Scriptural Sermons

Pharaoh, King of Egypt, enslaved the People of Israel. It was not out, as you might assume, out of cruelty. It was, rather, out of judiciousness. The People of Israel were not Egyptians. They were foreigners. They were the rough equivalent of what we today would call the undocumented. So now as then they were deemed to be threats. Add to this that the People of Israel grew increasingly numerous, as numerous even as the Egyptians themselves. This intensified the threat. In those numbers they could simply take over. Or Egypt’s enemies could induce them to fight for them, as a kind of built in fifth column. Pharaoh, King of Egypt, had to act. And so he enslaved the People of Israel. It was the judicious thing to do. But his judiciousness was not rewarded. In slavery, unpredictably, their numbers only increased. Pharaoh’s patience with the People of Israel grew thin. Judiciousness then crossed over to cruelty. He ordered the Hebrew midwives to murder the infant boys as they delivered them. That would thin their ranks. But the Hebrew midwives refused to do so, and with their refusal, civil disobedience was born. They chose to heed God not man. But Pharaoh King of Egypt was not so easily undone. He ordered his army to search out the infant boys and throw them into the Nile. Thereafter, cruelty no doubt took on a life of its own. Pharaoh King of Egypt rightly ranks with the likes of Caligula, Nero, Hitler, Stalin, and Mao. One wonders why it is that so many who rise to power become murderous and maniacal tyrants. The human cost - the suffering and misery and despair and tragedy -- are unimaginable and incalculable. Against this backdrop, a woman from the house of Levi gave birth to a healthy and beautiful infant boy. It would normally be the occasion for celebration and joy, but it was for her the occasion for anguish. When a child is born, a mother’s first instinct is protectiveness. But how could she possibly protect him? She thought desperately at first that she could hide him, and she did so for several months, but that could not go on forever. He could any day be discovered. The lesser of two evils was to abandon him to his fate. So she plastered a reed basket with bitumen and pitch, and she cast her hope upon the water. Low and behold, the daughter of Pharaoh happened upon the basket. She peered into it, beheld the crying infant, and she had compassion. The daughter of Pharaoh has never received the appreciation and respect she deserves. She is, inexplicably, overlooked. What she did was exemplary. Normally when people enslave others, they find justification for it. The enslaved are not deemed the equal of their enslavers. They are deemed subhuman. Slavery, therefore, is a necessity. More than this, it is morally right. That’s what the South advanced in this country, after all. But the daughter of Pharaoh did not fall prey to justification. She had compassion. And she acted upon that compassion. Here is an important reminder. It is not enough to have compassion. To have compassion, or any other altruistic emotion for that matter, does not make you a good person. You must act upon it. If you have compassion and you do not act upon it, that makes you decidedly less than a good person. As Martin Luther King, Jr. famously declared, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” And here is something truly astounding. Her act was to adopt him. That was, to say at the least, a courageous thing to do. It certainly would not have put her in good stead with her father. I can just imagine it. “Father, I have a surprise for you. You have a new grandson.” Such an announcement could only have dumbfounded him, but his confusion would have given way to horror as she went on, “I have adopted an infant boy from among your slaves.” If nothing else, we can now set the record straight. We can give Pharaoh’s daughter the appreciation and respect that she deserves. But we can do more than that. As I said, she is exemplary, and so we can follow her example. We can show compassion to those who have cast their hope upon the water. Yes, a mother forced by dire circumstance to give her child up for adoption, hoping that her child will be loved and cherished. But too, one with an atypical identity, hoping to be accepted for who he or she really is. One of a different race, creed, or income level seeking to relocate, hoping not that she will be welcomed, for that would be too high a hope; but hoping she will be at least be tolerated. One who has transgressed, hoping he will be forgiven. One who has something difficult to impart, hoping she will be understood. We can show compassion for those who have cast their hope upon the water. For someone greater, much greater than Pharaoh’s daughter did the same. “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on us!” “My daughter has just died. Come and lay your hand on her, that she may live.” “Even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” “Jesus, come before my son dies.” “Lord, if you choose, you can make me clean.” “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David, for my daughter is tormented by a demon.” “Lord, have mercy on my son, for he is an epileptic and suffers terribly.” “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” They cast their hope on him. And he showed compassion for them all. And when we cast our hope on him, he will show compassion for us -- unlimited even by a cross. Amen.

Exodus 20:1-17 John 20:24-30

We have all heard the old cliché that patience is a virtue, but for Christians this is more than an old cliché. For Christians this is a literal fact. Patience is indeed listed among the Christian virtues. There are seven in all – chastity, temperance, diligence, kindness, charity, humility, and patience. Patience is then something to which we as Christians must aspire if we are to be virtuous. And who among us does not want to be virtuous? But what is patience, exactly? It’s a word we banter around all the time. Be patient! we say again and again. But it's one of those words that if someone puts you on the spot and asks you to define it, you might find yourself stammering. I have given the matter some thought. Here is my own working definition. Patience means bearing or enduring something that is unpleasant in calmness, peace, and wisdom. Patience means bearing or enduring something that is unpleasant without resort to retaliation or complaint. But no sooner than we have a working definition than it becomes necessary to issue a few caveats, because there are cases in which patience is not applicable. You could say there are cases in which patience is not a virtue. Patience is not a virtue if we happen to fall victim to social injustice. This is because social injustice does not right itself by dint of some natural moral progress that is automatically unfolding. Social injustice is righted by brave, tireless, costly, conscientious action. To be patient, then, if we happen to fall victim to social injustice is simply to perpetuate our victimization. And too, patience is not a virtue in the face of evil. Evil and its foot soldiers – violence, hatred, and cruelty -- are like murderers on the rampage, causing senseless mayhem and suffering in their wake. Evil is an urgent danger that must be met with immediate counter force to stem the destruction it causes. And too, patience is not a virtue in case of abusive relationships. Dysfunctional individuals are insidious. They very often aren't known to themselves, and so they imperviously suck functional individuals into enabling their own abuse. The effect is life destroying. No, once an abusive relationship is recognized as such, timely evacuation is the necessary course. No, patience does not apply in cases such as these, in which patience is extolled as a virtue to sanction vice. But these caveats aside, let’s return to my own working definition of patience: Patience means bearing or enduring something that is unpleasant in calmness, peace, and wisdom. Patience means bearing or enduring something that is unpleasant without resort to complaint or retaliation. Now, we've seen cases where patience does not apply; but where does it apply? It applies to the unpleasantness of everyday life – the annoying relative, the long wait, the inconsiderate driver, the chronic medical condition, the incompetent clerk, the grieving process, the difficult personality, the over scheduled day, the tough transition, the road back, the hassles, the headaches these kinds of things. But just hearing this list, makes us a bit….dare I say it…impatient. How do we summon that peace, calm, and wisdom, how do we forswear complaint or retaliation? To put it simply, how do we practice patience? This is the real question. Well if the Bible is any judge, we do it by, of all things, reminders that we make to ourselves. Take a look at Moses. Think about his life for a minute. He happened to have been, as the Bible puts it, snatched like a brand from the fire. His countrymen had been enslaved by the Egyptians. In enslavement their population exploded, and they came to be seen by the Egyptians as a threat. So Pharaoh decided to thin their ranks by killing their infant sons. By a fluke Moses' mother defied Pharaoh and hid her son from Pharaoh; by a fluke Pharaoh's daughter discovered and adopted him. By a fluke then, Moses, and he alone of all his enslaved countrymen, grew up with every imaginable privilege and advantage. This allowed Moses to cultivate self- actualization. You may have heard of Maslow's pyramid. Maslow was a psychologist who believed that certain needs had to be met in order for one to cultivate self- actualization. First there were the basic needs - food and water. Then there were the safety needs - security and shelter. Then there were the social needs - family, friends and community. After that there were the needs that built self esteem like achievement and mastery. And after all these needs were met, one could cultivate self-actualization - that is to say, one could be autonomous and free, one could be creative in coordination with one's basic being. The point is - Moses was at the top of Maslow's pyramid. He had cultivated self- actualization. But his fellow countrymen were at the bottom Maslow's pyramid, struggling to get their most basic physical needs met. To put it bluntly, Moses was refined; his fellow countrymen were rabble. And because Moses was refined, the Lord chose him to deliver his fellow countrymen from Egyptian slavery. The Lord hedged his bets that Moses would succeed. He orchestrated through Moses supernatural interventions - plagues, pillars of cloud and fire, a parted sea. And so Moses delivered his fellow countrymen from Egyptian slavery. But it didn't make his fellow countrymen any less rabble. They continued to fret about their most basic physical needs - and did they ever complain about it to Moses! They had not ascended Maslow's pyramid. They did not comprehend the need for short term sacrifices for the sake of long term goals. They could not see the big picture, much less read their situation theologically. They had no self- restraint. They had no gratitude. They were out for what they could get. And the complaints kept coming. They made Moses' life unpleasant. Yet the face of it, Moses practiced patience through reminders he made to himself. “These people have known hardship that I haven't. They just aren’t there yet. If I don’t help them, who will? God is on the move. He will see me through. This is how our future as a people is being wrought.” Or take a look at Paul: Like Moses he was set apart from his people, but in his case it was not due to a series of flukes. It was due to his intellectual acumen and his personality. Due to his intellectual acumen he actually “got” the Christ event. Due to his personality - we'll call him a firebrand - he was in a position to do something about it. But the problem was that none of the other players around him recognized his personality and intellectual acumen for what they were. All the other players around him thought that they themselves "got" the Christ event. All the other players around him thought that they had the personality to do something about it. And so all the other players around him went off half-cocked, interfering with Paul's work, undermining him, contradicting him, defying him. They made Paul's life unpleasant. Yet in the face of it Paul practiced patience through reminders he made to himself. “I am a true apostle. God revealed to me the risen Christ on the road to Damascus. God sent me. My opponents don't know that they don't know. And so I can and I must become all things to all people. I must get into their head and into their hearts if I am to help them to know as I know so that Christ may be served.” So then, how do we practice patience? We do it with like reminders we make to ourselves. God is good. Life is worth living. I have heard the upward call of Jesus Christ. My life overflows with blessings. Most people on this planet would love to change places with me. I have enough to eat and a roof over my head. I live in safe environment. I have been loved. I don't know the realities that my detractors face. We are all up against our own struggles. It's not all about me. Whatever reminders work for us, we practice patience with the reminders we make to ourselves. Thus far I've said much about patience. What it is: It is bearing or enduring something that is unpleasant in calmness, peace, and wisdom. It is bearing or enduring something that is unpleasant without resort to retaliation or complaint. What it is not: It is not acquiescing to social injustice, evil, or abusive relationships. Where it applies: It applies to the day to day unpleasantness which is a permanent fixture of the human condition. How it is practiced: It is practiced by reminders that we make to ourselves. But there's one more thing, one more question. Why is patience practiced? Why is patience practiced? Brace yourselves for the answer. It’s about God’s nose. Yes, his nose. His nose was long. Pinocchio was not the only one. I confess that when I learned that I was required to master biblical Hebrew for academic degrees, I was less than thrilled. But once I actually mastered it, I discovered that reading the Old Testament in its original language is fascinating, yes, but mostly it is very surprising. One of the things that is surprising is that Hebrew idioms, figures of speech, expressions, and the like are not translated into English. Translators have concluded that they would stymie the English reader. So for example, if the Hebrew read, "he kicked the bucket," it would be translated simply, "he died." One of the most famous quotes from the Bible is from the book of Exodus. You all know it, "The Lord, the compassionate and gracious God is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love." "God is slow to anger" in Hebrew really reads, "God is long of nose." Now we read about the arm of the Lord, the Lord's right hand, the face of the Lord, but God's long nose? But in fact God's long nose is an idiom for God's patience. This famous quote gives expression to one of God's central attributes, and one of God's central attributes is patience. So why do we practice patience? Because God practices patience with us. He practices patience with us to the extent that in the fullness of time he gave us his own beloved son, even let us have our hateful way with him, so that in the wake of our hatred, we would stand the chance to become more like him. God practices patience with us. May we practice patience with one another. Amen.

Lucky Moses. Lucky People of Israel. There they were, endeavoring to make good their escape from Egyptian bondage, when they found themselves pinned against the Red Sea with Pharaoh and the Egyptian army advancing upon them -- six hundred chariots strong. The conditions of existence pressed hard upon them. And what happened next? God parted the Red Sea, and they indeed made good their escape from Egyptian bondage. Lucky Moses. Lucky people of Israel. For they were the beneficiaries of a miracle. Would that we were so lucky that when the conditions of existence press hard upon us, we were the beneficiaries of miracles. We are not likely to find ourselves pinned against the Red Sea any time soon, but say, when other conditions of existence press hard upon us -- like when we are afflicted by an illness, or when we suffer a loss – of a job or a relationship for instance; or when we fall victim to prejudice or discrimination or insult; would that we were so lucky that we were the beneficiaries of miracles. Moses. People of Israel. I’ve got three words for you. Must. Be. Nice. The rest of us poor stiffs are – when the conditions of life press hard upon us - left to go it alone. But lest we stomp off in a huff, perhaps the matter isn’t as clear cut as it first appears. Perhaps it bears further consideration. The people of Israel, as the book of Exodus reports it, had been in Egyptian bondage for 430 years. 430 years of slavery. There was, for the vast majority of those slaves, no end in sight. Generation upon generation came and went with never an opportunity, never a break, never a hope. For centuries, their lives were cheap and hard and short, scarcely even worth living. Then, finally, as Exodus reports it, God remembered his covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. It was about time, after all. And what did God then do? He raised up the unlikely Moses. Yes, the unlikely Moses. Moses has a great deal of posthumous prestige, but we must underscore the word posthumous. In his day, Moses was somewhat lacking in prestige. Moses himself knew that he was not the man for the job. He, in fact, tried to get himself off the hook. He kept questioning God over and over again as to whether God had made some kind of mistake in electing him, and after God assured him that he was pretty sure he had the right guy, Moses began making excuses for himself. He wasn’t much of a speaker. He was lacking in eloquence. Who would follow a man who tripped over his words? After God gave him further assurance, Moses downright balked. After God finally forced Moses to the helm, the people of Israel showed him no respect. They complained against him nonstop. What happened, by way of example, when, pinned against the Red Sea, they looked up and saw the Egyptians advancing upon them? They blamed Moses and didn't spare the sarcasm, “Were there not enough graves in Egypt? Is that why you dragged us out on this suicide mission in the middle of nowhere?” And even the parting of the Red Sea itself was not as Cecil B. DeMille would have us to believe. The book of Exodus reports that the Red Sea was driven back by a strong east wind that blew overnight leaving a damp bed of mud. The People of Israel ventured across, but the Egyptians in their chariots couldn’t follow. That’s the problem with chariots. Those narrow wheels make them fast, but they can’t handle the mud. Their wheels got clogged. All this calls into question the nature of the miracle of which Moses and the People of Israel were the beneficiaries. Sure, they were the beneficiaries of a miracle, but it wasn't the stuff of fairy tales and magic tricks. The miracle must be considered in its real life context. The miracle took place amidst intractable systems of injustice and oppression. It took place amidst unworthy individuals. It took place amidst dysfunction dynamics. It took place in accordance with natural laws. It took place, literally and figuratively, in the muck and the mire. But here’s the thing. In that muck, in that mire, they knew they had been the beneficiaries of a miracle because they saw those events, and all events, through the eyes of faith. Their faith saw that God was active in their midst -- on the move, delivering them at last. This is why Exodus reports God’s actions so robustly and emphatically. Faith is confident of these things, even though it is the evidence of things not seen. Bring on the muck. Bring on the mire. Faith sees right through it. Lucky Moses. Lucky people of Israel. Lucky us. For we are all the beneficiary of miracles, albeit miracles that take place in the muck and the mire. We are afflicted by an illness. Muck and mire. There is the shock. There is the panic. There is the chaos. There is the fear. And then there is the illness itself – and new unwanted realities around doctors and nurses and hospitals and treatments. But faith can see newfound empathy for others who have borne our like afflictions. Faith can see a deepening appreciation for all we have taken for granted. Faith can see Christ the healer, who holds the promise of restoration, if not in this life then in the next, when through him incomparable glory will be revealed. And we are the beneficiary of a miracle. We suffer loss of job or relationship. Muck and mire. We deeply miss and grieve something that defined us, something that made us feel safe and secure, something that gave us status and standing, something that made us feel useful. But faith can see that letting go is the highest expression of acceptance. Faith can see that there is always a second chance and a new beginning. Faith can see that our true vocation and relationality is as children of God and disciples of Jesus Christ. And we are the beneficiary of a miracle. We fall victim to prejudice or discrimination or insult. Muck and mire. Anger wells up in us - anger at their fear and hatred, and anger at ourselves for accepting their definition of us, for succumbing to feelings of inadequacy and insecurity that sap our confidence and power to act. But faith can see that even in our faltering resistance to injustice, we are taking a stand for justice and that taking a stand for justice is a life well lived. Faith can see that change does not come overnight, but that change does come. Faith can see that God esteems the life he creates in all of its diversity, and no one, and I mean no one, can rightly rob us of the dignity that God has bestowed upon us. And we are the beneficiary of a miracle. Friends, in the muck and mire of our own lives and of life in general, God is performing miracles, miracles of which we are the beneficiaries, but we need to the eyes of faith to see them. Because the eyes of faith are everything. They are everything. Without them, all we have is the conditions of life, pressing so hard upon us that we risk being crushed by them. Be reminded of the Christ. Muck and mire to the nth degree. His birth? It took place under Roman oppression -- only a hair's breadth better then Egyptian bondage. It took place around a messy pregnancy. It took place in a stable. But this is how God became incarnate. His death? It took place on the most effective instrument of torture that the Roman oppressors devised, and Jesus' screams in agony bore witness to this. But this is how God redeemed the human race. His resurrection? It took place amidst utter pandemonium - fear, disbelief, doubt. It was a comedy of errors minus the comedy. But this is how God bequeathed upon the human race eternity. And in this way the whole of creation became the beneficiary of God's greatest miracle. May we pray this morning for the eyes of faith, eyes that are the lamps of our bodies, that our bodies be full of light. Amen.

In the wake of the release of the blockbuster movie: Avengers: Endgame I’ve noted three distinct modes of response. The first mode of response includes people who have never paid any attention to any of the Avengers movies released over the last ten years and aren’t about to spark an interest now. They are supremely indifferent. The second mode of response includes people who jumped on the bandwagon late in the day. The hype is such that they don’t want to miss out, so in preparation they perhaps went back and watched Black Panther or Infinity Wars so they would not appear total green horns. They are cousins of fair weather fans. The third mode of response involves people who are hard core. They have seen most if not all of the twenty plus Avenger movies, many several times. They counted the days until the movie came out, and to pass the time while they waited they ranked their favorite Avengers in order or they hypothesized as to how Thanos would meet his demise. My son Herry and I fall into the third mode of response. I actually pulled Herry out of school so we could see it the Friday morning it came out. My note to his school offered no apologies. “Dear Attendance Office,” I wrote. “Herry will not be in school on Friday. He is not experiencing flu-like symptoms. Rather, we are watching the first performance of Avengers: Endgame. I am hopeful you will excuse his absence.” I never imagined I would be the type who would be into these kinds of films. Herry, yes...me, no. They are about as cerebral as a roller coaster ride. But I think I like them so much because the superheroes and villains are pure, unalloyed distillates of good and evil. And we always know where lies the victory. I guess in the last analysis, I like them so much because they are pure escapism. Because let’s face it. There are no pure and unalloyed distillates of good and evil out there. That’s not our reality. Our reality is more ambiguous. We still know where lies the victory, but the way it plays out is more murky. Take Moses for instance. When God called him he was, to put it bluntly, not particularly into God. Why would he be? He was raised by Pharaoh’s daughter. Ergo, she was an Egyptian. We can presume she did not send him to rabbinical school. As for his countrymen who were in slavery, they were in no position to maintain any religious formation. They were just trying to stay alive. Why would he be into God? No one had introduced him. At any rate, Moses’ position in Egypt became untenable. Imagine your countrymen enslaved and you living in the lap of luxury; in effect colluding with the enemy. That wasn’t going to end well for him, and it didn’t. Moses ended up fleeing for his life, but he landed on his feet. He found a wife, had a son, and got a job working for his father in law. Yes, Moses might not have been into God, but God was into him. Moses was minding his own business one day when suddenly a flaming bush appeared before him and from it boomed the thunderous voice of God; “I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. 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…..So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.” Moses looked around to see who it was that God was addressing in this fashion. There was no one there but him. “You mean me?” He asked. “Yes,” God continued, unperturbed. “I mean you.” “Are you positive?” Moses asked. God continued, unperturbed. “Fear not! For I will be with you.” God tried to continue with his lofty pronouncements, but Moses stopped him. “Forgive the interruption,” he said. “What if no one goes along with this gambit of yours?” God continued unperturbed. He gave Moses three signs that would insure his gambit’s success - a snake that could turn into a staff, a hand that could turn leprous, and water that could turn into blood. At this point, Moses began to sweat. “God’s armed me with a rabbit and a hat,” he thought to himself. “He’s setting me up for failure.” He started wiggling harder and harder to get off the hook. “Look God,” he said, “in case you haven’t noticed I trip over my tongue every time I open my mouth. You really think someone who stammers and stutters has creds in a situation such as this?” God continued unperturbed. “Not to worry,” he assured Moses; “I myself will put the words in your mouth.” At this point Moses was through negotiating. He downright refused. “Talk to the hand, God, because it’s not happening.” God finally grew perturbed, and Moses lost the showdown. This is how it all started. This is not exactly the stuff of Iron Man and Captain America. Talk about ambiguous. Talk about murky. And the tiger didn’t change his stripes, so the sailing was not smooth. Moses returned to Egypt grudgingly whereupon his intervention got the slaves into trouble with their Egyptian overlords. If you’re a slave, it’s a good day when you merely toil all day. It’s a bad day when your quota is increased and you’re beaten because you don’t make it. As the slaves yelled at Moses, Moses yelled over his shoulder at God that this was proof positive that he could not get the job done because he was not the man for the job. God sent, via Moses, ten plagues with which to afflict the Egyptians and wear down their resolve, and Moses and the slaves were finally able to make their getaway, but then the road trip to the Promised Land was hell on wheels. You think Moses complained, you should have heard the people. But at the end of the day Moses did exactly as God had called him to do. He delivered his people from Egyptian slavery. No, he wasn’t the stuff of superheroes, but he got the job done. Amidst the ambiguity. Amidst the murkiness. Despite himself. Despite the people. Despite the discord. Despite the mishaps. Despite the setbacks. Despite the mistakes. Despite the disappointment. Despite the frustration. Despite his attitude. Despite his inexperience. Despite it all. He persevered. He kept at it. He kept going -- step by step, moving in the right direction. And he got the job done. And when he did, the ambiguity became just a bit less ambiguous. The murkiness became just a little bit less murky. There was a bit of order where there was once just chaos, a bit of formation where there was once just dissolution, a bit of clarity where there was once just confusion. He got the job done. So maybe he was the right man for the job after all. And Moses was no solitary case. By no means. Abraham, Issac, Jacob, Joseph, Joshua, Samuel, Saul, David, Hosea, Jeremiah, Isaiah. It was just the same with them all. Oh, and the disciples. We must not forget them. Theirs was a worst case scenario. The one true thing that Peter said was, “Depart from me Lord, for I am a sinful man.” Yes he was. He was a sinful man. But the Lord did not depart from him. He knew that despite his brashness, despite his impulsivity, despite his cluelessness, despite his weakness, despite his faltering, that he would get the job done, that he was the right man for the job. He knew what they all teach us here this morning -- that God does not call the equipped, God equips the called. That means that we can get the job done. That means that we are the right men and women for the job. So let’s get to it. Amen.