Sunday, August 30th, 2020 – Stop, Turn, Look, and Ask, “Why?” – A Sermon on Exodus 3:1-15

Exodus 3:1-15
1 Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. ² There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. ³ Then Moses said, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.” ⁴ When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.” ⁵ Then he said, “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” ⁶ He said further, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God. ⁷ Then the Lord said, “I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, ⁸ and 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, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. ⁹ The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. ¹⁰ So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.” ¹¹ But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” ¹² He said, “I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain.” ¹³ But Moses said to God, “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?” ¹⁴ God said to Moses, “I am who I am.” He said further, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘I am has sent me to you.'” ¹⁵ God also said to Moses, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, “The Lord, the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you’: This is my name forever, and this my title for all generations.

In the early 1960s and in the shadow of the Vietnam War and the Cold War nuclear arms build-up, singer-song writer Bob Dylan wrote the song “Masters of War,” a protest song, which he calls a song like nothing he had ever written before. In the song, he sings these haunting words…

You have thrown the worst fear that could ever be hurled.
The fear to bring children into this world.

In August of 2014, when Michael Brown was killed by police in Ferguson, Missouri, one of the most heart wrenching moments in the (news) coverage was an interview with a woman from the Black community. With deep pain in her voice, she said she no longer wants to have children, “Who would want to raise children, especially a young man, into this kind of world?”[1]

It’s a terrifying thought to be too afraid to bring children into this world. But one that isn’t unimaginable today.

That kind of world is the kind of world that Moses was born into as well. If you tuned in last week, you heard Moses’ origin story.

Last week we heard that Moses was born into a particularly atrocious time in Egypt. There was a new king, who, due to his prejudice towards people who were different than him and his irrational fears, this King began to enslave the Hebrew people.

Then the fearful and threatened king escalated into state-sponsored genocide, ordering that all the newborn Hebrew boys be killed, lest they rise up against him.

You can imagine the Hebrew slaves singing to Pharaoh in the hot sun, You have thrown the worst fear that could ever be hurled. The fear to bring children into this world.

That was the context of the world in Exodus chapter 1.

But then we learn about the Hebrew midwives – Shiphrah and Puah –  stood up to this evil through civil disobedience. They did not follow the Pharaoh’s orders to kill the newborns.  Pharaoh was afraid of the boys, when really he should have been afraid of the midwives. Because they were his downfall. They were the brave ones who disobeyed him, so as to bring about love and life, rather than discrimination and death.

And then in Exodus chapter 2, we learned that in the midst of such an awful time in history, people were still falling in love. Which is such a hopeful act. Preacher Alan Storey says that “falling in love is always a protest against evil in this world.” It is into that world that two people conceive a child and give birth to a son, and we all hold our breath. What will happen to this child?  Pharaoh says the child must be thrown into the river, but the child’s mother put him on the river. In a basket. It was Pharaoh’s daughter who rescued this child out of the river and disobeyed her father by letting the child live and eventually adopting him as her own son.

That boy’s name was Moses.

And then Moses grows up being raised as an Egyptian, even though he was born a Hebrew. Think about that for a moment. Moses was born among enslaved people and then raised as an Egyptian – the very people doing the enslaving. Quite possibly waking up each morning in the Pharaoh’s palace.

Imagine the identity crisis. Am I a Hebrew or an Egyptian? Who am I? It’s a divided life that escalates and reveals itself when Moses sees an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, and Moses takes matters into his own hands. He kills the Egyptian. One of his own. In order to protect the Hebrew. One of his own. And then he hides the body and flees the land.

Which is what we do. We run from who we are and what we’ve done.

Moses goes to a local watering well in the land of Midian. He meets a woman there named Zipporah. Jethro’s daughter. Jethro was the local priest. Moses and Zipporah get married.  So, Moses the murderer gets hitched to a pastor’s daughter. No pressure there. Together they have a son, and they name him Gershom, which means, “I have been an alien residing in a foreign land.”

Moses names his child “I have been an alien residing in a foreign land.”

That’s Moses whole life right there. I have been an alien residing in a foreign land. He’s been a Hebrew living in Egypt. He’s an Egyptian living among the Hebrews. Now, he’s in the land of Midian. Where’s home for Moses? Where can he take off his sandals and put his feet up? He has no home. He’s always been an alien residing in a foreign land.

That’s Moses origin story. That’s the context of the world and the life that Moses is living in when we find him in today’s text. Chapter 3.

Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian.

You know, after everything Moses has been through, I bet this was a nice moment for him. He’s just keeping the flock of his father-in-law. No one is chasing after him trying to throw him in a river or arrest him for murder. He can just maintain a low profile and keep watch over the flock of sheep that are not even his. Not his full responsibility. It’s like Grandparenting – just keep ‘em alive. Feed them some candy. Watch a movie. And then give them back, no worse than you found them.

Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law. A wonderfully ordinary moment for Moses whose life has been never been ordinary.

But then things shift. Moses doesn’t even get a full sentence of ordinary. No, he gets a semi-colon’s worth of ordinary. Because half-way through verse one Moses goes from keeping,maintaining status quo with this flock to leading them.

Still verse 1- Moses led his flock, the text says. Moses is a leader now. Something has changed. What is it? Who knows.  But he’s on the move. Leading, like a shepherd does from time to time. Green pastures, still waters, paths of righteousness. But is that where Moses leads? Oh no.

Moses led his flock… beyond the wilderness. Which seems, if you ask me, like a terrible idea. The wilderness alone seems like a dangerous place for a flock. I cannot imagine that beyond the wilderness is any better.

Other translations say Moses took them to the “back of the desert, or the edge, or the inner parts, or the Far Side.” All of which is to say that Moss is going beyond the wilderness that we know. It’s pushing the limits of wild.[2]

Because what is beyond the wilderness is Horeb, the mountain of God.

Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God.

Why did he do this? Who knows? Was this a mid-life crisis where the chaos of his younger years created a thirst for adventure that Midian and flock-keeping just couldn’t quench? Was it an accident – he’s just out for a new patch of scenery with the flock, he loses track of time, gets turned around, and suddenly, *bam* mountain of God right in front of him? Who knows.

But preacher Anna Carter Florence says “The text is certain about one thing. Moses started in Midian (but then found the mountain of God) when he led his flock beyond where they usually went. They had to leave what they knew and push past where they’ve been. And then they were in a position to see the mountain of God and a bush that was burning.”[3]

They had to leave what they knew and push past where they’ve been. If that isn’t a one-sentence summary of both the pandemic and racial justice work of our country right now, I don’t know what is.

They had to leave what they knew and push past where they’ve been. But it isn’t just leaving the comfort of Midian for Moses. And it isn’t simply going beyond the wilderness to the mountain of God that leads to a burning bush moment. You see, you have to leave what you’ve known and push past where you’ve been, but you also have to stop and open your eyes.

When the angel of the Lord showed up to Moses in a flame of fire out of a bush, did you catch what Moses said? “I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.”

 I must stop and turn and look.

And then the text says, “When the Lord saw that Moses had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!”

The Burning Bush, by He Qi – https://www.heqiart.com/lt-old-testament-gallery.html

Only when God saw that Moses had turned and looked did God call out to him. Moses could have walked by and shrugged and would God have called him? We will never know. Maybe that bush had been on fire for years waiting for someone to show some interest. But I can’t help but wonder if sometimes we can miss God’s calling if don’t turn and look and pay attention to the burning bushes around us.

But Moses does turn and look. And God calls his name. And Moses replies, “Here I am, Lord.” And God says, “Take off your shoes. This is holy ground.” Or as one commentator said, “Take off your shoes. You’ve been an alien in a foreign land. But here, you’re home. Take off your shoes, Moses.”[4]

Take off your shoes, people of God. You belong to God. That’s your identity. Wherever you are, you are home.

And notice that the fire of the burning bush is never mentioned again. God is not here for a magic show. God and Moses don’t talk about the miracle and majesty of flames and bushes that are never consumed. They don’t talk about best shepherding techniques and how to get back to the comfort of Midian. No, God goes straight to the heart of the moment when God says to Moses: I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; (The people who are afraid) I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, ⁸ and 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.

Why is the bush burning and not being consumed? To show off God’s magical powers? No. It’s burning because the people of God are suffering under the tyranny of Pharaoh. And the fire of God’s justice will never burn out until some stops to turn and look and ask why.

Sometimes to hear God’s call on your life, you have to stop and look and ask the question Pharaoh never wants you to ask. Why?

Why is this bush burning and yet not consumed? Why are we letting Pharaoh do what Pharaoh does?

We need to stop and turn and look and ask why.

Why can an unarmed black man walking away from the police be shot in the back 7 times, and yet a heavily armed, 17-year-old white male who has shot three people can walk past police unnoticed?

We need to stop and turn and look and ask why.

Why are the seasons and intensity of California wildfires growing bigger and bigger each year? Why are the winters drier and the summers hotter?

We need to turn and look and ask why.

Why do we have the most state of the art, heavily armed military in the world, but parents everywhere still have to buy 1 ream of white printer paper, 8.5×11 cardstock, 1 box of gallon ziplock baggies, 1 box of facial tissues, assorted arts and crafts supplies, masking tape, and watercolor paper for their kids class room. Oh, and cut out box tops from cereal containers.

We need to stop and turn and look and ask why.

There are fires everywhere. The fire of racism and a people crying out. The fire of Climate change and an earth crying out. The fire of underfunded teachers and schools and a whole generation crying out.

These are fires that will not burn out and the fire of God’s justice is trying to get our attention. So that we might leave the comfort of what we know and pasuh past where we’ve been, and stop and turn and look and ask why. All so that we might then hear our name called.

You see, that’s the best and the worst part of it all. That this work of setting the captives free, the work of tending to injustice – God will not do this alone. God tells Moses that God has heard the cries of God’s people and seen how they are oppressed. God says, “I have come down, so that I can bring them up!” and then God says, “So come on, Moses. I’m sending you.”

And Moses, forgetting that he was home, returns to that deep wound of alienation and asks “But who am I? How can I as a Hebrew go to the Pharaoh? How can I as an Egyptian whose killed another Egyptian go to Pharaoh? Who am I to receive this calling? To do this work?”

And God doesn’t say it will all be okay. God doesn’t say that Moses was born for this. God doesn’t say that Moses has the right combination of leadership and interpersonal skillsets and Myers-Briggs type that make him perfect for this position.

God simply says, “I will be with you.”

I will be with you.

Dear people of God, there are a lot of fires burning right now. And it very much feels like we are beyond the wilderness. May you feel the warmth but also the heat of a burning bush near you. And may you have the courage to turn and look and ask why. And after you given all your excuses of why God couldn’t have meant you, then go with good courage, doing what God has called you to do, knowing God is with you.

Amen.

[1] https://sojo.net/articles/god-hears-cries-ferguson-burning-bush-and-world-fire

[2] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XAdVwsk6KOU&t=1119s. Rev. Dr. Anna Carter Florence, Craft of Preaching, Luther Seminary, 2016. This sermon is very much influenced by Dr. Florence’s sermon.

[3] Ibid.

[4] https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=135

Sunday, August 16th, 2020 – You (Don’t) Have to Decide, a sermon on Matthew 15:10-28

Matthew 15:[10-20] 21-28
[10 Then he called the crowd to him and said to them, “Listen and understand: ¹¹ it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles.” ¹² Then the disciples approached and said to him, “Do you know that the Pharisees took offense when they heard what you said?” ¹³ He answered, “Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be uprooted. ¹⁴ Let them alone; they are blind guides of the blind. And if one blind person guides another, both will fall into a pit.” ¹⁵ But Peter said to him, “Explain this parable to us.” ¹⁶ Then he said, “Are you also still without understanding?¹⁷ Do you not see that whatever goes into the mouth enters the stomach, and goes out into the sewer? ¹⁸ But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this is what defiles. ¹⁹ For out of the heart come evil intentions, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, slander. ²⁰ These are what defile a person, but to eat with unwashed hands does not defile.”] ²¹ Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. ²² Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” ²³ But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, “Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us.” ²⁴ He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” ²⁵ But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” ²⁶ He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” ²⁷ She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” ²⁸ Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And her daughter was healed instantly.

Isaiah 56:1, 6-8
1 Thus says the Lord: Maintain justice, and do what is right, for soon my salvation will come, and my deliverance be revealed.⁶ And the foreigners who join themselves to the Lord, to minister to him, to love the name of the Lord, and to be his servants, all who keep the sabbath, and do not profane it, and hold fast my covenant— ⁷ these I will bring to my holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house of prayer; their burnt offerings and their sacrifices will be accepted on my altar; for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples. ⁸ Thus says the Lord God, who gathers the outcasts of Israel, I will gather others to them besides those already gathered. 

Grace, peace, and mercy are yours in the name of Christ. Amen.

It’s time. The day is finally here.

You have to make a decision.

You don’t have enough information, but you still have to decide. And whatever you choose, there will be ramifications.

First, you go to the professional. You read article after article that makes you think you should choose this option, but then you read something else and suddenly it sounds like you should choose that option.

And which is the safest way to go? What will people think of you, depending on the decision you make?  What is the most faithful decision for the precious ones, who’ve been entrusted into your care?

It’s time. The day is finally here.

You’re the preacher on Sunday, August 16^th, 2020 and you have to decide if Jesus needs to be scolded or defended.

Thanks a lot Jesus. You were on such a roll there. You had the sermon on the mount and all those beautiful beatitudes. Blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are those who mourn. Blessed are those who hunger for righteousness. Yes, yes, yes. More of that.

Then you tell us to love our enemies, and not to worry about our life because we are like treasure hidden in a field, or the most precious and valuable pearl. You cleanse a leper and heal a Roman centurion’s servant without skipping a beat. And then you take nearly nothing and turn it into something and feed almost 12,000 hungry people. This is good stuff. Keep going, Jesus. Then when each one of us is sinking a sea of despair and have little faith, you reach out your hand and pull us into the boat of safety. We loved that part.

And then today – you scold those Pharisees about not getting so hung up food purity laws but that rather we should pay attention to what comes out of our mouth – to the things we say, because that is what really reveals the nature of our hearts and that is what can truly defile a person. I totally agree, Jesus. Thank you – this is the kind of stuff we come to church for.

But then after all that…after everything you said… you head to a cabin up North to take break from the campaign trail and let this dog-gaff fly out of your mouth?

Breaking news this morning, Christianity’s Lord and Savior Jesus Christ suddenly goes off his Church party’s platform and calls a Canaanite woman a dog. No one is entirely sure why he said it or what he meant by it, but the speculation is fierce. Jesus Christ could not be reach for comment at the time of this sermon.

A Canaanite woman from the region of Tyre and Sidon came out to Jesus and his disciples and started shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” ²³ … And Jesus answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” ²⁵ But she doesn’t back down. She kneels before Jesus, saying, “Lord, help me.” ²⁶ And Jesus answers, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” 

 What was Jesus thinking? And does he need to be scolded or defended?

We don’t have enough information to decide.

Many scholars will scold Jesus and uphold the persistence and faithfulness of the Canaanite woman. They dismiss any suggestion that Jesus didn’t mean what he said, or the suggestion that he did mean what he said, but he meant dog in the cute-cuddly-lets-adopt-a-new-dog-during-a-pandemic sort of way. They dismiss any suggestion that Jesus and the woman were in on the joke together. That Jesus and the Canaanite woman were sort of nodding and winking at each other as they put on this little dramatic display of a disagreement for, you know, the disciples’. They always need to learn something.

Nope, many will say. Jesus is just plain wrong and this Canaanite woman knows it.

The word Canaanite should stand out to us. This is a word that is out of time. There were no Canaanites in Jesus’ day. But it is a word that acts as a time machine that takes us all the way back in the scriptures to when the wandering Israelites entered into the land of Canaan…and…well…took over. Stole their land. Israelites and Canaanites – enemies.

Now, here’s Jesus face to face with an enemy, an outsider, a foreigner, a great-granddaughter of the victims of Israel’s conquest. And Jesus seems to all but slam the door in her face and hang outside the house of Israel a no-vacancy sign…

“I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel”, Jesus says.

Why is Jesus being so exclusive here? I thought Jesus loved everyone. Isn’t that…like…his thing?

Jesus may have slammed the door in her face, but like a prophet of old, she won’t stop shouting. “She didn’t hang her head, or leave the room, or flare with anger.” None of that would heal her daughter. No, she persisted. She clung to her faith that Israel’s God could maybe be her God too. Kneeling in worship before Jesus, she will not take no for an answer. “Lord, help me.”

Jesus tosses back at her, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”

And she doesn’t disagree. It wouldn’t be fair to take the children of Israel’s food away from them. She never asked for that. She just knows that there is more than enough to go around. Doesn’t Jesus remember? What did the disciples pick up after the feeding of 12,000? The broken pieces. Also known as crumbs. 12 baskets full. Can I just have some of that, she asks?

This woman is the New Testament version of Jacob. She simply will not let go of God. She will wrestle with God all night long, and she might walk away limping, but she will not walk away until she gets what she came for – the blessing of her daughter being healed.

She knows she come to the God of Israel, and that she is not an Israelite. She was just coming to see if it were true… that there is a god out there, as the prophet Isaiah says, who gathers the outcasts of Israel, and who will gather others beside them. Others…maybe, like her daughter.

This Canaanite woman comes in need to Jesus. They get into an argument and Jesus loses. She teaches the teacher. Teaches Jesus that his ministry was big enough to include her and, more importantly, her daughter, too. And for the only time in the gospel of Matthew, Jesus sees great faith in someone. And it was her. And her daughter was healed.

Many scholars read this story and for good reason scold Jesus and uphold the persistence and faithfulness of the Canaanite woman.

But others think there is another way to look at this story. And dare I say it, think Jesus is worth defending. They aren’t ready to throw Jesus out with the bathwater. Some scholars of this story say…look… the God of Jesus, the God of our Christian faith, is first the God of Israel. We, the gentiles along with this Canaanite woman, were just not the first ones invited to the party. Maybe he’s not being exclusive. Maybe he’s simply being loyal. Being faithful.

Do not forget – Israel was the foreigner, the outcast, the forgotten, the oppressed once too. It’s possible, scholars say, that this woman from Tyre and Sidon is a person of privilege and power in allegiance with the Gentile Roman Empire. Jews were often the ones living in poverty outside of Tyre and Sidon and victims of persecutions. And it gets worse. Way, way back in the history of Israel, they were sent off to Babylon in exile. Sent off into slavery and captivity, they lost their homes, their land, their temple, their families. They lost everything. But then when they were rescued from exile and set free, they returned home to find people living on their land and in their homes. Those people were called “Canaanites”. And they had taken everything. The power dynamic in this story is not always so clear not necessarily tip in just one direction. They both have taken so much from each other.

And so, it is possible that when Jesus comes face to face with this Canaanite woman, he sees an enemy that has hurt and taken from his people once before and perhaps might do it again.

I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” 

Whether we like it or not, as one preacher puts it, “God is one who chooses. To put a sharper point on it, God takes sides, plays favorites. We don’t know why God chooses the way God chooses, but we do know God has something of a preference for the unlikely. God chooses a 90-year-old, Abraham and Sarah, and says he’ll give (them) more descendants than there are stars in the sky. God chooses not the firstborn Esau for blessing but the younger, Jacob, who happens to be a scoundrel. (Later on) God chooses Joseph, the snotty youngest brother, and makes him ruler Egypt to save his murderous 11 brothers from famine. When God has to take sides between mighty empire Egypt and lowly slaves Israel (God) picks Israel… the underdog—and then chooses a stutterer like Moses to preach and lead. And God chooses not the strapping…handsome sons of Jesse, but the youngest stick figured weakling David to take on Goliath and be king. As Kenda Creasy Dean of Princeton Seminary puts it this way: God has a preference for the unlikely. Israel, no one else.”[1]

Jesus, the Son of God, is committed to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. People call this the scandal of particularity. That God would choose a people – the chosen people – can suggest just how picky and stingy God might be, when in fact it is meant to show just how faithful God can be.

Imagine for a moment that you’re back at recess and the daily kick ball game is about to start. And your stomach jumps into your throat because you just don’t know if you have can handle being picked last again. In fact, you’re not even picked. As the last one standing there waiting for a team, no one even needs to say your name. They just gesture to you in such a way that says, “Oh, fine. Come on.”

Now, imagine that on this particular day there are plenty of people left to pick. The kid with the big leg, who kicks a home run every time. Or the one with the daring leap, who can throw her body is such away that it covers massive amount of ground is a short amount of time, in order to catch the pop fly just before it hits the ground. There are so many all-stars left to choose from, and suddenly the choosing starts and you hear your name called. The whole field goes quiet. No one can believe it. The captain said your name. You’ve been picked, not simply tolerated. Out of everyone available, they wanted a particular person – you. You, the unlikely one, have been chosen.

That’s the story of God and Israel. As the prophet Isaiah says, “Thus says the Lord: God, who created you, O Jacob. God, who created you, O Israel, do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name. You are mine.” That’s the story of God and Israel

And so, perhaps Jesus is saying to the Canaanite, “Look, you cannot just come and take that away from the children of Israel.” You cannot take that promise away from this unlikely people and just distribute it in a generic Oprah Winfrey give-away. You get some grace and you get some grace and you get some grace. Everybody gets some grace.

Which is why most of us roll our eyes at the generic obligatory parental claim, “I love all of my children equally.” It might be true, it just doesn’t feed the child’s soul and settle their weary heart. Because each child doesn’t want to know that they are loved equally with all of their siblings. Each child wants to just wants to know what it could be about them in particular that their parent really does love.

That’s the scandal of particularity. That God is one who chooses. And Jesus has been sent to the unlikely lost sheep of the house of Israel. Maybe this isn’t Jesus being exclusive. Maybe he is just being faithful.

So, we are nearing the end of the sermon. Which one have I decided on? To scold Jesus and uphold the persistent mother? Or to defend Jesus? I’m not sure….

I’m not sure that I can decide. I don’t want to lose sight of the faithfulness of this woman. But I also don’t want to lose sight of the faithfulness of Jesus.

The Canaanite woman came for a god like no other. A god that would be unrelentingly faithful to God’s people. A god who would stand by them, even after every disappointment. Even after they were not faithful to God themselves. And that’s what Jesus gave her. An unrelenting faithfulness.

In the end, she can now see just how faithful he is. And he can see the same in her. They have both given each other so much.

I’m not sure I know the answers to all the wrinkles and complexities of this story.

But what I do know the God of Israel is faithful and that at the end of the story a Canaanite woman’s faith in a god who is not her god and whose people are not her people, is declared great and her daughter was healed. Oh and, if you turn the page…suddenly there is Jesus with a crowd again. Thousands of them. And they all were hungry. In need. And once again, with some bread and a few fish, every one ate. And you know what? There were many broken pieces, many crumbs left over at that meal too. Amen.

[1] https://chapel-archives.oit.duke.edu/documents/Byassee–HonoraryJews.pdf

Sunday, August 2nd, 2020 – Nothing, a sermon on Matthew 14:13-21

Matthew 14:13-21
13 Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. ¹⁴ When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. ¹⁵ When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” ¹⁶ Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” ¹⁷ They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” ¹⁸ And he said, “Bring them here to me.” ¹⁹ Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. ²⁰ And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. ²¹ And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children. 

Friends in Christ, companions of God, grace, peace, and mercy are yours in the name of Christ. Amen.

Jesus said to his disciples, “They need not go away. You give them something to eat.”

The disciples replied, “We have nothing.”

Nothing.

No thing.

Think for just a moment about what a devastating word that is.

A spouse leaves the house in the morning in search of work. They come home just before dinner and, with slightly forced tone of hope, their partner asks, “Anything?”

No. Nothing.

Or the hospital finally calls. You’ve been waiting all day. “Doctor – what can we do? Is there more we can do?”

I’m sorry, the doctor says. There is nothing more we can do.

Or you’ve been up all night trying to figure out all the possible solutions to a problem at work in preparation for the all-staff meeting in the morning. But your mind has been completely blank and you figure this is the moment when all the wisdom and creativity you thought you had finally runs out. At the ZOOM meeting in the morning, your boss calls on you with an expectant tone. “Jason, in sales –  how about you? Any thoughts? Any ideas?” You slowly move the mouse to unmute yourself and you say, “Umm…no. I’m sorry. I’ve got nothing.”

Jesus said to his disciples, “You give them something to eat.”

And the disciples said, “Lord, we have nothing.”

Nothing.

No thing.

But think for just a moment about what a hopeful word that is.

Your checkbook is a little low this month, but your check engine light has just come on in the car. What do you do? Do you take it in and risk not making it to the end of the month? Or do you not take it in and risk wrecking the car further? You take it in. You wait anxiously to hear from the mechanic. Finally, she walks out, tosses you the keys and says, “You’re good to go.”

Relieved, you say. “Thank you so much. What do I owe you?”

She says, “Nothing. You’re a loyal costumer. This one’s on us.”

Or imagine for a moment that you’re 7 years old and you just can’t fall asleep. You don’t know why, but you’re just scared. Scared of what? Who knows. But you’ve built a wall of stuffed animals between you and the window, just in case anything is lurking outside. Then, two hours later, your parent comes in to check on you, only to discover that you’re still awake.

“Oh, sweet heart,” they say, “what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” you reply. “I’m just scared.”

And then as they draw you close to their chest, they say, “Oh, my love. There is nothing to be afraid of.”

Some of you might remember and might have experienced the Church tradition of reciting a memorized scripture verse in front of the entire congregation on Confirmation Sunday.

I once heard the story of a church that on Confirmation Sunday, they piled all of the Confirmands and their families into the 11am service and each of the confirmation students had memorized the passage from Paul’s letter to the Romans that we heard in church just last week.

They stood in a line, all robed up, and their teacher started.

“George, what shall separate you from the love of God?”

George recited Romans 8 – “I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, 39 nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

George beamed. His parent’s beamed.

The teacher moved on. “Mary, what shall separate you from the love of God?”

Mary recited Romans 8.

But as they moved down the line, the congregation grew anxious. At the end of the line, was Rachel, a child of grace and easy smile. But a child living with down-syndrome. Could she memorize Romans 8?

But the question final got to her.

“Rachel what shall separate you from the love of God?”

She smiled that familiar smile, and then she said just one word, “Nothing.”[1]

Jesus said to his disciples, “You give them something to eat.”

And the disciples said, “Lord, we have nothing.”

Nothing. It’s a devastating word. It’s a hopeful word.

In our gospel reading for today, Jesus is grieving. He has just heard that John the Baptist has been killed. John – Jesus’ mentor, his friend.

When Jesus hears what happened and he does what a lot of us do in a moment of profound grief – he withdraws. He goes to a deserted place. A desert place. A place with…well…nothing. It matches his own emptiness inside.

But then the disciples, along with a crowd of around 12,000 people, won’t leave Jesus alone though. I suspect there is both frustration and grace in that moment. To not be left alone in your own deserted place.

The contrasts in this story are striking. Here is Jesus in a moment of grief in a desert place – a setting of such scarcity and lack. And yet here also is Jesus, surrounded by his 12 closest friends and 12,000 or so more in the crowd following after him. It’s a setting of such abundance and fullness.

But then evening comes. And hunger strikes. There is that scarcity again. Every one is growing hungry and the disciples want to disperse the crowds. “Lord, this is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.”

Jesus doesn’t like this idea though. It’s a hard moment when you are grieving and the crowds of people start to leave.

Jesus say, “They don’t need to go away. You give them something to eat.”

And that’s when they say it.

“But Jesus, we have nothing. We have nothing but five loaves and two fish.”

We have nothing but five loaves and two fish.

Now at the risk of sounding ridiculous, or cracking a homiletical dad joke and setting the children of God off into giggles, the entire understanding of the moment depends on how you see the disciples’ but. The disciples’ think they have a tiny but. “We have nothing but five loaves and two fish.” According to the disciples – it’s nothing.”

But Jesus thinks they have a big but. “We have nothing. BUT we do have five loaves and two fish.” According to Jesus, this is everything. It’s everything they need.

The disciples think this is a devastating moment.

Jesus thinks it is a hopeful one.

So, Jesus takes their nothing. Their five loaves and two fish. And he looks up to heaven and blesses it and breaks and gives it back to the disciples. He then tells them to give it to the crowd. And all ate. And all were filled. And there was even more left over. There’s that abundance again.

One thing that stood out to me this week, one thing that I had never noticed before was that this is not the first time “nothingness” has come up in the gospel of Matthew. Some of you might remember a couple of weeks ago, Jesus told the parable of the sower. About the how sower sowed on the path, and on the rocky ground, and among the thorns, and then on the good soil.

Well the disciples asked Jesus why he speaks in parables, and in his explanation, we heard some disturbing if not confusing words.

Jesus says to them, “To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given. For to those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.”

From those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.

That’s what Jesus said in that chapter, but then here in the very next chapter, the disciples and 12,000 hungry folks are looking to Jesus and saying, “We got nothing! Nothing but five loaves and two fish.” And then Jesus takes away even what they have. He takes away their five loaves and two fish and turns it into more than enough.

I’m not entirely sure I know what Jesus’ words and actions mean – I just know that it takes my understanding of “nothing” and turns it upside down. What the disciples’ thought was nothing turned out to be everything. What once was a desert place turned out to be green pastures. What was a place of isolation and grief became a place of community and solidarity. What was a wasteland of human scarcity became feast of divine abundance.

If you think about it, this short story of Jesus and his followers moving from scarcity to abundance is the arc of God’s story with all of creation.

In the beginning, there was nothing. Nothing but God and the formless void. God was alone until God, like Jesus, decided that God didn’t want to be alone anymore. And so out of nothing, God made something. Something abundant and beautiful. An entire universe.

Then, later on in the story, God meets Abraham and Sarah who are nearing the late stages of life and they feel like it all has amounted to….nothing. Nothing but an unused crib. They don’t have any offspring. They don’t have any heirs. In their eyes, they have nothing. And so God takes their nothing and turns it into descendants as abundance as the stars who will bless the entire world.

Then God hears the cries of the Hebrew people as they have been taken into slavery in Egypt. Not only do they have nothing, they are treated as nothing. As machines made of flesh forced to do the Pharaoh’s labor. Then God takes them,  the lowest of the low, those who have absolutely nothing, and gives them everything when God says, “I choose you. I will be your God and you shall be my people.”

And then, finally, God becomes nothing. As the son of an unwed peasant teenager from a backwater town, God incarnate in Jesus is murdered through state sanctioned violence under the boot of the empire, and hung from a tree as a common criminal. But then God takes this moment of utter desertion and desolation and scarcity and fear and does not let it have the last word. Because the last word is always resurrection with God. Life. Joy. Abundance. Grace. Celebration. Enough for all. And even more.

That’s God’s story. That’s always been God’s story with God’s beloved creation. From scarcity to abundance. From death to life. From isolation to companionship. From nothing to everything.

People of God, God’s story is our story.

It very much feels like we are living at the beginning of the story. It’s a desert place. There is nothing around us that looks anything like the good life. Many of us are trying to not lose sight of the monumental things that are happening in our country, while at the same time are just trying to figure out the day-to-day needs, and for many of us it might feel like you have very little to offer. Like we have nothing to give.

We may feel like we are at the beginning of the story.

But our challenge as people of faith is to not lose sight of the whole story.

If Jesus can take the nothing that the disciples have and feed the multitudes, with more left over, then how much more can God still do with your life?

We like the disciples look at the little we have to offer and say, “We have nothing.” Or worse, “We are nothing.”

But when God looks at us and at what we have, God says, “This is everything. I have everything I need.”

Amen.

[1] Tom Long, from a sermon called “Standing on the Promises” found here: https://cep.calvinseminary.edu/audio-sermons/standing-on-the-promises-a-sermon-from-genesis-18-by-tom-long/