Proper 19/Pentecost 17/Ordinary Time 24
Preaching
Hear My Voice
Preaching The Lectionary Psalms for Cycles A, B, C
Object:
This alternate psalm follows immediately after this morning's Old Testament Lesson, the story of the parting of the Red Sea. It contains two ancient hymns -- known, respectively, as the Song of Moses and the Song of Miriam.
Of the two, the Song of Miriam is unquestionably the oldest. It is composed of just two lines -- lines which have been incorporated into the opening of the longer Song of Moses: "Sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously; horse and rider he has thrown into the sea" (v. 21).
Both these songs may sound troubling to modern ears, because of their bloodthirsty exultation in the death of Israel's enemies. The Song of Moses positively gloats over the grim fate of the Egyptian army: "Pharaoh's chariots and his army he cast into the sea; his picked officers were sunk in the Red Sea. The floods covered them; they went down to the depths like a stone" (vv. 4-5).
This is neither a pretty nor a pleasant song. Perhaps these lines will call to mind the terrifying underwater images from the film, Saving Private Ryan. Those images of American GIs of the Normandy invasion force -- struggling to shed heavy backpacks that are dragging them to the bottom of the ocean while machine-gun bullets silently zip by, trailing tiny bubbles in their wake -- is an unforgettable image of the horror of war, and of its dreadful impact on individuals. Somewhere in ancient Egypt, many mothers wailed and keened at the deaths of their sons, drowned beneath that tsunami-like wave. Did the Lord not care about Egypt's sons as well?
Yet as troubling as these martial images are, these are songs born out of a life-or-death situation, a dilemma of desperation and fear -- fear which was suddenly and fortuitously lifted, in a way no one expected.
Some commentators have considered these songs as symbolic of greater issues, larger conflicts. In the words of Martin Luther King, Jr., "Egypt symbolized evil in the form of humiliating oppression, ungodly exploitation, and crushing domination" (Strength to Love [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981], p. 73). Expanding on King's point, T. E. Fretheim observes:
Against such an enemy, traditional weapons will not do (cf. Isa. 59:17; Eph. 6:10-20). God fights the chaos monster with "weapons" appropriate to the enemy, as in the plague cycle, from within the sphere of nature. God's activity in creation overturns that which is chaos. God's control over the waters (see Job 41) is shown in the divine use of those very forces to undo the anti-creation monster. The justice of God's created order exacts an appropriate judgment on the anticreational oppressors. (Exodus, in the Interpretation series [Louisville: John Knox Press, 1991], p. 169.)
Some in the Jewish tradition have long felt uncomfortable with the brutality of these songs. Consequently, a midrash has grown up that portrays the God of the Exodus in a more compassionate light.
Some angels are standing off to one side, watching the action as the Egyptians advance toward the water. As the last former slave sets foot on the far shore, a great cheer erupts from this spectators' gallery. The angels look on with eagerness, as the waters rise up and drown the Egyptians.
"We got them! We got them!" cry the angels. They're dancing around, clapping one another on the back.
But then there sounds another voice, the voice of God: "What do you think you're doing?" asks the Lord, angrily. "You are dismissed from my service."
The angels answer back, in their defense, "But all we did was celebrate the vanquishing of the Egyptians."
"Do you not know," responds the Lord, "that the Egyptians are my children, too?"
There are two central and powerful truths arising out of the Exodus story. The first is that, for the Israelite people, it is a transforming experience. The Israelites fled Egypt as slaves on the run, carrying only the belongings they could sling over their backs. They arrived on the other side of the sea as a people who had felt the transforming power of God, and who were now bonded together as a people of faith. As 1 Peter says -- speaking of the Christian church, but harking back to their spiritual ancestors in Israel: "Once you were not a people, but now you are God's people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy."
The second great truth is related to this. The Israelites are saved through no merit of their own. They do not bring about their salvation: God is the only true actor on this stage.
The message of Exodus is that there is no such thing as "dumb luck" -- or luck of any kind, for that matter. The Lord rules, sovereign over all, and our very lives are always in God's hands.
-- C. W.
Of the two, the Song of Miriam is unquestionably the oldest. It is composed of just two lines -- lines which have been incorporated into the opening of the longer Song of Moses: "Sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously; horse and rider he has thrown into the sea" (v. 21).
Both these songs may sound troubling to modern ears, because of their bloodthirsty exultation in the death of Israel's enemies. The Song of Moses positively gloats over the grim fate of the Egyptian army: "Pharaoh's chariots and his army he cast into the sea; his picked officers were sunk in the Red Sea. The floods covered them; they went down to the depths like a stone" (vv. 4-5).
This is neither a pretty nor a pleasant song. Perhaps these lines will call to mind the terrifying underwater images from the film, Saving Private Ryan. Those images of American GIs of the Normandy invasion force -- struggling to shed heavy backpacks that are dragging them to the bottom of the ocean while machine-gun bullets silently zip by, trailing tiny bubbles in their wake -- is an unforgettable image of the horror of war, and of its dreadful impact on individuals. Somewhere in ancient Egypt, many mothers wailed and keened at the deaths of their sons, drowned beneath that tsunami-like wave. Did the Lord not care about Egypt's sons as well?
Yet as troubling as these martial images are, these are songs born out of a life-or-death situation, a dilemma of desperation and fear -- fear which was suddenly and fortuitously lifted, in a way no one expected.
Some commentators have considered these songs as symbolic of greater issues, larger conflicts. In the words of Martin Luther King, Jr., "Egypt symbolized evil in the form of humiliating oppression, ungodly exploitation, and crushing domination" (Strength to Love [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981], p. 73). Expanding on King's point, T. E. Fretheim observes:
Against such an enemy, traditional weapons will not do (cf. Isa. 59:17; Eph. 6:10-20). God fights the chaos monster with "weapons" appropriate to the enemy, as in the plague cycle, from within the sphere of nature. God's activity in creation overturns that which is chaos. God's control over the waters (see Job 41) is shown in the divine use of those very forces to undo the anti-creation monster. The justice of God's created order exacts an appropriate judgment on the anticreational oppressors. (Exodus, in the Interpretation series [Louisville: John Knox Press, 1991], p. 169.)
Some in the Jewish tradition have long felt uncomfortable with the brutality of these songs. Consequently, a midrash has grown up that portrays the God of the Exodus in a more compassionate light.
Some angels are standing off to one side, watching the action as the Egyptians advance toward the water. As the last former slave sets foot on the far shore, a great cheer erupts from this spectators' gallery. The angels look on with eagerness, as the waters rise up and drown the Egyptians.
"We got them! We got them!" cry the angels. They're dancing around, clapping one another on the back.
But then there sounds another voice, the voice of God: "What do you think you're doing?" asks the Lord, angrily. "You are dismissed from my service."
The angels answer back, in their defense, "But all we did was celebrate the vanquishing of the Egyptians."
"Do you not know," responds the Lord, "that the Egyptians are my children, too?"
There are two central and powerful truths arising out of the Exodus story. The first is that, for the Israelite people, it is a transforming experience. The Israelites fled Egypt as slaves on the run, carrying only the belongings they could sling over their backs. They arrived on the other side of the sea as a people who had felt the transforming power of God, and who were now bonded together as a people of faith. As 1 Peter says -- speaking of the Christian church, but harking back to their spiritual ancestors in Israel: "Once you were not a people, but now you are God's people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy."
The second great truth is related to this. The Israelites are saved through no merit of their own. They do not bring about their salvation: God is the only true actor on this stage.
The message of Exodus is that there is no such thing as "dumb luck" -- or luck of any kind, for that matter. The Lord rules, sovereign over all, and our very lives are always in God's hands.
-- C. W.

