Then
God spoke all these words:
I
am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt,
out of the house of slavery;
you
shall have no other gods before me.
You
shall not make for yourself an idol, whether in the form of anything that is in
heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under
the earth.
You
shall not make wrongful use of the name of the LORD your God,
for
the LORD will not acquit anyone who misuses God’s name.
Remember
the sabbath day, and keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your
work.
Honor
your father and your mother,
so
that your days may be long in the land that the LORD your God is giving you.
You
shall not murder.
You
shall not commit adultery.
You
shall not steal.
You
shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.
You
shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s
wife, or male or female slave, or ox, or donkey, or anything that belongs to
your neighbor.
When
all the people witnessed the thunder and lightning, the sound of the trumpet,
and the mountain smoking, they were afraid and trembled and stood at a
distance, and said to Moses,
“You
speak to us, and we will listen; but do not let God speak to us, or we will
die.”
Moses
said to the people, “Do not be afraid; for God has come only to test you and to
put the fear of God upon you so that you do not sin.”
***
Growing
up in the South there is phrase I would hear a lot. Parents would say to their
children, ‘No, Ma’am. No, Sir, We don't do that.’ Most directly, ‘We,’
was the family, but ‘we,’ was also a cultural thing, as the phrase was likewise
said to other people’s children. It could have been easily extended to say, ‘We
as Southerns don't to that.’ ‘That,’ being anything from tossing dirt on the
playground, to a teenager talkin’ back, or as we called it, sassin'’.
Sometimes, “We don’t do that,” came in a look, where some teacher raised
her eyebrows beyond what you’d ever think her forehead could hold. Sometimes,
“We don’t do that,” came in the form of a question, “Excuse me?” and you knew
that meant you had about one second to come up with a different answer than the
one you first provided. Sometimes, the entirety of the answer to, ‘Excuse me?’
was ‘Yes, Ma’am,’ and this, ‘Yes, Ma’am,’ likewise echoed the cultural
agreement of respecting elders and formality.
At
this point in Exodus, God has already said, ‘Excuse me?’ when God provided
manna in the desert. God has already raised God’s eyebrows, when water sprang
from the rock. And now, the Israelites have still been sassin’, and God is at
that, ‘No, Ma’am, No, Sir, We don’t do that,’ stage.
God
starts out, “I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, and out of the house of slavery.”
It is God’s version of, ‘I am your parent, and I set the expectations, as long
as you are under this roof.’ And though it can sound pejorative, this reminder
is less about rank and more about relationship. We are a family, we are
community, and I have brought you out of the land of Egypt,
and put food on the table, because I love you, and when you do that thing we
don’t do, I feel like you don’t value this family or my love. I wonder how many
arguments would stop right there, if they started by first expressing how we are
family, and the basis for our relationship is for mutual support and love. That
this mutual love and support is the chief end of any set of expectations.
Some
people may call these commandments rules, and interpret out of them a policing
God. But I don’t think this is what God is about, nor do God’s actions of
consistent presence and providence maintain this theory. Here God is, and the
Israelites have been complaining up a storm, and over and over God has provided
for them. God has seen their patterns and out of this comes expectations for
their behavior. I think of the, ‘We do nots’ that I heard growing up. The only
way those, ‘We do nots,’ get formed, is because they are told over and over,
generation after generation. How many generations of parents to their children
have said, “We do not throw rocks.” There is even a Biblical witness in Jesus,
“Whoever of you has not sinned throw the first stone.” Even Jesus must remind
the people we are a, “We do not,’ society, not a, ‘You shall not,’ individuality.
Today, our New Revised Standard Version even reads, “You shall not,” but each
commentary I have read purports that this phrase is better translated, “We do
not.” Still today, we need the reminder. This is text about community, and we
have a God of relationship.
Some
may call this list commandments, but it was written as a covenant, and repeated
as a creed, a covenant which makes a promise between God and God’s people, and
a creed which is lifted up from God’s people to God. It is more than a list of,
‘you shall not,’ rules. Rules are made to be broken, but relationships are not,
especially when they include an ever present God. Moreover, each of these ten
expectations is about how to be, ‘we,’ from honoring our parents to remembering
the sabbath, to not coveting that which a neighbor has. They are smart, but
part of what makes them smart is they tell us how to be a community, and how to
worship God. And I think perhaps this is why the Decalogue has lasted, because
over and over through generations God has been present reminding us whose we
are, we are God’s family, we are we.
