View From The Mountaintop
Sermon
Sermons On The First Readings
Series I, Cycle A
Mountains fascinate us. They tower majestically against the horizon, strong and immovable. Looking up at them from the ground is a magnificent delight, as we try to take in their imposing vastness and mystery. If we accept their defiant invitation to climb them, we are rewarded by a spectacular view. Climbing a mountain makes us feel like giants peering over entire cities lying beneath us. Many of us have our favorite memories of a mountaintop view. One of the joys of visiting Virginia in autumn is the drive between Richmond and Charlottesville. All along the way are stops that overlook valleys below with trees bursting in fall colors. Some people love the mountains so much they move to states like Colorado or Utah, just to be near them.
In the Bible, mountains are more than just breathtaking scenery. For the biblical writers, mountains were a special place. Bulging up from the earth, mountains invaded heavenly territory. Mountains were a kind of borderland between the human realm and the divine realm. When Moses received the Ten Commandments, he was on top of Mount Sinai. In Daniel chapter 2, in Nebuchadnezzar's dream, a statue represented all the kingdoms of the earth. A stone not cut by human hands destroyed the statue. Then the stone became a mountain that filled the whole earth. The mountain symbolized God's everlasting, unfading reign. In Matthew and Mark, Jesus' transfiguration takes place on a "high mountain." Holy things happened on mountains.
In our passage for this morning, Moses goes to Mount Nebo, to the top of Pisgah, where God gives him a view of the land of Canaan. This trip in chapter 34 to the top of Pisgah is actually Moses' second chance to see the view. In chapter 3, God tells Moses to go to the top of Pisgah and to look all around at the land. The tone of Moses' first trip up the mountain seems almost to be a sort of chastisement from God. God firmly tells Moses that he will not enter the land. Joshua will lead the people into the land. Moses protests, but God is adamant. This second trip up the mountain seems to be more of a reassurance from God. Moses will not cross over himself, but God assures him that his descendents will possess the land. In any case, by chapter 34, Moses appears to have accepted God's decision not to let him enter the land.
On this trip to the mountaintop, Moses sees a view like no other. The narrator tells us that Moses saw all the way to the north as far as Dan, west as far as the Mediterranean Sea, southwest to the Negev, and down to Zoar, on the southern tip of the Dead Sea. What the narrator tells us that Moses saw is not physically possible. Moses saw more than geography, however. He saw destiny. Moses saw more than real estate; he saw the fulfillment of God's promises. Way back in Exodus 3, Moses' encounter at the burning bush, God promised Moses, "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" (Exodus 3:8). In Deuteronomy 8, Moses describes the land to the people as a land with abundant water, wheat, barley, fig trees, olive trees, and honey, with iron and copper in the hills. In chapter 34, Moses climbs Pisgah to see the land he had described to the people.
Moses saw the payoff for all the years of hard work and sacrifice. Forty years of wandering in the wilderness had not been easy. Moses has had to lead the way. He has had to put up with the deprivation and the grumbling of the people. He has known doubts and questions. He has known rage at the people and the depths of despair. Somehow, in all of it, God has brought them through whatever they faced. Now comes the fulfillment, the reward, the realization of the promise.
Only Moses won't be there. When you get right down to it, that is just unfair. God denies Moses the chance to enter the Promised Land, in part because of the sin of the people (Deuteronomy 3:26) and in part because of his own sin (Deuteronomy 32:51). We might wonder why God could not show mercy, forgive Moses, and let him enter the land. As it is, Moses can do nothing more than look out at the land of promise, the land of milk and honey. He will never set foot in the Promised Land. He will never drink the refreshing water of the streams, never taste the succulent olives or the chewy figs. He will never watch the wheat and barley ripen or smell the fresh bread made from them. For Moses himself, the years of drudgery do not pay off. Moses does the hard work; someone else will enjoy the bounty of the Promised Land.
Our initial response to Moses' exclusion from the Promised Land may be frustration at the unfairness. How could God be so inflexible? Even if we cannot answer that question entirely, if we reflect on the story, we can begin to see some instruction for ourselves. On one level, the story was intended to help the people of Judah understand their time of exile. The story was written after the Babylonians had defeated Judah and taken the leaders into exile. The story was a lesson on God's punishment for Judah's sins. Just as Moses had been denied access to the land because of his sin, they had been deported away from the land because of their sin. If we look carefully, we can see how our sins keep us from entering certain promised lands.
Martin Luther King, Jr., wanted to lead the United States to a land of racial harmony, justice, and reconciliation. Perhaps the most gripping interpretation of this passage from Deuteronomy 34 in modern history is the use King made of it on the last night of his life. King was speaking in Memphis, Tennessee, on behalf of striking sanitation workers seeking better working conditions and decent wages. In his speech, King held out the promise of a better America in which oppressed people work courageously for liberation and all people live in dignity. While acknowledging that he might not get to enter the experience he had described, King closed his speech in an unmistakable allusion to this passage, "I just want to do God's will. And he's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land."1
Do not our sins keep us from that Promised Land? Do not the lack of racial justice, of repentance, of economic fairness keep us from the promised land of peace and harmony? As unyielding as we might think God's decision not to let Moses into the land of Canaan might be, isn't this story a parable about our society? We could melt the barriers between us and embrace each other as brothers and sisters if we could put away the sins of racism and injustice. We could enjoy prosperity, security, and stability if we could put away our sins. Our sins keep us on the other side of the mountain from true fellowship.
Moses is more than a negative example for us, however. He is more than a reminder that our sins block our path. He teaches us something about ministry. Moses was part of something bigger than himself. He led the people of Israel through the wilderness so that others could experience a blessing. Moses learns as early as chapter 3 of Deuteronomy that he will not enter the promised land himself. Nevertheless, he preaches his sermons to the people, exhorting them to continue to obey God. He knew he would not go into the land himself, but he wanted the mission to continue. Moses teaches us that ministry is something we give to others. Ministry is bigger than our own needs, our own blessings.
When Moses stood on Mount Pisgah looking at the promised land, he saw how his effort would bear fruit. We never know how God will use our ministries. Peter Storey, a former Methodist bishop in South Africa, tells of the ministry of an Anglican priest in the 1950s in that country. In the midst of apartheid, the priest worked faithfully in a black township named Sophiatown. When military trucks came to uproot the people living in the township and to destroy their homes, he tried to stop them. He was rebuked by his bishop and sent back to England. The priest had visited regularly an altar boy who had had tuberculosis. Even though the priest had failed to stop the outrage of the people being dispersed from their homes, his ministry had a longer lasting effect than he could have imagined. The altar boy's name was Desmond Tutu. Storey writes that only at the end of apartheid could the full impact of that priest's ministry be appreciated. As Storey reflects, just shortly after the demise of apartheid, "[the priest's] impact on South Africa through Desmond Tutu is immeasurable. There is a direct line between his witness in Sophiatown and this moment."2
How wonderful it would be if we could climb a metaphorical mountain to see all the lives this church will touch through the coming years! How many children will learn Bible stories here? How many hungry people will be fed through the money we give? How many broken hearts will be comforted by the fellowship this church creates? How many youth will make a commitment to a life of service and ministry? How many barriers of injustice will come down because of the ministry of this church? How many couples will start life together surrounded by a loving community?
Sometimes we could use a trip to the top of that metaphorical mountain. If we could get a panoramic view of all that our ministry could accomplish, that might keep us going. If we could see from the mountaintop, maybe that would keep us going when the committee meetings get long and we are tired. A view from the mountaintop might keep us going when the money is tight. A view from the mountaintop might keep us going when the disagreements heat up. A view from the mountaintop might keep us going through discouragement, fatigue, and disappointment in our ministry.
We may not physically climb Mount Nebo, the top of Pisgah, to see all that this church can and will accomplish. We can trust God with our time, our work, our effort, our money, our sweat, and even our pain. We give this ministry away for the blessing of others. We trust that God will use us and work through us.
____________
1. "I See The Promised Land," in A Testament Of Hope: The Essential Writings Of Martin Luther King, Jr., ed. James Melvin Washington (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1986), p. 286.
2. Peter Storey, With God In The Crucible: Preaching Costly Discipleship (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2002). The quote is found in an online newsletter, Preaching Now, Vol. 1, No. 34, December 10, 2002, p. 2., www.Preaching.com.
In the Bible, mountains are more than just breathtaking scenery. For the biblical writers, mountains were a special place. Bulging up from the earth, mountains invaded heavenly territory. Mountains were a kind of borderland between the human realm and the divine realm. When Moses received the Ten Commandments, he was on top of Mount Sinai. In Daniel chapter 2, in Nebuchadnezzar's dream, a statue represented all the kingdoms of the earth. A stone not cut by human hands destroyed the statue. Then the stone became a mountain that filled the whole earth. The mountain symbolized God's everlasting, unfading reign. In Matthew and Mark, Jesus' transfiguration takes place on a "high mountain." Holy things happened on mountains.
In our passage for this morning, Moses goes to Mount Nebo, to the top of Pisgah, where God gives him a view of the land of Canaan. This trip in chapter 34 to the top of Pisgah is actually Moses' second chance to see the view. In chapter 3, God tells Moses to go to the top of Pisgah and to look all around at the land. The tone of Moses' first trip up the mountain seems almost to be a sort of chastisement from God. God firmly tells Moses that he will not enter the land. Joshua will lead the people into the land. Moses protests, but God is adamant. This second trip up the mountain seems to be more of a reassurance from God. Moses will not cross over himself, but God assures him that his descendents will possess the land. In any case, by chapter 34, Moses appears to have accepted God's decision not to let him enter the land.
On this trip to the mountaintop, Moses sees a view like no other. The narrator tells us that Moses saw all the way to the north as far as Dan, west as far as the Mediterranean Sea, southwest to the Negev, and down to Zoar, on the southern tip of the Dead Sea. What the narrator tells us that Moses saw is not physically possible. Moses saw more than geography, however. He saw destiny. Moses saw more than real estate; he saw the fulfillment of God's promises. Way back in Exodus 3, Moses' encounter at the burning bush, God promised Moses, "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" (Exodus 3:8). In Deuteronomy 8, Moses describes the land to the people as a land with abundant water, wheat, barley, fig trees, olive trees, and honey, with iron and copper in the hills. In chapter 34, Moses climbs Pisgah to see the land he had described to the people.
Moses saw the payoff for all the years of hard work and sacrifice. Forty years of wandering in the wilderness had not been easy. Moses has had to lead the way. He has had to put up with the deprivation and the grumbling of the people. He has known doubts and questions. He has known rage at the people and the depths of despair. Somehow, in all of it, God has brought them through whatever they faced. Now comes the fulfillment, the reward, the realization of the promise.
Only Moses won't be there. When you get right down to it, that is just unfair. God denies Moses the chance to enter the Promised Land, in part because of the sin of the people (Deuteronomy 3:26) and in part because of his own sin (Deuteronomy 32:51). We might wonder why God could not show mercy, forgive Moses, and let him enter the land. As it is, Moses can do nothing more than look out at the land of promise, the land of milk and honey. He will never set foot in the Promised Land. He will never drink the refreshing water of the streams, never taste the succulent olives or the chewy figs. He will never watch the wheat and barley ripen or smell the fresh bread made from them. For Moses himself, the years of drudgery do not pay off. Moses does the hard work; someone else will enjoy the bounty of the Promised Land.
Our initial response to Moses' exclusion from the Promised Land may be frustration at the unfairness. How could God be so inflexible? Even if we cannot answer that question entirely, if we reflect on the story, we can begin to see some instruction for ourselves. On one level, the story was intended to help the people of Judah understand their time of exile. The story was written after the Babylonians had defeated Judah and taken the leaders into exile. The story was a lesson on God's punishment for Judah's sins. Just as Moses had been denied access to the land because of his sin, they had been deported away from the land because of their sin. If we look carefully, we can see how our sins keep us from entering certain promised lands.
Martin Luther King, Jr., wanted to lead the United States to a land of racial harmony, justice, and reconciliation. Perhaps the most gripping interpretation of this passage from Deuteronomy 34 in modern history is the use King made of it on the last night of his life. King was speaking in Memphis, Tennessee, on behalf of striking sanitation workers seeking better working conditions and decent wages. In his speech, King held out the promise of a better America in which oppressed people work courageously for liberation and all people live in dignity. While acknowledging that he might not get to enter the experience he had described, King closed his speech in an unmistakable allusion to this passage, "I just want to do God's will. And he's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land."1
Do not our sins keep us from that Promised Land? Do not the lack of racial justice, of repentance, of economic fairness keep us from the promised land of peace and harmony? As unyielding as we might think God's decision not to let Moses into the land of Canaan might be, isn't this story a parable about our society? We could melt the barriers between us and embrace each other as brothers and sisters if we could put away the sins of racism and injustice. We could enjoy prosperity, security, and stability if we could put away our sins. Our sins keep us on the other side of the mountain from true fellowship.
Moses is more than a negative example for us, however. He is more than a reminder that our sins block our path. He teaches us something about ministry. Moses was part of something bigger than himself. He led the people of Israel through the wilderness so that others could experience a blessing. Moses learns as early as chapter 3 of Deuteronomy that he will not enter the promised land himself. Nevertheless, he preaches his sermons to the people, exhorting them to continue to obey God. He knew he would not go into the land himself, but he wanted the mission to continue. Moses teaches us that ministry is something we give to others. Ministry is bigger than our own needs, our own blessings.
When Moses stood on Mount Pisgah looking at the promised land, he saw how his effort would bear fruit. We never know how God will use our ministries. Peter Storey, a former Methodist bishop in South Africa, tells of the ministry of an Anglican priest in the 1950s in that country. In the midst of apartheid, the priest worked faithfully in a black township named Sophiatown. When military trucks came to uproot the people living in the township and to destroy their homes, he tried to stop them. He was rebuked by his bishop and sent back to England. The priest had visited regularly an altar boy who had had tuberculosis. Even though the priest had failed to stop the outrage of the people being dispersed from their homes, his ministry had a longer lasting effect than he could have imagined. The altar boy's name was Desmond Tutu. Storey writes that only at the end of apartheid could the full impact of that priest's ministry be appreciated. As Storey reflects, just shortly after the demise of apartheid, "[the priest's] impact on South Africa through Desmond Tutu is immeasurable. There is a direct line between his witness in Sophiatown and this moment."2
How wonderful it would be if we could climb a metaphorical mountain to see all the lives this church will touch through the coming years! How many children will learn Bible stories here? How many hungry people will be fed through the money we give? How many broken hearts will be comforted by the fellowship this church creates? How many youth will make a commitment to a life of service and ministry? How many barriers of injustice will come down because of the ministry of this church? How many couples will start life together surrounded by a loving community?
Sometimes we could use a trip to the top of that metaphorical mountain. If we could get a panoramic view of all that our ministry could accomplish, that might keep us going. If we could see from the mountaintop, maybe that would keep us going when the committee meetings get long and we are tired. A view from the mountaintop might keep us going when the money is tight. A view from the mountaintop might keep us going when the disagreements heat up. A view from the mountaintop might keep us going through discouragement, fatigue, and disappointment in our ministry.
We may not physically climb Mount Nebo, the top of Pisgah, to see all that this church can and will accomplish. We can trust God with our time, our work, our effort, our money, our sweat, and even our pain. We give this ministry away for the blessing of others. We trust that God will use us and work through us.
____________
1. "I See The Promised Land," in A Testament Of Hope: The Essential Writings Of Martin Luther King, Jr., ed. James Melvin Washington (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1986), p. 286.
2. Peter Storey, With God In The Crucible: Preaching Costly Discipleship (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2002). The quote is found in an online newsletter, Preaching Now, Vol. 1, No. 34, December 10, 2002, p. 2., www.Preaching.com.
