Sermon by Lou - Third Sunday in Lent

Exodus 3:1-15

The Rev. Lou Hays

So you think you’ve had some bad days? Consider poor Moses. He’s nicely settled into his new life in Midian after escaping from Egypt. He has married the priest of Midian’s daughter, he has a couple of sons and a flock of sheep to tend. All in all he’s enjoying a nice, comfortable life, one he’s probably looking forward to enjoying for years to come.

One day he’s out tending the flock and he sees something unusual, a bush on fire. Now it’s unusual enough to see a bush on fire, but this bush is blazing, yet not consumed. Moses makes the mistake of going closer to investigate, and his life is about to turn on a dime, to change forever, and not necessarily for the better. Moses doesn’t know it yet, but he’s about to meet God, and then he’s going to have take on Pharoah, and then spend the next 40 years leading a complaining, stiff-necked bunch of Israelites through the wilderness, and die before setting foot in the promised land.

You probably know the story of Moses in the bulrushes. It’s the classic Sunday School story.

There’s a new King, a new Pharoah, and Moses’ ancestor Joseph who saved the Egyptians from starvation has been long forgotten. Now the Israelites are viewed as a threat, they have been enslaved, and ultimately Pharoah is so afraid of their multiplying numbers that he orders all newborn Jewish baby boys to be killed.

Moses is born, and his mother places him in a waterproofed basket along the shoreline in hopes he will be rescued by someone who doesn’t know or doesn’t care that he’s an Israelite. Sure enough, Pharoah’s daughter finds and rescues baby Moses. When Moses is grown, he’s out walking one day and sees an Egyptian beating an Israelite, one of his kinsmen, and kills the Egyptian, hiding his body in the sand. The next day he realizes that he has been spotted, and Moses escapes to Midian, where our story picks up several years later.

This Lent we have been encouraging everyone in our sermons and adult programs to re-connect with God, to examine and deepen our relationship with God, so that we might more live lives of of greater love, mercy, justice and generosity, loving God and our neighbor. Getting to preach on the story of Moses’ encounter with God at the burning bush is like winning the lottery. It’s such a great illustration of the nature of God and God’s relationship with us. Of course, it’s also a little like trying to take a sip of water out of a fire hose.

Here’s my take on what the story reveals to us about God. First, God shows up in the most unusual places and unexpected times. Now admittedly, the burning bush was at the foot of Mt. Horeb, also called Mt. Sinai, the mountain of God. But it’s pretty much in the middle of nowhere. (If you visit St. Catherine’s Monastery at the foot of Mt. Sinai, you can actually see the bush. It’s no longer burning of course, and it’s in remarkably good shape for being so old. It’s a wonderful tradition.)

Having a burning bush in the middle of nowhere is a pretty good way to get our attention. God does know how to get our attention, but in my experience God is usually a little more subtle, more like the still small voice than rushing wind or fire.

Next, the story reminds us that wherever God is, it is holy ground. God tells Moses to take off his sandals, because he is standing on holy ground. The theology of St. Francis illustrates this point so well. Francis preached that all of God’s creation is holy and sacred. Not only did God create everything, God is always present. Metaphorically we should always take off our sandals. Think of the implications of this for the environment. When we pollute the air and poison the water and fill the landfills to overflowing, we are profaning the sanctity of God’s creation.

The story also tells us that God loves people and hears the cries of those who are in distress, those who are suffering from violence, disease, or persecution around the world. Imagine how God must be weeping for those dying in Syria, for the millions of refugees from the middle east, and children and homeless people who are suffering, whether in third world countries or in Pittsburgh.

And God chooses the most unlikely people to do God’s work, to rescue God’s people. Think of Paul Farmer and his work in Haiti and Africa, of Becca Stevens rescuing women from addiction and prostitution, of hundreds of engineers and doctors without borders doing lifesaving and life-giving work around the world. Like Moses, they probably all at one time said, “What? Not me, Lord.”

Imagine Moses, raised in privilege, then leading a comfortable life in Midian, who will ultimately become arguably the most important person in the history of the Jewish people, yet he knows he really isn’t up to the task. No wonder he says, “Who am I to go to Pharoah?” No wonder we say, who am I to feed the hungry, care for the sick, bring hope to refugees and to homeless everywhere.

The passage tells us it’s okay to argue with God, to object, to go mano a mano with the Big Guy. But it also tells us God is very persistent, God doesn’t give up easily. Five times Moses will raise significant objections to God about the wisdom of God’s plan. Finally God gets pretty ticked off at Moses, and says, in the next Chapter, oh, all right, you can have your brother Aaron help you.

And that in turn shows us that God will equip and empower us for whatever God asks of us.

You don’t know what to say? I will put the words in your mouth. You need some more help? You got it.

Finally, God reveals God’s name, the great “I am.” Names were hugely important to the ancients, revealing one’s essence, one’s character. Moses knew that the Israelites knew the names of the Egyptian gods, and may have forgotten about the God of their ancestors, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. God says my name is “I am who I am,” or “I will be who I will be.”

Like most things about God, God’s name is something of a divine mystery, suggesting for me that God is whoever or whatever God chooses to be, all powerful and beyond comprehension. I

also think, perhaps contrary to orthodox theology, that God not only changes but God’s very nature is to change, to be whatever God wants to be. (A quick footnote: when you hear Jesus say “I am” in the Gospel, such as I am the bread of life, or I am the good shepherd, he is using God’s name and declaring that he is divine.)

As we journey through Lent, I invite us to be on the lookout for the burning bushes in our lives. It’s likely to be in an unusual place. Perhaps at work. Perhaps at the grocery store. Among the disadvantaged. You may encounter the burning bush just when you think you have everything worked out and you think you know what you’re doing with your life. Good luck with that.

Remember that it’s okay to argue with God. But remember that God is very persistent. Take comfort in knowing that God will equip and empower you. But know that God chooses very unlikely people to do God’s work, people like you and me.

When you hear the cries of people suffering here or around the world, remember God may be calling you to rescue them.