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Sermon Preached at Frazer Mennonite Church

God Provides

Exodus 16:1-18

 

I have a confession to make.  I chose this text in our sermon series “God of the Hebrew BIble” because I knew that after several weeks of hard hitting texts from the Hebrew scripture–like Hagar, like Sodom and Gomorrah, and like Moses meeting the God who’s name we cannot pronounce–I thought this one would be easy.  A preaching reprieve for me–I get to say simple, beautiful things about God and we all get to leave feeling good about ourselves. 

And imagine my surprise and disappointment when I read the text for the week, and realized that this is a difficult word and a word from God and about God that we need to hear.  

So if you are coming for some easy comfort this morning, let me tell you from the get go that this text may surprise you.  It certainly has taken me by surprise this week.  

In this text, we meet the chosen people of God in the wilderness, having recently been freed from enslavement by the Egyptian people, they walked through the Red Sea that God parted, while their enemies and enslavers followed behind and were consumed by the Sea.  

This was an incredible way to be saved from enslavement–with the seas parting just for the Israelites.  What an act of power on God’s part.  

And there the Israelites were–just a stone’s throw away from their former home.  They had been radically freed by a radically free God, the God who–if you recall last week’s sermon–is too big to be named and contained by our human imagination and capacity.  

The Israelites were free.  And in their freedom they are also homeless.  And hungry. And in a desert.  

The problem of enslavement had been solved, but in their freedom they had some other pressing problems to solve.  And the people begin to freak out.

If you’ve ever watched the original reality television show, Survivor, you have a pretty good understanding of what happens to people when resources are scarce and folks are trying to survive on very little.  FIghting and accusations ensue. 

God’s chosen people had just been saved in a big, spectacular way, but very quickly they began to complain to Aaron and Moses, “If only we had died by God’s hand in the land of Egypt, when we sat next to pots of meat and ate our bread till we were filled! But now you have brought the whole community out into the wilderness to die of hunger!”

Before Aaron and Moses could even bring this to God, God told Moses, “Oh for goodness sakes.  Do these people not trust me? I will take care of my people. Every night I will send quail into the encampment for you to eat and every morning I will send Manna (which literally translated means, “What is it”) to you.  But here’s the catch. Take only what you need.”

And everyone took as much as they needed. Some took a little, some took a lot according to their need, but when it was measured, it was all the same amount. 

On the 7th day, it was their sabbath, and they were not to work, but to gather twice as much on the 6th day, to hold them over.  But this was the only time they were to do this. Any other day that they took more than they needed the food would become rancid and full of maggots.  

God had already showed the people that God would provide.  God had already showed the people that God would look out for them.  But the people continued to worry that they were freed from slavery only to starve and die in the desert. So God had to show them again.  With Manna and Quail. This is only one of many ways that God showed up for the Israelites, protecting them, providing for them, and caring for them.  

******

I’m aware of just how difficult it is to trust that God will provide.  

Because we are really used to taking care of things ourselves.  Many of us have the resources to take care of those financial crises that may hit.  Many of us have the relationships we need to get support when we need it.  

But have you ever felt a time when you had used up all your resources–financial, relational, and emotional–and realized that you were not going to be able to make it work?

******

When Charlie was in graduate school, we were both living on my meager social work salary.  It was the end of the semester, and the little bit of money we had, I had just used to pay for our rent.  And we had no food in the house.  

And I was really scared.  

We were really careful with our money.  We never went out to eat, we shopped at the cheapest grocery store in town.  I tried to only shop at thrift stores. I was militant about electricity usage.  

And even with all the scrimping and trimming, we had no money.  

I remember sitting in our living room in West Philly, on our ugly, scratchy second hand sofa, crying.  In desperation, I called out to God and asked for a miracle.  

And then I heard the mail carrier arrive.  I fixed my face, went out to the mailbox, and found our tax return, which was equivalent to a week of my salary at the time.  We had just enough to buy groceries, and pay the back bills that were hovering over us.  

Before I had even asked for God’s help, God was already providing for us at just the right time.  

******

My friend, Hamed, runs a little non-profit in Palestine where he provides emergency assistance for Palestinians that live in especially precarious situations, that are the result of living in occupation.  My small part of the work is to wire him money from his US fundraising account.  

When the money gets low, Hamed frets and he and I both lose sleep about how we will pay for the work. Inevitably, the money shows up.  And we breathe a collective sigh of relief. He’ll say Hamdillallah, and I’ll say “Thanks be to God.” And we mean it. Those moments of relief happen more than we’d like, but every time, God provides. 

******

I bet you have had some moments like that in your life.  Maybe it was with a financial need, or maybe it was a friend showing up just in time.  In our lives, God provides, God sends us Manna. 

But this is not the only meaning of this Manna story.  And unfortunately, this is not where the sermon ends.  

In this story from Exodus, God was testing the people.  “Collect only as much as you need,” said God. “I will be watching you,” said God. God provided and God wanted the people to remember who was doing the providing.  It was not the people’s work that made this happen–it was God’s work, God’s power. 

And there are a couple of ways that God made sure that people remembered who was doing the providing.  

First, the manna went bad if the people tried to squirrel a little bit away for another day.  God is clever with this consequence. But the message was clear. Worry about today. Tomorrow will take care of itself.  

And second, God made the people take a day of rest. They were not to gather food on the Sabbath.  Because rest from our labors is important. Because we are more than our work. 

This is only the beginning of the economic guidelines God put into place for the people.  God told the people to leave a little grain on the edges of the field for those in need. God told the people to observe Jubilee, and forgive debts and return land every 70 years.  God told the people to give a tithe–10 percent of all they created and earned–back to God.  

These aren’t arbitrary God rules.  These are intentional rules to help the people remember that God was the provider.  Not them. God.  

But how often do we follow these financial guidelines?  I admit that I don’t. I don’t give as much as God has asked me to.  And I certainly don’t practice sabbath as I should. So, this text hits close to home for me.  

Because I don’t practice jubilee or sabbath, I know my sense of who provides for me becomes distorted.  It becomes twisted to the point that I believe I am in control, that I am providing for my needs, that I am responsible when I am successful.  

This text invites us into the practice of jubilee.  God invites us, just as God invited the people of Israel to take only what we need.  God invites us to practice sabbath, taking a break from accomplishing and maintaining that false sense of power over our lives.  

Our culture is one that drives us to always be working, always accomplishing, always doing.  And God calls us back to these counter-intuitive acts of resting and only taking what we need. 

I want to go back to this.  I want to get back to these spiritual practices.  Today I will take that small step back to the spiritual practice of sabbath keeping.  I need the rest. I need to rest in the promise that God will provide for my needs. It’s not me. It’s not what I can do.  It’s only through God. 

As you go out from this place today, pray about what spiritual practices you can implement to increase your awareness of God’s provision. Maybe it’s a TV and social media fast one day a week.  Maybe it’s a day a week where you don’t buy anything. Maybe you commit to increasing your giving by 1% a year. Perhaps you take a year long fast from buying new things.  

Regardless of whether you do this or not, God is always providing.  But when we practice Sabbath, when we practice only taking what we need, when we rest we find that we can really see what God can do.  This is the difficult challenge of this text.  Can we trust in God’s provisions? Or are we trusting in our own means? 

Let us trust in the God of the Hebrew Bible, the God who sent us Jesus. Let us trust in God who created us and called us very good, who is with us in difficult times, who calls us to hospitality, who wrestles with us, and who is too big to be named and contained.  Let us trust today in God’s provisions. AMEN.  

As Close as Your Breath

Sermon Preached at Frazer Mennonite Church

October 6, 2019

As Close as Your Breath

Based on Exodus 3

Borrowed heavily from the work of beloved Rabbi Arthur Wascow

The Hebrew word for God is made up of four Hebrew letters. Yud-Hey-Vav-Hey.  In Christian circles we read that word as Yahweh, or Jehovah (depending on what vowels you use) which we interpret as “I am.”  

Yahweh is known as an unpronounceable name in the Jewish tradition.  It’s so holy that it dare not be uttered. When Jewish folks read the Bible and come to the Yud-Hey-Vav-Hey, they refuse to pronounce it.  Instead, the name is read as “Adonai” which means “Lord” or “Hashem” which means “the name.”  

The name is so holy that you cannot destroy a piece of paper that has the name of God written on it.  Most Jewish folks don’t even write the name of God down for fear of it being destroyed. The name of God is sacred, holy and unspeakable to them.  

In seminary, I studied the history of this name in a memorable piece called, “The ineffable name of God.”  After reading about this tradition, I picked the kids up at school, and on the drive home, I began talking to the kids about this practice of not speaking the name of God.  Will engaged with the idea immediately. We talked about what you’d call God, if you can’t use God’s actual name. The conversation went on for some time, the two of us spit-balling ideas back and forth, until we heard Reba four year old pipe up from the back seat exasperatedly, “Can’t we just call God, ‘Bob?’”

It would be easier to call God by a more practical name like “Bob”, I guess.  It certainly makes God seem more inviting, casual and friendly. But this is not what God is going for here.  God has no intention of making themselves more accessible and easier to access. This God here is quite the opposite, refusing to make themselves fit any human character, personality or mold.  

And today’s story is a perfect example of God refusing to be named and confined.  

We meet Moses today in an encounter with YHVH at the burning bush.  But, in order to understand this encounter, we need to understand where Moses came from.  

Now, Moses was a two culture kid.  He was born an Israelite child to enslaved Israelite parents.  But because the Egyptians were trying to kill Israelite babies, Moses’ mom devised a plan to save him.  She sent him down the river in a floating basket, which ended up floating right to the Queen of Egypt. So Moses, a Israelite baby meant to be murdered by the king, was raised as an Egyptian in royalty.  His biological mother became his nursemaid, and–from all the clues we have in the text–taught him about his people and culture, so that he would know where he came from.  

And this child was named, Moses, which means son in the Egyptian language of the time, and means “deliverer” in Hebrew.  A simple, generic name in the Egyptian court held incredible promise for the Israelite people.  

When Moses grew up, he encountered an Egyptian slave driver that was trying to kill an Israelite.  Moses responded by killing the slave driver, and then fleeing Egypt to the desert. And there Moses lived a simple life, a sheepherder for his father in law, and a husband and parent to a new family.  

Moses knew how to live as a wealthy Egyptian, and as a Israelite.  Moses straddled both worlds, and was perfectly equipped to speak about the enslavement of his people.  

Moses understood the culture of the Egyptian royalty, and he also understood the religion of the empire.  At the time, Egyptian gods and goddesses were invoked according to different needs. Ra was the sun god and was widely considered to be the most powerful.  Isis, the mother god, was called upon to protect people in need. Horus was the sky god, and the Egyptian King, Pharaoh, was considered the embodiment of Horus on earth.  And so on… Each god was represented by an animal or creature.  

Moses understood the religion of the empire, and the religion of his own people.  He was perfectly placed to be a messenger from the God of the Israelite underdogs to the Pharaoh, the living embodiment of the Egyptian sky god.  

While Moses was herding sheep, he encountered God in the bush that was burning but not consumed.  And there God revealed God’s self to Moses.  

And there God called Moses to go back to Egypt, back to that place where he was a wanted man with a price on his head, and back to save his people, the Israelites, from slavery.  

Moses asked an important question of God in this moment.  He asked: “When I go to the children of Israel and say to them, “the God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ if they ask me, “what is this God’s name?’ what am I to tell them?”

It seems like a weird question to ask, doesn’t it?  What’s the name for God I’m supposed to give to the people of Israel when they ask?  But Moses knew it was a question the Israelites would ask. They would want to know which god Moses was invoking here.  

And God answered with one word–YHVH. This is the first time this name for God is used in the Hebrew scripture.  Before this, the name that is usually used is Elohim, a rather generic name for God which essentially means “divine being”.  And this name–Elohim–is plural. But this new name for God, YHVH–means many things: “I am as I am, I am who I am, I will be who I will be.” And God said to Moses, “This is what you will tell the Israelites: ‘I AM has sent me to you.’”

“I am” has sent me.  This is our God, who refuses to be named, refuses to be confined by a verb tense, a proper noun, or even vowels to help us pronounce the name.  This God, our God, is, was and will be.  

And YHVH here refuses to be confined by a single characteristic.  This separates God from the Egyptian Gods responsible for their own domains.  No name will suffice for the God of the Israelite people, the God the people call on for any and all needs.  

God made it clear here in God’s name, that God was not playing by the rules of the Egyptian empire, the enslavers of the Israelites. God will not be tamed or confined.  

YHVH for the name of our God.  This is an elusive name. It can neither be pronounced well or defined well.  It’s a name that says, “You cannot control me or domesticate me.”  

This is a radically free God, who radically frees God’s people.  

Let’s go even further with this name for God.  Try something with me. Let’s collectively take a deep breath in. 

And now out.  

Again. In.  and Out.  

Yah

Weh.  

Yah

Weh.  

The God of the people of Israel, is the sound of the very essence of life itself.  God who cannot be named or pronounced is the very essence of our lives. God is the very breath we breathe.  In-Yah–and out–Weh. 

And Moses will tell the people of Israel that their God is the God of life, the God of the very air we breathe.  And Moses will tell the Pharaoh that his God is the God that cannot be named or tamed. And that God will set the enslaved people free.  

The new name for God is a revolution, friends.  The God of Israel goes from being a generic divine being creating the new people known as Israel, or the “God wrestlers”, to a God that is so vast, so big, so wild and untamed that there is literally no pronunciation for this God.  

And yet, this big wild God is also a personal one.  This big, wild, radically free God, the God who created us and calls us very good, this same God invites relationship with us wants to see us be radically free too.  

This God, whose name cannot even be spoken is as close to us as our breath.  Yah. Weh. Yah. Weh.  

Yahweh doesn’t care about Pharaoh’s rules or the rules of this or any nation.  In fact, God seems to be actively trying to liberate us from all of that.  

I’ve been trying to understand this all week.  It seems like too much to understand that such a BIG expansive and undomesticated God loves us, created us, and calls us very good.  And maybe that’s why the name is so important. Yahweh, YHVH, is too big for any name we ascribe. And yet, God is as close to us as our very breath.  An enormous, yet personal God.  

This is the God we serve and worship.  Yahweh, who liberates and saves, who loves us all and knows you personally.  Yahweh, the God who was and is and is to come. AMEN.

God who Wrestles with Us

Sermon based on Genesis 32:22-32

Jacob Wrestled

 

On our congregational retreat last week, our speaker, Bryan Moyer Suderman, offered two ways that people approach the Biblical text: 

Thy Word is a Lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path

And

Wrestling with the Scripture, Wrestling with the word.

While I love the certainty of the Amy Grant praise song, which originally comes from the Psalmist, I identify more with the wrestling metaphor from Bryan’s song and from our biblical text today.  

I am suspicious of easy answers, because they have not served my faith.  

I am dubious of certainty because–truth be told–I’ve rarely experienced God in certainty.

I am a scripture wrestler.  I am a God wrestler. I do not receive the word of God or the call of God,  unless I have examined it, argued with it, doubted it, and finally come to an uneasy peace with it.  

So, as you might imagine, this story from Jacob is a special one for me. Not just because of the wrestling, but because of Jacob’s journey up to this point.  

Jacob, grandson of Abraham, and son of Isaac, was a difficult person.  He was born a twin, his brother, Esau was just minutes older than Jacob, and so his brother received the generational wealth, the family birthright as an elder son.  This did not sit well with Jacob, and so twice he successfully managed to steal his brother’s birthright, his blessing. He traded his famished brother the birthright for a bowl of soup.  And he deceived his blind, ailing father, Isaac, into giving him a blessing on Isaac’s deathbed. 

And, it seems that bad feelings about the deception stayed with Jacob, worried him, even tormented him.  Because of this act of selfishness, Jacob was estranged from his brother and lived in fear of retribution from Esau.  

Jacob decided, after decades apart from his twin sibling, that he needed a time of reconciliation, so he headed towards his brother’s home, with his family and livestock in tow.  Jacob sent a messenger to Esau, saying, “I’m headed towards your home. Is it ok for me to visit?” And the messenger came back saying, “Esau is coming to you with 400 riders.” 

Well this sent Jacob’s imagination spinning into his worst fear– that Esau was heading toward his family with an army to destroy them.   

So Jacob came up with a plan, and sent the family and livestock across the river.  But Jacob returned to the other side of the river, furthest away from Esau and the potential conflict.  And there, on the shores of the Yabbok river, he was alone. Or so he thought. 

And there he wrestled with someone.  Here in this text we meet the same mysterious character we’ve met in the last few weeks of texts:  the angel, messenger, God character. And they begin to wrestle.  

It’s important to note here that Yabbok means crossroads.  And it’s also important to know that this river is not one that has clear boundaries.  It’s muddy, and there’s not much of a shoreline. Modern day tourists that try to get there cannot.  There are no roads to this part of the Yabbok river. Only mud. So,it’s more like Jacob was wrestling in a swamp with this angel, messenger, God character.  

So not only are they wrestling all night, but they are wrestling at an important crossroads in Jacob’s life, and that crossroads river is so completely and utterly murkey and muddy.  The metaphor and poetry of the words and their meaning are not lost on the writer and the original listener here.  

They wrestle all night long, and Jacob will not give up.  And this “someone”, seeing that Jacob would not be easily defeated, pulled out their big wrestling move.  This adversary kicks Jacob. Many texts say that Jacob is kicked in the hip. But, have you ever thought about how weird it is to be kicked in the hip?  Hardly ever happens. I think this is the translator’s way of being nice to us English readers and our Victorian sensibilities. Scholars are pretty sure that the kick was placed right between the hips, in a place that surely would end a long wrestling match.  

And still Jacob did not give up.  His adversary, after landing this painful kick, says to Jacob, “Let me go.” and Jacob refused to let him go until he had received a blessing from this mysterious stranger.  

Jacob, who stole his blessing from his brother and father, struggles with that and wanted a blessing, on that is obtained in truth and honesty.  And there, God gave him a blessing in the form of a new name, calling Jacob, “Israel” which means,”Wrestles with God”.

And now, we as people of God, as spiritual descendants of the people of Israel, are also those who are called to wrestle with God.

The fall series is about naming those characteristics of God, and here I want to name God as the one who invites us to wrestle, who identifies in our name a core characteristic–the ones who wrestle with God.  

And more than that, we are invited to wrestle with God!  The God who loves us and calls us very good, the god who cares about us on a personal level, the God who demands our hospitality is also the God who is approachable, even in wrestling match form.  

I am grateful for a God who wrestles with us.  Because the wrestling is the only way I’m here in the church.  

I wrestled with God when my Mom died.  I blamed God, screamed at God, raged at the church’s fear of my wrestling, and their fear of my questions. And I came out the other side, with a limp, a sign that I had encountered God and was forever altered by that experience.  

This week I watched a friend wrestling with God.  She came out of the closet 2 years ago, and was rejected by friends and family.  She’s at the crossroads now, wrestling in the mud with God about her healing and wholeness and whether she has the strength to re-engage the church and her family after all this pain.  

I cautioned my friend to not try to rush through the wrestling, not to try to have easy answers, and not to avoid the opportunity to understand this at a deeper level.  

And I warned her that she would walk away from this experience with God with a limp and maybe some scars, but knowing she’s been blessed by God, and seen by a God that WANTS to wrestle with her.  

Many of you are at crossroads in your lives.  With your health, with your family, with your work, and with the dis-ease of the unanswered questions of our faith.  And God invites you into the wrestling mud pit at this crossroads. God invites the wrestling. We do not need to fear God here.  This is where God does some of their best work, in the mud, in the mess and in the unanswered questions.  

Just look at Job, for example.  Job was called an upright man of God, and after being afflicted by every imaginable difficulty known to humans, Job began to wrestle and argue and shake his fists at God.  And God was silent for a bit, but did wrestle with Job in the mess of his life. Job’s life was never the same. He didn’t get his family or his wealth back. He didn’t return to the old “normal”.  He received a new normal, a new family and a new and richer understanding of God.  

Jesus wrestled with God as he headed to the cross, saying to God, “Let this cup pass from me.” On the cross, Jesus called out to God, saying “Eli Eli Lamach Sabachtani”–“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  Jesus wrestled through into his death, and came out of the tomb three days later bearing the marks of his encounter with God. And he emerged from that tomb a changed person, a Jesus who understood even more clearly what God sent him to do. 

Today’s text is an invitation to get into the mud pit with God, to wrestle, to refuse to let go of God, to demand answers, to demand God’s blessing in our lives.  And God in all that mess, within all the demands we make, God will hang in there with us.  

When we walk away after our long night of wrestling with God, we will not be the same.  We will come away changed, maybe a little bruised and 

broken, but always with a deeper appreciation for God our creator, who cares about us and calls us very good.  AMEN.