Why Did You Bring Us Out Of Egypt?
Sermon
Sermons On The First Readings
Series II, Cycle A
Object:
I am a baby boomer. I am part of that generation that emerged following World War II. Yes, we're the ones who will soon be clogging the social security system. We're the ones who climbed to adulthood during the 1960s. We grooved to the Beatles and rocked to the Rolling Stones. We got political and protested a war, and many of us -- many more than ever before -- went to college. We were the ones who were going to change the world. Well, so much for good intentions. Some things, though, did change during those times.
Perhaps the most significant thing that shifted during those years was the way people trusted their leaders. Prior to the '60s, or more precisely, prior to the Vietnam War and Watergate, there was a deep and abiding trust in those who were our leaders. I can recall my parents and grandparents reflecting that trust and doing their duty as they served in all manner of civic services. From the military to volunteer fire fighters to helping out at schools and summer camps, people did their part for the greater good. For the most part, they did that because of this trust.
That trust unraveled in the wake of the 1960s. For good or ill, the generations that have lined up since then lack trust in government, in civic organizations, in church, and beyond. Check with any group that depends upon volunteer labor. Look at the scores of organizations and groups that have receded and even disappeared as the folk who have matured over the last fifty years have turned and walked away.
We don't much like our leaders. Whether it's presidents, congress, governors, mayors, or even pastors ... we just don't trust them anymore. We are the perfect reflection of the people of Israel as they are described in this passage from Exodus. If we follow anyone, we do it grumbling every step of the way. Leaders are to be mistrusted and their motives are to be questioned. Indeed, some folk make it their business to be certain that no leaders can rise up to move the people. Anyone who tries to step into roles of leadership becomes a target, and if that person has any skeletons in his or her closet, they will be revealed.
The truth is that we whine a lot. We complain endlessly and are strikingly similar to the Israelites as they shook their fists at Moses and shouted, "Why did you bring us out of Egypt, anyway? Did you lead us out here so we would die of thirst?" No one is suggesting that blind, unquestioning trust is a good thing. Indeed, a healthy skepticism can save us from those who do not, in fact, have our best interests at heart. Neither can it be argued that everyone who tries to assume leadership is worthy of it. We need, both in government and in the church, to examine those who would lead us in order to determine their fitness. But once this is done, we need to offer up a little bit of trust. We need to be willing to accept leadership.
The current climate in our culture makes this acceptance difficult at best. Cynicism and mistrust permeate our lives these days and erode the mortar that holds us together as community. Who can blame Moses for running to God in frustration and fear? He lays it out with painful clarity before God. In fact, he "cries out" to the Lord, "What shall I do with this people? They are almost ready to stone me." God, of course, leads Moses and the people to the place where the water springs from the rock and things calm down for the present.
It seems we have much in common with this Exodus people. Not only do we whine and complain and fail to trust in our leaders, we are also -- like them -- wandering in the wilderness. Our wilderness, though, is not the Sinai desert. Our thirst does not come from a lack of water, nor our hunger from too little food.
The wilderness in which we wander these days is one of our own making.
It is a frightening landscape in which we find ourselves etched and carved by this epidemic of cynicism and doubt; this pervasive mood of mistrust and fear. The thirst from which we suffer is one caused by a runaway sense of individualism and narcissism. We are bombarded with messages that tell us we must meet our own needs before meeting the needs of others. From the news, to television, to film, and back again we hear and see the story of the rugged individualist who trusts no one and does whatever it takes to get what he wants or thinks he needs.
Our spirits are parched by the lack of community and the trust that makes such joinings possible. We hunger for a vision and a direction, and yet are unable to move because we are unable to trust.
What happens, we ask, if we trust someone and they betray us? What happens if we love someone and they hurt us? What happens if we follow a leader and that leader turns out to be leading us where we cannot go? What happens then?
Let me say this.
If you trust, your trust is certain -- sooner or later -- to be betrayed. But life without trust is far more desolate than any pain of betrayal. If you love, the person you love will wound and hurt you sooner or later. Humans are imperfect. But the beauty and wonder of love far outweighs any pain that comes from love's wounding. All those who step into leadership are also human and imperfect.
Take Moses as our example! He was wanted for murder, a questionable character under even the best circumstances. Martin Luther King Jr., it has been learned, was less than perfect in his life. But still, it is clear that he was a man of God sent to lead God's people out of the sin of racism. Indeed, look at the people who God tends to lift up for leadership. Was Saint Paul worthy of the trust of the early church? Hardly. He was their chief persecutor! Our leaders are rarely, if ever, of perfect character. They, like us, are imperfect people in search of a perfect wonder.
You see, stepping into the waters of trust and openness does not in any way ensure that we will be unmolested in this life. It is a lot like faith. In fact, it involves faith. Our belief in God and our trust in God's word through Jesus Christ doesn't constitute an insurance policy against the vagaries of this life. I believe in God. I love the teachings of Jesus. When my mother was diagnosed with leukemia, my faith did not halt her illness, but my faith did help me move through her illness, as her faith helped her.
Life without faith, life without trust, life without risking what it takes to have faith and trust, is a barren and painful thing indeed. I would suggest that each of us could use a little more trust and faith in the context of our lives. Whether it is participating in our own democratic process or stepping up to the plate as a volunteer in our community, we need to do more. Whether it is trusting a church leader or a community leader, we need to risk it so that we might all move forward.
Does this mean we are to be naive? Well, yes, a little. But the naiveté that we seek is not a purposeless and mindless wandering. It is an intentional deliberate choice to be naive. We must, as Jesus says, have the trust and openness of a child (Matthew 19:14) if we wish to participate in God's reality. Mind you, we are called to be childlike, not childish. We are called to be open and ready to trust. We are called to shed the scales of our cynicism and step forward in joyful abandon. In short, we need to be able to read this story from Exodus with the deep awareness that in this instance, God's people are not offering behavior we need to imitate.
In this Lenten time, as we journey in a wilderness of our own making, maybe we could try to trust a little more? Perhaps we could risk a little more? Maybe we could transform this wilderness of cynicism and doubt into a garden of faith and joy. Amen.
Perhaps the most significant thing that shifted during those years was the way people trusted their leaders. Prior to the '60s, or more precisely, prior to the Vietnam War and Watergate, there was a deep and abiding trust in those who were our leaders. I can recall my parents and grandparents reflecting that trust and doing their duty as they served in all manner of civic services. From the military to volunteer fire fighters to helping out at schools and summer camps, people did their part for the greater good. For the most part, they did that because of this trust.
That trust unraveled in the wake of the 1960s. For good or ill, the generations that have lined up since then lack trust in government, in civic organizations, in church, and beyond. Check with any group that depends upon volunteer labor. Look at the scores of organizations and groups that have receded and even disappeared as the folk who have matured over the last fifty years have turned and walked away.
We don't much like our leaders. Whether it's presidents, congress, governors, mayors, or even pastors ... we just don't trust them anymore. We are the perfect reflection of the people of Israel as they are described in this passage from Exodus. If we follow anyone, we do it grumbling every step of the way. Leaders are to be mistrusted and their motives are to be questioned. Indeed, some folk make it their business to be certain that no leaders can rise up to move the people. Anyone who tries to step into roles of leadership becomes a target, and if that person has any skeletons in his or her closet, they will be revealed.
The truth is that we whine a lot. We complain endlessly and are strikingly similar to the Israelites as they shook their fists at Moses and shouted, "Why did you bring us out of Egypt, anyway? Did you lead us out here so we would die of thirst?" No one is suggesting that blind, unquestioning trust is a good thing. Indeed, a healthy skepticism can save us from those who do not, in fact, have our best interests at heart. Neither can it be argued that everyone who tries to assume leadership is worthy of it. We need, both in government and in the church, to examine those who would lead us in order to determine their fitness. But once this is done, we need to offer up a little bit of trust. We need to be willing to accept leadership.
The current climate in our culture makes this acceptance difficult at best. Cynicism and mistrust permeate our lives these days and erode the mortar that holds us together as community. Who can blame Moses for running to God in frustration and fear? He lays it out with painful clarity before God. In fact, he "cries out" to the Lord, "What shall I do with this people? They are almost ready to stone me." God, of course, leads Moses and the people to the place where the water springs from the rock and things calm down for the present.
It seems we have much in common with this Exodus people. Not only do we whine and complain and fail to trust in our leaders, we are also -- like them -- wandering in the wilderness. Our wilderness, though, is not the Sinai desert. Our thirst does not come from a lack of water, nor our hunger from too little food.
The wilderness in which we wander these days is one of our own making.
It is a frightening landscape in which we find ourselves etched and carved by this epidemic of cynicism and doubt; this pervasive mood of mistrust and fear. The thirst from which we suffer is one caused by a runaway sense of individualism and narcissism. We are bombarded with messages that tell us we must meet our own needs before meeting the needs of others. From the news, to television, to film, and back again we hear and see the story of the rugged individualist who trusts no one and does whatever it takes to get what he wants or thinks he needs.
Our spirits are parched by the lack of community and the trust that makes such joinings possible. We hunger for a vision and a direction, and yet are unable to move because we are unable to trust.
What happens, we ask, if we trust someone and they betray us? What happens if we love someone and they hurt us? What happens if we follow a leader and that leader turns out to be leading us where we cannot go? What happens then?
Let me say this.
If you trust, your trust is certain -- sooner or later -- to be betrayed. But life without trust is far more desolate than any pain of betrayal. If you love, the person you love will wound and hurt you sooner or later. Humans are imperfect. But the beauty and wonder of love far outweighs any pain that comes from love's wounding. All those who step into leadership are also human and imperfect.
Take Moses as our example! He was wanted for murder, a questionable character under even the best circumstances. Martin Luther King Jr., it has been learned, was less than perfect in his life. But still, it is clear that he was a man of God sent to lead God's people out of the sin of racism. Indeed, look at the people who God tends to lift up for leadership. Was Saint Paul worthy of the trust of the early church? Hardly. He was their chief persecutor! Our leaders are rarely, if ever, of perfect character. They, like us, are imperfect people in search of a perfect wonder.
You see, stepping into the waters of trust and openness does not in any way ensure that we will be unmolested in this life. It is a lot like faith. In fact, it involves faith. Our belief in God and our trust in God's word through Jesus Christ doesn't constitute an insurance policy against the vagaries of this life. I believe in God. I love the teachings of Jesus. When my mother was diagnosed with leukemia, my faith did not halt her illness, but my faith did help me move through her illness, as her faith helped her.
Life without faith, life without trust, life without risking what it takes to have faith and trust, is a barren and painful thing indeed. I would suggest that each of us could use a little more trust and faith in the context of our lives. Whether it is participating in our own democratic process or stepping up to the plate as a volunteer in our community, we need to do more. Whether it is trusting a church leader or a community leader, we need to risk it so that we might all move forward.
Does this mean we are to be naive? Well, yes, a little. But the naiveté that we seek is not a purposeless and mindless wandering. It is an intentional deliberate choice to be naive. We must, as Jesus says, have the trust and openness of a child (Matthew 19:14) if we wish to participate in God's reality. Mind you, we are called to be childlike, not childish. We are called to be open and ready to trust. We are called to shed the scales of our cynicism and step forward in joyful abandon. In short, we need to be able to read this story from Exodus with the deep awareness that in this instance, God's people are not offering behavior we need to imitate.
In this Lenten time, as we journey in a wilderness of our own making, maybe we could try to trust a little more? Perhaps we could risk a little more? Maybe we could transform this wilderness of cynicism and doubt into a garden of faith and joy. Amen.
