September 28, 2014 Exodus 17: 1 -7

From the wilderness of Sin the whole congregation of the Israelites journeyed by stages, as the Lord commanded. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water for the people to drink. The people quarreled with Moses, and said, “Give us water to drink.” Moses said to them, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?” But the people thirsted there for water; and the people complained against Moses and said, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” So Moses cried out to the Lord, “What shall I do with this people? They are almost ready to stone me.” The Lord said to Moses, 

“Go on ahead of the people, and take some of the elders of Israel with you; take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile, and go. I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink.” 

Moses did so, in the sight of the elders of Israel. He called the place Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarreled and tested the Lord, saying, “Is the Lord among us or not?”

***

I have heard the argument of the Israelites more times then I can count. I have heard it in hospital rooms, on couches over coffee, around campfires, and in cars with the engine idling as the conversation continues outside my passenger’s front porch light. I have heard it in tears. I have heard it in abstinent anger. I have heard it flippantly, desperately, and innately as, ‘The Boy Who Cried Wolf,’ these stories of consequence we have heard from our childhood. We blame God, Moses, and a crying boy when we have found ourselves out in the wilderness suffering with need. This argument that God both creates our suffering and our thriving gives God a power I don’t think God has. The power for evil. 

The Israelites have been journeying in the Wilderness of Sin. It was called such because it was seen as a wilderness of idols and other gods, and I too see it as a fitting name, because the Israelites make God too simple, too consequential, too human for the great love God provides. They believe God is mad and therefore they have no water. They believe because they have no water, God is absent. They believe God is absent and therefore they are angry. I believe they are in the desert, and that is why they have no water. I believe that just as the desert is barren, so too life can be. I have heard the same argument in hospital rooms, ““If God wanted my Dad to be better, my Dad would be and therefore there is no God.” No, your dad is sick because people get sick, even terminally ill, and illness is part of life, just as the desert is part of the world.

I have heard the same argument on couches over coffee, “They are poor because they have sinned. God provides for those who follow God’s will.” No, people are poor for many reasons, racism, sexism, injustice, economic opportunity, skills and gifts, and people are rich for the same. I have heard the argument around campfires, “God is a just God and therefore my pain in this relationship has been caused by my sin.” No, relationships are hard, and as long as you believe you deserve the pain the cause, you will continue to be in it, just as as long as you walk in the desert you will have times of thirst. I have heard the argument in cars with the engine idling as the conversation continues outside my passenger’s front porch light, “God took my child.” No, God did make some plan for your child to die so very young, death happens because life is fragile and passes away, just as water in the desert is fragile and lifts away.” The argument that God is responsible for our thirsting in the desert is one easily heard, but it is too easy, an idol in the wilderness of sin. 

In the same way, we explain away our blessings, “My dad was made well because God created a miracle.” “God has blessed us with these riches and these relationships.” “God has given us a child.” “God has provided water in the desert.” If God provides these things, it stands to reason that God can just as easily take them away, and I do not believe this is how it happens. I know there are desert springs and bubble up from rocks, just as medical miracles we don’t understand, and economics which favor some over others. These cause and effect descriptions of God are idols. So where does that leave us? It leave us in a world with both deserts and springs but with a God who goes out in front of us and stands there as we thirst and our thirst is quenched. 

Expand: Why God sent elders to witness: “Go on ahead of the people, and take some of the elders of Israel with you. I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink.” Moses did so, in the sight of the elders of Israel….

We have a God who stands beside us in hospital rooms no matter the outcome. We have a God who cares for both the poor and the rich. We have a God who is with us in the best times of our relationships and the worst. We have a God who is with us even after a child passes away. We have a God who is with us in life’s frailty and inexplicability. We have a God who can not be easily explain by cause and effect…We have a God who is with us no matter if water will come out of the rock or not. 

September 21, 2014 Exodus 16:2 - 21

Exodus 16: 2 - 21

The whole congregation of the Israelites complained against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness. The Israelites said to them,

 “If only we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread; for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.” 

Then the Lord said to Moses, 

“I am going to rain bread from heaven for you, and each day the people shall go out and gather enough for that day. In that way I will test them, whether they will follow my instruction or not. On the sixth day, when they prepare what they bring in, it will be twice as much as they gather on other days.” 

So Moses and Aaron said to all the Israelites, 

“In the evening you shall know that it was the Lord who brought you out of the land of Egypt, and in the morning you shall see the glory of the Lord, because he has heard your complaining against the Lord. For what are we, that you complain against us?” 

And Moses said, 

“When the Lord gives you meat to eat in the evening and your fill of bread in the morning, because the Lord has heard the complaining that you utter against the Lord—what are we? Your complaining is not against us but” against the Lord.” 

Then Moses said to Aaron,

 “Say to the whole congregation of the Israelites, ‘Draw near to the Lord, for he has heard your complaining.’”

And as Aaron spoke to the whole congregation of the Israelites, they looked toward the wilderness, and the glory of the Lord appeared in the cloud. The Lord spoke to Moses and said, 

“I have heard the complaining of the Israelites; say to them, ‘At twilight you shall eat meat, and in the morning you shall have your fill of bread; then you shall know that I am the Lord your God.’”

In the evening quails came up and covered the camp; and in the morning there was a layer of dew around the camp. When the layer of dew lifted, there on the surface of the wilderness was a fine flaky substance, as fine as frost on the ground. When the Israelites saw it, they said to one another, “What is it?” For they did not know what it was. Moses said to them,

“It is the bread that the Lord has given you to eat. This is what the Lord has commanded: ‘Gather as much of it as each of you needs, an omer to a person according to the number of persons, all providing for those in their own tents.’”

The Israelites did so, some gathering more, some less. But when they measured it with an omer, those who gathered much had nothing over, and those who gathered little had no shortage; they gathered as much as each of them needed. And Moses said to them, 

“Let no one leave any of it over until morning.” 

But they did not listen to Moses; some left part of it until morning, and it bred worms and became foul. And Moses was angry with them. Morning by morning they gathered it, as much as each needed; but when the sun grew hot, it melted.

***

It is Harvest Season. It began for me with four days of rain and slightly cooler weather, and the Mushroom Hunter within me knowing it was time. I had a couple of hours after church, and though friends had a plethora of ideas for Sunday afternoon activities, I said, “I’m going mushroom hunting. You can come if you want, but I’m going.” For me, there are few things that trump hanging out with friends, but rain had promised and the forest was calling. We piled up with a couple of picnic baskets and headed up the mountain. Within a minute and five feet of the car, Liz asked, pointing to a mushroom bigger than my head, “Is this one?” There was jumping, kind of squealing, and for the next hour a running commentary that varied little from, “I am so excited. This is more boletes than I have ever seen. I can’t believe this. Thank y’all so much.”

I then stared being choosy. “Lets not pick the Lactarious Deliciosos or the Shrimp Russulas because we only have two baskets and the Boletes Edulis are best.” I was kicking myself for not arming my hunters each with a big basket, but my hope had been unequaled to God’s bounty. I do see fungi that way; there have been times wandering alone in the woods I have prayed for just one, and too often prayed for just one more, bartering my greed with a generous God, measured the joy of surprise with the expectation of entitlement. When I am mushroom hunting properly I am a giant five year old at an Easter Egg Hunt. When I am mushroom hunting improperly, I am crying because a sibling got more Easter Eggs. When I am mushroom hunting properly I notice the shape of each mushroom, I hold it up to my nose and smell the woodsy smell, I place it carefully in my basket like the rare and beautiful piece of art it is, and I give thanks after each. When I am mushroom hunting improperly, I pick a basket full and go that much further, and finding more of a choice kind, I lay the already picked lesser kind as trash on the duff mossy ground. Yes, the squirrels could eat it, and the maggots would no doubt, and like picking a flower I am not taking from next year’s crop, but there is something about putting back food which you already touched which just feels wrong. We teach kids not to, not only to be sanitary, but because there is a sort of big eyed greed that comes in touching, putting back, and grabbing something different. There is certainly a big eyed greed that can couple with my wonder and thanksgiving in mushroom hunting.

That day, we walked back, the picnic basket pressing red marks into my exhausted arm and I had to ask for relief because it truly was more than I could carry. At home we feasted on boletus, and puffballs, coral mushrooms and more. We sliced and spread what would not fit in the dehydrator, and I carefully continually turned them to air out. But mushrooms do not keep and I had not listened to Moses. 

I left part of it until morning, and it bred worms and became foul. Morning by morning they gathered it, as much as each needed; but when the sun grew hot, it melted.

The next morning maggots melted the beautiful caps into an inky goo on my kitchen table. The part that was left, bred worms and became foul, and when sun grew hot it melted. Then, out of the moist of the forest, tiny white maggot bodies dried and wiggled to their death, until with the melted mushrooms, I swept them into the trash. Who was I that took from the squirrels and the deer, or even the lowliest of maggots? Who am I that has stored up God’s bounty in glass jars? I too am like the Israelites who have taken more manna than I needed.

September 7, 2014 Hollywood Service

HOLLYWOOD REFLECTION WORSHIP SERVICE SERMONS

Kate Averett, Senior

When asked Wednesday night at our group check in to describe how we were feeling about what we had encountered so far this week, I replied “ right now I’m feeling a bit like a new shoe that has been worn for a week straight. Fresh but a little worn down.” Before Wednesday I had encountered the community garden, the Los Angeles Food Bank, walked the streets in search of money to help buy a meal for five, and most recently I had been given the privilege of working at the Center of Blessed Sacrament. I started the day off volunteering for something called Morning Mindset, where someone would lead the group in various activities like yoga, singing and watching funny videos off of Youtube. I went along with whatever we were doing but I had yet to really “buy into” what I was really there for. I felt the need to reach my hand out in hopes of grasping at any chance to help. To put myself out there and get things done. I can only imagine how silly I looked, and how silly I was acting. My thought was that I was there to help “them”, like I was helping someone that was nothing like me, someone below me or someone who needed me. I left the room unchanged, feeling that nothing had been accomplished. Coffee hour was next. All I could think was “great, here goes another awkward hour of my life…” on my way out the door into the courtyard I bumped into a man named Lafayette. Coincidently, Lafayette had last lived in Indiana; I was unsure of the large coincidence. We talked for a short time, and then I proceeded to grab a cup of coffee and take a seat by Corey at the picnic table. Not more than two minutes later, Lafayette, cup in hand, came and sat down by me and Corey. This was where I put down my stone. 

It wasn’t an “us” and “them” sort of deal it was a we. And we were both there, and we both ended up helping each other. It was no one sided street. He did not need me, but I did need him. I needed him to show me the pile of stones where I could set mine down and leave it too. In a completely new area, somewhere that made me uncomfortable, Lafayette reached out to me with an open hand and made the connection. He bridged the gap that I was unable to cross. He showed me that everyone has something to give. And, he showed me that everyone has something to receive. In this world of give and take, we cannot always be the takers, but now it is clear to me that we cannot always be the givers either. One simple act changed my perspective of people, the world, our surroundings, and pretty much everything. And I will probably never get the chance to thank the man that taught me so much. He gave so little, but it meant so much. 

Michelle Lehman, Senior

When I heard about the opportunity to do a Homeless outreach mission trip in Hollywood I was thrilled. My expectations for the trip were helping serve food in a soup kitchen to the homeless or helping at a food bank. The reality of the trip was much more than that. Those who are homeless need more than just the physical needs of food and shelter….each and every one of us require more than the basics of living. 

On my second day of the trip, my work group went to a place called the Blessed Sacrament. This wasn’t the typical setting that I knew to be a place to more or less “fix” the homeless by providing food and shelter. The focus was more of providing the participants with a place to come enjoy meditation, music, art and other classes. It focused on the emotional needs of those who are homeless. It focused on giving personal attention. It gave a chance to enjoy time spent with people doing different activities. The Blessed Sacrament was a place that people came to because they wanted to, not because it was necessary in order to survive. It was a time for people who are homeless to forget about the stress for a moment in time and just relax. It was more than just acting as if the homeless are a problem we need to fix. It was getting to know those who are homeless beyond their single story of living on the streets. This is where I put down my stone.

I learned to look past the single story of a person standing on a street corner begging for money. I know not how they came to be there or what they are doing to get out of the situation they are in. All I know is a single story. There is more to it than helping find food and shelter. The personal attention that is received is just as important or maybe greater than the physical needs that are met through other organizations. There is more to a person than a single story. No one live is greater than another.

Sam Hamilton, Freshman

Before I went on this trip to LA, I thought people who are homeless did not have childhoods like mine or dreams like mine. I thought of people living on the streets as people with drug problems or mental health issues. I always thought the people who are homeless had a choice sometime in their life to be homeless or not to be. I always thought it was that people didn't work hard enough or they got into drugs and that is why they became homeless. When I saw people that were homeless before I went to LA, I never thought of these people being a teen like myself, going to school everyday, having friends and dealing with the drama of high school, participating in athletics, and having a loving family. I spoke to man for at least a half hour, at The Center of Blessed Sacrament and that is where I put down my rock. 

I asked him where he grew up and what his dreams were. He told me that he grew up in South Carolina and dreamed of moving to LA and becoming an actor. Three years out of high school he moved to LA attempting to chase his dream. His dream did not come true unfortunately. After that conversation I realized that being homeless isn't WHO someone is or what they are. There is much more to the story than what many people who walk past see or choose not to see. I now see people who are homeless completely differently because I was able to get to know individuals in that situation. 

Bryson Smith, Junior

My experience in Hollywood opened my eyes to much more than I had seen in the small city of Baker. I tended to see people turn away from those in need and that was very disappointing. Everyone that was asked for help, simply turned away and kept walking. If you were in need, you would want someone to help you. I know I would! We are all children of God and we are all equal no matter what the circumstances. So it was hard to understand why people were treated so poorly. What I realized was, it all of a sudden becomes a different situation when you know the person that is in need and asking for help.  This is where I put down my rock.

While we were in Hollywood, I met a man named TJ and he was truly inspiring.  Even though he had every reason in the world to frown and be upset, he didn’t.  He had a smile on his face and a great attitude towards life.  He was telling me how one of his friends was once homeless when TJ wasn’t.  TJ helped out his friend.  And now that TJ was in that same situation and his friend wasn’t, his friend was going to return the favor by flying TJ up to Portland to live with he and his family  He was returning the favor to TJ.  To me that is truly remarkable.

Lynn Roehm, Chaperone

Deb and I would like to thank the church for their generous support in enabling us to travel with the church's youth group on their mission trip to Hollywood.  It was a generous opportunity for us to have our lives enriched by sharing this experience, as well as, getting to know the youth of the church on a deeper level.  Having spent much of my youth in southern California, I was aware and exposed to many of the diverse groups that we could potentially come into contact with on this trip, especially the homeless and those with chronic mental illness.  Prior to making this trip, I had some concerns about how our youth would react to some of the things that we might encounter. While Baker County has diversity in it's population, homelessness, substance abuse and mental health challenges, these issues aren’t something we encounter on a daily basis.  Our lives here are relatively secure and protected and we emphasize creating a safe environment for our youth. The youth of our church always amaze me, and it is not surprising how it was our youth who allowed me to put down the stone of how I thought they would react.  

Collectively as a group they were open to the experiences that were presented to them.  Initially, they may have struggled especially with the homeless dinner exercise (going hungry).  But with God's grace they took on the roles of being homeless and figured out how to feed our group.  On the flight home, one of the youth whom we thought was going to completely disengage from this exercise was enthusiastically explaining this experience with a fellow passenger.  I was also impressed with how our youth took advantage of opportunities to interact with a diverse variety of people during the coffee hour at the Center at Blessed Sacrament.  It would have been easy to sit in the corner and avoid any encounters.  Though initially it might have seemed uncomfortable most of the youth were fully engaged, learning and gaining insight from these discussions.  I think it is obvious the impact this trip had, especially as you listen to or have listened to Kate, Kourtney, Sam and Bryson.

As a congregation, we do an amazing job of supporting our youth and providing opportunities for spiritual growth.  Was this trip worth it?  Absolutely.  I know that we as a church are already seeing the benefits of this experience as our youth continue their journeys as thoughtful students, grateful servants, and faithful leaders within our church and community. 

Kourtney Lehman, Sophomore

And as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.”-John 8:7. Heading into the Hollywood Mission trip, I didn’t plan on throwing stones at anyone. The only ammo I intended to fire at anybody was compassion, and I continued to think all I carried with me throughout this trip was kindness and concern for the welfare of others until one night we engaged in an activity that affected me both emotionally and spiritually. 

On Tuesday night, all of the youth and adults gathered together under the pretense that we would be participating in a pre-dinner activity; however, we soon found out that receiving our next meal was the activity.  After being divided into groups of about five to six people, each group received anywhere from $3-$5. The task of finding supper for the entire group with our small amount of cash was to be completed within two hours. My first reaction was, 

“This has got to be some kind of a joke.” When reality set in that for one evening I must pretend to be homeless, anger built inside me. Thoughts such as, “why am I doing this? I came here to help them, not pretend to be them, the homeless “slithered through my mind.  As I stormed down the road with these horrid thoughts clouding my vision, I looked into the eyes of a homeless man sitting on the road. With that one second of eye contact, it was as if the sun came out and scared away the dark clouds which had been affecting my vision, and this is where I put down my stone.

By looking into his eyes, I could see he was feeling the same emotions of anger and desperation that were overwhelming me only moments before. I made a connection with someone whom I had let a separation in society keep me away from.  Although I had not been throwing rocks at the homeless by thinking of them as lazy, drug addicts and not condemning them to one story, I had still let a wall divide us. I had been thinking of those who are homeless as if they were a different species than me. There should be no,”they are” but rather, “we are.” With this new perspective, I swallowed my pride and did what I thought I could never do: I begged for help. God had reminded me that I was no better than those I had let my mind disregard as my brothers and sisters.  After a couple hours in the shoes of those who must live in a homeless state everyday and feeling the rejection they often receive, I felt myself shutting down. I understand now how people who are homeless feel, but I was tired of pretending to be something I wasn’t and of deceiving others. 

The youth in my group reached the point where we were ready to return to the church with an empty stomach; however, Pastor Katy requested that we try one last restaurant. Corey, Sam and I walked into the small Thai restaurant expecting to leave empty handed. We explained our situation to the woman in charge. Within the next ten minutes, Lynn, Katy, Sam, Corey and I found ourselves sitting in a booth being offered drinks while the generous woman had three boxes of rice prepared for us. A $24 meal had just been given to us for $4. Tears of gratitude and guilt flooded my eyes, and it wasn’t long before I was sobbing uncontrollably, which lasted for quite some time. Although we had not lied to the woman, she had still been deceived and that was a feeling I couldn’t shake.  Once again, that connection clicked in my mind that those who are homeless may also experience this shame; feeling as if they are taking something they don’t deserve or at least have not earned according to our society’s standards.

It was on this night that God blessed me with the opportunity to experience both emotionally and physically what some of our neighbors go through every single day. Above all, He helped me break down a wall of stones I didn’t even know I had built. Don’t be separated by terms such as 

“They and them” but let words such as “we and us” bring our world together.

September 14, 2014 Exodus 14:19-31

The angel of God who was going before the Israelite army moved and went behind them; and the pillar of cloud moved from in front of them and took its place behind them. It came between the army of Egypt and the army of Israel. And so the cloud was there with the darkness, and it lit up the night; one did not come near the other all night. 

Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea. The Lord drove the sea back by a strong east wind all night, and turned the sea into dry land; and the waters were divided. The Israelites went into the sea on dry ground, the waters forming a wall for them on their right and on their left. The Egyptians pursued, and went into the sea after them, all of Pharaoh’s horses, chariots, and chariot drivers. 

At the morning watch the Lord in the pillar of fire and cloud looked down upon the Egyptian army, and threw the Egyptian army into panic. God clogged their chariot wheels so that they turned with difficulty. 

The Egyptians said, 

“Let us flee from the Israelites, for the Lord is fighting for them against Egypt.” 

Then the Lord said to Moses, 

“Stretch out your hand over the sea, so that the water may come back upon the Egyptians, upon their chariots and chariot drivers.” 

So Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and at dawn the sea returned to its normal depth. 

As the Egyptians fled before it, the Lord tossed the Egyptians into the sea. The waters returned and covered the chariots and the chariot drivers, the entire army of Pharaoh that had followed them into the sea; not one of them remained. But the Israelites walked on dry ground through the sea, the waters forming a wall for them on their right and on their left. 

Thus the Lord saved Israel that day from the Egyptians; and Israel saw the Egyptians dead on the seashore. Israel saw the great work that the Lord did against the Egyptians. So the people feared the Lord and believed in the Lord and in his servant Moses. 

***

I asked a group of friends if there was one thing they could memorize, what would it be? One said Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, another some obscure poem of which I’d never heard, another Les Miserables.  I think my father might pick the Gettysburg Address, but I pick Genesis 1. It is the scripture, of all scriptures, that I can settle into like a warm blanket, and wrap myself with the cadence of its images and words, 

“In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, ‘Let there be light’; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness God called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.”

These are things I can imagine, and a God I can believe in, a God of mornings and light, of darkness and night, a God of the first day whose Spirit hovered over the waters. I settle into Genesis 1, not because I think existence actually began that way, or because I think people are actually created exactly male and female, nor because I agree that humans should have dominion over all of creation, but because there is something in the poetry, the repetition, and the naming of time, time as simple as the parts of day, that speaks to my core. 

So, during the Lectionary Bible Study, I could hear the echoes of Genesis 1, its parting waters, dry land, and light and darkness and that same cadence that I know and love. 

“The angel of God who was going before the Israelite army moved and went behind them; and the pillar of cloud moved from in front of them and took its place behind them. It came between the army of Egypt and the army of Israel. And so the cloud was there with the darkness, and it lit up the night; one did not come near the other all night. Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea. The Lord drove the sea back by a strong east wind all night, and turned the sea into dry land; and the waters were divided. The Israelites went into the sea on dry ground, the waters forming a wall for them on their right and on their left.”

I could hear in this Moses text, the echoes of my favorite piece of writing, my favorite scripture, but I don’t like this Moses text. I don’t like the army of Egypt and the army of Israel, or that, “At the morning watch,” that time which I found hallowed, “the Lord in the pillar of fire and cloud looked down upon the Egyptian army, and threw the Egyptian army into panic.” I don’t like that after “The Egyptians said, “Let us flee from the Israelites, for the Lord is fighting for them against Egypt.”” That “Then the Lord said to Moses, “Stretch out your hand over the sea, so that the water may come back upon the Egyptians, upon their chariots and chariot drivers.” So Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and at dawn the sea returned to its normal depth. The waters returned and covered the chariots and the chariot drivers, the entire army of Pharaoh that had followed them into the sea; not one of them remained.” I don’t want my beloved Genesis dawn, and pristine windblown waters, to be tarnished and clogged with Egyptians dead on the seashore. I believe in a creator God, not a destroyer God. I believe in the Golden Rule, to love God with all my heart and my soul and my strength and my neighbor as myself, and I think if Jesus were to look at this text he would tell both the Egyptians and the Israelites that they are one another’s neighbors. This image of God, this Israelite recreation story is not a testament to my faith, in looking further both the Moses story, and Genesis 1 harken back to the creations stories of other tribes, where with one sword God separates not only the waters, the light from dark, but also a leviathan  a sea-monster  a snake and all become two separate pieces, like the day, and the night, like evening and morning, like dry land and the deeps, like all those images I have so loved and I felt likewise split in two, trying to reconcile a scripture which seemed dead on the seashore. 

I tried to piece the poetry back together. I understood that God became the hero of this Moses text after it was written. I understood, in a time when survival was based on floods and droughts that if God could not control the storms, then God seemed powerless and pointless. I know, likewise for us today, that if God cannot subdue chaos and death, we wonder about the power and point of God. But I know like storms, death happens, a painful chaos, but not a chaos sent by God, just as God did not send the waters to drown the Egyptians into the sea. Yet, somehow, I thought that morning and evening were ordered by God, even though I know there is science behind the sunrise. I thought like Genesis 1, I could have faith as sure as the sunrise. But God did not write Genesis 1, or Moses parting the Red Sea, or Yahweh slaying the leviathan.  No text is infallible, not Romeo and Juliet, not the Gettysburg Address, not even Genesis 1. This I have known all along, but had never experienced so personally until Lectionary Bible Study. 

To have the scripture that is at the core of your being torn in two is earth shaking, but thankfully, even the loss of those words has not been faith shaking, because I know something greater. Something which our congregants on their Hike to Heaven are probably experiencing,  something which even those at Moses’ time also knew, that God is beyond our words, beyond our understanding, but that God is, and that God creates good. They knew that God is, and that God creates good and so they rewrote the creation story, that God made a great light and a deep dark that separated the two armies all night, that instead parting the deep into the dry land and waters, that their God made a wall of waters that they might walk through on dry land. The Israelites had seen the wonder of creation, and the goodness of the Lord in their freedom from oppression so they explain, “Thus the Lord saved Israel that day.” This is their creation story, and I think the ways that Romeo and Juliet, or Les Miserables  or the I Have a Dream Speech, or the Gettysburg Address are also creation stories of our time. Stories that point to God who is present and working for the good of a new reality, a new freedom, a new way of being neighbors and loving the Lord. In my own life, there have been so many creation stories, or my adoption, of seeing a butterfly on a run and believe in God, of becoming a pastor. Life is about retelling the creation story, about naming God’s presence and goodness in our midst. We can never tell it perfectly, it will never be completely accurate, but we called to tell it none the less, just as Israelites told it long ago, just as the writer of Genesis described it, just as I am trying to tell you now. This is the morning, this is the first day of the week, there is light that separated the darkness, and God is present creating goodness over and over again, like freedom for the Egyptians, like the a cloud of light, and I cannot wait to see it again, to write down that place where we find in our midst, and share it generation after generation, until the cadence of this old story gives us the comfort of knowing that which is beyond our telling. Knowing there is present and a good God because we have seen the creation.

August 24, 2014 Exodus 1:8-2:10

 

Now a new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Joseph. He said to his people, “Look, the Israelite people are more numerous and more powerful than we. Come, let us deal shrewdly with them, or they will increase and, in the event of war, join our enemies and fight against us and escape from the land.” Therefore they set taskmasters over them to oppress them with forced labor. They built supply cities, Pithom and Rameses, for Pharaoh. But the more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied and spread, so that the Egyptians came to dread the Israelites. The Egyptians became ruthless in imposing tasks on the Israelites, and made their lives bitter with hard service in mortar and brick and in every kind of field labor. They were ruthless in all the tasks that they imposed on them. 

The king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, one of whom was named Shiphrah and the other Puah, “When you act as midwives to the Hebrew women, and see them on the birthstool, if it is a boy, kill him; but if it is a girl, she shall live.” But the midwives feared God; they did not do as the king of Egypt commanded them, but they let the boys live. So the king of Egypt summoned the midwives and said to them, “Why have you done this, and allowed the boys to live?” The midwives said to Pharaoh, “Because the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women; for they are vigorous and give birth before the midwife comes to them.” So God dealt well with the midwives; and the people multiplied and became very strong. And because the midwives feared God, God gave them families. Then Pharaoh commanded all his people, “Every boy that is born to the Hebrews you shall throw into the Nile, but you shall let every girl live.” 

***

I don’t know if I could do it, harbor people in the basement of the manse like Jews in Nazi Germany or runaway slaves in the early South. I imagine an S.S. officer, or an old sheriff and his dogs coming to the door and I don’t want to be in that darting eyed, sweating hands, quick thinking lying on your feet position. Perhaps in avoidance and certainly with the luxury of imagination, I instead have hoped I would be one of the ones who speaks truth to power and that those words, along with other’s words, could stop us from being in that prison place in our own home. I have hoped what would cost me my life is my outward speech instead of an inward lie, of harbingers in a basement or an attic. Maybe that is idealism, maybe it is cowardice, maybe it is honesty. I don’t think I could do what these midwives did. I don’t think I could do what Moses’ mother did. I don’t think I could do what Moses’ sister did. I don't think I could do what Pharoah’s daughter did. To lie with penalty of my own life to save another, but this is what they did. 

I imagine Shiphrah and Puah as young children sharing their mother’s tent, their still boyish figures cocking their non-existence hips to hold other’s children in the balance of one arm. I imagine them the curious ones, not squeamish to cut the umbilical cord or hold a freshly bloodied babe. I imagine them being raised with the reality of death in childbirth, and knowing the gift of child life. I imagine them not so much making a decision to be midwives but rather becoming them in the smallest of stages. I imagine them women of sporadic sleep, often awoken by an urgent pounding door, and the response of calm haste, a bag of herbs and oils always awaiting by the door. Shiphrah and Puah, hurrying toward the expectant mother, not hurrying toward the orders of a king. Yet, here these women’s women, Shiphrah and Puah were summoned by the King of Egypt. 

This king who knew not the story of Joseph and his call to preserve life. This king who hoped to balance the number of Israelites so there were enough to do his labor but not yet enough to over take him. With fear and greed, he set taskmasters over the Hebrews to oppress them with forced labor, forced labor that built entire cities and made the Hebrew’s lives bitter with hard service in mortar and brick and every kind of field labor. Ruthless were these tasks, imposed by a ruthless king, and more ruthless was his decree to Shiphrah and Puah. “When you act as midwives to the Hebrew women, and see them on the birthstool, if it is a boy, kill him; but if it is a girl, she shall live.” I imagine Shiphrah and Puah, women summoned by the call to life, now summoned by the call to death. 

I imagine they had seen the grief of a mother’s face when a baby did not live. They knew both the physical birth and the hoped for child would be undone like the bleeding out a dream. I imagine Shiphrah and Puah’s own grief likewise, never tempered by experience but only numbed in the balance of another birth. They knew that moment when the mother first held her child when all that was dreamed could be heard in the whisper of an infants snuffled breath.

Shiphrah and Puah feared God, which is to say they knew God intimately  they knew God as the assured presence in the midst pain, and they knew God as the realized presence of joy in life. I believe this they knew as deep down as they knew anything else, for they had not learned it, but lived it with their whole being in the whole of their lives, and so it was against their every grain to kill. So they disobeyed thing king instead of disobeying God. This is the part I understand, this is the part that I too hope I would follow. I hope, even in the bitterest of evils, I would continue to do that which is at my core, that which in my own way preserves life even if all I have are words. I don't know how deliver a baby, but I like Shiphrah and Puah know how to deliver hope. But I wonder, could I convince a king, or would I too twist the truth. 

The king of Egypt summoned the midwives and said to them, “Why have you done this, and allowed the boys to live?” The midwives said to Pharaoh, “Because the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women; for they are vigorous and give birth before the midwife comes to them.” I like that Shiphrah and Puah use the intimate knowledge of their call to deceive the king, and wonder if similar words were used in Nazi Germany, or the slave holding South, or the places in our current world where refugees hide and ordinary people risk their lives with a lie. I don’t know if I could do it, it seems to contrary to me. But perhaps it isn’t so contrary, perhaps this was the exact call for which Shiphrah and Puah had been trained, to remain calm under pressure, to speak words of reassurance in the midst of chaos  to point out the gift of birth and life. Perhaps even with the king they are doing that which they always knew, he is midnight banging on their door, and they have opened and merely showing him the herbs and oils of their trade. Though their bravery fitting to their call. And it makes me wonder, how might God be likewise preparing us? What are the ways we might be called in chaos to do that which we always knew? Maybe I will have the right words one day, maybe I will distract someone with a nerdy soliloquy about a wild edible mushroom, or swim someone to safety in the midst of a storm, something which seems to little, so natural, but preserves life. What are the ways God might be using the core of who we are to preserve life for all? God dealt well with the midwives; and the people multiplied and became very strong. And because the midwives feared God, God gave them families. Then Pharaoh commanded all his people, “Every boy that is born to the Hebrews you shall throw into the Nile, but you shall let every girl live.” And then the story turns, to Moses mother, to Pharaoh’s daughter, to Moses sister, and the ways they used what they knew to preserve life. I wonder where is it today?

August 31, 2014; Exodus 3: 1-15

Exodus 3:1 – 15

Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. 

Then Moses said, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.” 

When the Lord saw that Moses had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!” 

And he said, “Here I am.” 

Then God said, “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” God said further, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” 

And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God. 

Then the Lord said, “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 from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.” 

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

God said, “I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain.” 

But Moses said to God, “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?” 

God said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM.” God said further, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘I AM has sent me to you.’“ God also said to Moses, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘The Lord, the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you’: This is my name forever, and this my title for all generations.

***

“Who am I?” Moses asks God, and one might suppose that this is really a question, that Moses, growing up in two households, that of Pharaoh and that of his Israelite mother, doesn’t really know who he is. One might suppose that, “Who am I?” is a question Moses asks of his identity, but as someone who is likewise adopted, and knows both my families, I think, perhaps Moses knows his identity intimately. 

Growing up I would rearrange the house at Christmas time. My mom would easily set out her Christmas Village and the town might as well have been L.A. because regularly the earth would shake, as I centered the church in the middle and spaced the houses, so no two similar would be side by side. I made sure the circled mirror ice risk was as equidistant from the houses as were the snowball fighters on the opposite side. I would sprinkle the snow just so, so it covered the edges.  Come to find out, years later, my birth-mom was an interior decorator and my birthfather a builder. 

Similarly, I struggled in school. I remember the anxiety of the Mad-Minute, having to answer sixty memorized math multiplication tables while my classmates’ pencils scratched fervently against their quizzes. In response, I remember summers of my parents practicing my flashcards in any ounce of downtime, from sitting in a pediatrician’s office to walks to neighborhood swimming pool. Hating books, I remember the lists of summer reading both from my elementary school, the public library, and my librarian mother, half of which, even in my teens, were read allowed on car trips and while picking up my room. Though birthparents likewise struggled in school, my parents never questioned that I was going to college. 

I think Moses too knows who he is by looking back and seeing the influences of nurture and nature parsed out. He knows the cunning of his Israelite family, hiding him for three months, sending him down a river in a basket made to float. He knows their oppression and their pain as labors and slaves. He also knows the love filled risk of Pharaoh’s daughter, recognizing him as an Israelite and raising him just the same, in the palace with wealth and power. Moses knows he is a product of the love and courage of both his mothers. He is both Israelite and Egyptian and out of being both, comes his question. 

“Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” Whom am I, raised in the palace of Pharaoh, to go to Pharaoh? Who am I by birth an Israelite, raised by an Egyptian to bring the Israelites out of Egypt? Who am I, when I have already left Egypt, because I am neither one side nor the other, to return again? Who am I to pick sides, I imagine is the root of Moses’ question. Yet, because Moses has not picked sides, precisely because he is of both sides, God has called him. Moses can speak for Israel to Pharaoh in a way that unveils the truth but comes from inside. He has family on both sides and therefore is called to the middle ground. Moses knows this middle ground, Moses knows who he is, but to lead a people of one side opposed to another, when he is neither, Moses is unsure of the call. So, God reminds him that he is not called out alone, nor has ever been. 

God responds, “I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you.” After years of looking over his unlikely life, Moses knows that God has both sent him and been with him all along. That God was there in his birthing, that the King’s orders to the midwives were not fulfilled. As his birthmother hid Moses for his first three months, God was there distracting him to silence when Egyptians who might have killed him at the sound of his cry passed. God was with Moses in the strength of the pitch that covered his basket and God was sending him in the direction of the current of the Nile. God with him when he was drawn out of the water by Pharaoh’s daughter and in her heart responding to his cry. God was with him when he had to come face to face with his dual identity as he witness the oppression of his birth race by his adoptive race. Moses knows these signs of his unlikely of the gift of life like I know theses signs. 

My maternal birth-grandmother was almost a nun but fell in love instead. I was conceived by fifteen and sixteen year old first cousins in a time when abortion was legal. My birthmother hid me in her womb under Mexican Dresses and big sweatshirts, telling no one for eight months. After reading a few adoptive parent applications, my maternal birth-grandfather choose my parents and said he needed not to read anymore and I am glad he stopped where he did. My parents went to church in order to get a pastoral signature to adopt a child, and knowing my life could have easily not have been, but through miracles big and small it was, and moreover that my life has been good, I am always grateful and live in awe. I think Moses knows this experience too, but like me he doesn't know how to explain it to others. 

Moses says to God, “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is God’s name?’ what shall I say to them?” Moses, who does not fit in any easy category, wonders how to categorize an even more complex God. And God gives Moses the only answer there is. 

God responds to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM.” God says very little but in saying so little God says all that there is to say. God says I Am and tells Moses God is present, and God is who God is - that to explain God is both impossible and diminishes God’s completeness, that God is more than any set of categories, or traits. God is who God is and that is enough. 

Likewise, I wonder if God is also telling Moses something about himself. God said further, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘I AM has sent me to you.’” Just as God does not explain the details of God-self and why the people should follow God, God also does not parse out who Moses is and explain why the people should follow him, or even exactly who those people are. And I think Moses of all people can get this, that we are not one side or the other, not simply Israelite or Egyptian, nurture or nature, but instead we are who we are, complete, without explanation. Therefore, the answer to Moses’ question of who am I, cannot be answered any more simply then his question of, “What is God’s name?” For what we are is what we are, and that is enough, for God to call us, and send us out, and for God to be present with us. 

God tells Moses, “This is my name forever, and this my title for all generations, and here we are generations later, and we know God is who God is and that God still is.” May we, like Moses, realize there is no one characteristic or trait from which we are called by God, but instead, we are sent as the whole of who we are along with a God who is.