties, but he verbalizes only one of them. If you are a consuming-God-who-is-not-consumed, why not take care of this yourself? Moses must have wondered. Still, he gives voice only to the more uncomfortable question: “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” God’s response to Moses’ understandable reservation is, of course, to say that Moses will not be alone. The awesome God-of-the-bush will be with him, so that not even Pharaoh need be feared. This is what Moses can expect from God as they journey forth together. This is the promise of God.
No one is a witness to this sign but the solitary Moses, yet its meaning will be in his heart in the days to come when he stands before Pharoah. He has been commissioned to lead his people out of bondage by none other than the terrible-God-of-the-bush, the faithful God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, I AM WHO I AM. When faced with such a commission from such a Being, not even the trembling Moses could say no. Like many faithful people since Moses’ instincts for comfort and safety are brushed aside by the terrible presence of the living God, a God whose call to service he could not bring himself to ignore.
And so it is for us, as that promise and covenant has been renewed in Jesus, where we walk the way of Christ hand in hand with God. Like Moses, we may be called to go to the dark places of our world to proclaim the liberating love of God for everyone. And like Moses we may not want to fallow, but we can take heart that just as God accompanied the Israelites out of slavery, through the wilderness, and into the promised land, so too will God through Christ walk with us every step of the way. So fear not the Pharaohs of this world, for what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their souls? Amen.
