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Prepare the way of the Lord.  This is how Mark starts his story of Jesus, with words from the prophet Isaiah describing John the Baptist as the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,’ (Mk 1:3)  But what does that mean?  Why does Mark start the story of Jesus with John the Baptist preparing the way of the Lord?  I don’t think it’s a literal reference to roadbuilding.  Out in the wilderness, there’s not many actual roads, but I suspect it’s not where Mark or Isaiah before him are headed with this.  So what does it mean to prepare the way of the Lord?

When these words in Isaiah are written, they are in a very different context.  The book of Isaiah is made up of a few different writers.  The first 39 chapters are what is called “first Isaiah”.  It’s where the prophet Isaiah speaks God’s judgement to Israel as they enter into exile in Babylon.  Our first reading for today (Isaiah 40:1-11) comes from the very start of what is called “second Isaiah”, where a new prophet in the mould of Isaiah speaks of God’s restoration of Israel as they return from exile.  As such, they are words of comfort and hope:

Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.  Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins.  A voice cries out: “In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.  Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.  Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.” (Isaiah 40:1-5) In the wilderness of their exile comes a voice of hope, a promise for God’s way to come through.  In a place where God has often felt absent, God’s presence will be made known to them.

But when we get to our Mark reading for today (Mark 1:1-8), he reads these words in a very different context, and that’s the nature of scripture, the nature of prophecy: those sacred words gain new meanings in each new context, so that we see the scriptures come to life again and again and again.  Mark looks at the ministry of John baptising at the Jordan River as that voice in the wilderness, preparing a way for Jesus.  And both Matthew and Luke follow suit when they write their gospels, also quoting this bit from Isaiah as they describe the beginning of Jesus’ ministry.

But what does it mean?  What does it mean to prepare the way for someone?

I’m reminded of the phrase that we sometimes use today: “to put someone on the straight and narrow.”  We usually use this for someone who’s likely to stray off the straight and narrow, and we probably don’t think of Jesus in that sense.  And yet, there is some evidence that John sets some guidance for Jesus to follow.  There are many biblical scholars who argue that John was a member of the Essenes, a Jewish closed community whose members sought holiness through a very austere and ascetic lifestyle.  At the very least, John was heavily influenced by the Essenes.  And many argue that Jesus was also a member of that Essene community for a time.  

What we know for sure is that Jesus bases his ministry on John’s example.  Matthew’s gospel starts it this way: In those days John the Baptist came, preaching in the wilderness of Judea  and saying, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”(Matt 3:1-2)  And how does Jesus begin his preaching?  After John was put in prison, Jesus went into Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God.  “The time has come,” he said. “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!”(Mark 1:14-15)  There’s a strong sense in which Jesus starts his ministry by following in John’s footsteps.

There’s an old saying that the student wears the master’s dust.  That is, that the student follows close behind the master travelling through whatever dust the master kicks up along the way.  I get the sense that Jesus follows John closely at least to begin with.  As soon as Jesus has been baptised, he follows John’s example and travels into the wilderness for forty days.  This might be one way in which we might think of John “preparing the way of the Lord.”

But I think there’s more to Mark talking about John “preparing the way of the Lord”.  That phrase would have carried special meaning for many of Mark’s readers.  The early Christians, before they were known as Christians, were sometimes known as followers of “The Way”.  If you were a follower of Jesus, you were a follower of “the way of the Lord”.  So when Mark writes about John “preparing the way of the Lord”, many of his readers would have associated that with the path which they themselves were following.

What makes this interesting is that this feels quite different to what we get later with the creeds.  The creeds are very much about the things you need to believe.  “The Way” suggests something slightly different.  When you read the teachings of Jesus, he doesn’t say much at all about what you need to believe.  He talks about the way you live your life, the way you relate to your neighbour, the way you relate to God.

In that Jewish tradition of master and student, when a student follows their master, while learning their teachings, they also learn much more about their master’s habits, their attitudes, their identity.  It’s a bit like our other story earlier, Duck Goes Meow (you can find this at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QXlKDIe81uo).  The mother cat’s influence on the little duckling meant that the duckling has learnt the language, but also the attitude and the identity of her mother cat.

When we talk about John preparing the way, I think it’s about him modelling behaviour and attitudes; it’s about him helping Jesus find their identity.  We don’t often think about Jesus as being influenced by others.  We sometimes think of Jesus being sent fully formed into the world.  The beauty of Christmas is that it reminds us that Jesus started as a baby, still needing to learn and grow and develop his understanding of who he was.  As well as Mary and Joseph, we get the sense that John the Baptist was also one of those moulding influences.

But what has any of that to do with us?  Well, I wonder who your Baptist might be.  I wonder who has helped form your attitudes, your understanding of who you are.  I wonder who has prepared your way.  But more than that, I also wonder who has prepared the way of the Lord for you.  I wonder who has helped you in how you relate to God, in your understanding of who you are as a child of God, in forming your Christian attitudes and identity.  Who has prepared the way of the Lord for you?

And now to flip that around, I also wonder: who are you preparing the way of the Lord for? 

Most obviously, there are your children.  Your kids will look to you for their understanding of who they are in the world, and part of forming that identity is understanding who they are with God.  I sometimes hear parents talk about not imposing a particular religion on their children so that the child can choose for themselves later, but that simply means that they’re modelling an attitude and identity of agnosticism, or at least of religious apathy.  Our kids use us as models for their identity in the world and with God.

But who else?  Who are the other people in your life for whom are you preparing the way of the Lord?  You might not think  that you have that sort of influence over anybody, but there are people who love you and respect you, for whom you are able to model what it means to be a child of God.

At the end of Matthew’s gospel, Jesus says to all his disciples, to go into the world and make disciples.  As we go into our respective worlds, do we think about how we might be making disciples?  What does it mean in our respective worlds to prepare the way of the Lord?  Because I can tell you now: you might be that voice in somebody’s wilderness saying, “Prepare ye the way of the Lord.”

Amen.

“Joy to the world, the Lord has come!”  “Come and worship Christ, the newborn king!” … except can’t really call Jesus newborn anymore.  I mean it’s been over 2000 years since Christ was born.  And if we’re being honest, in those 2000 years, the world hasn’t gotten a whole lot more joyful.

When you look at the prejudice and hatred that leads to war and death and destruction; when you look at the greed and avarice that leads to poverty and despair; when you look at the isolation and disconnection that leads to loneliness and hopelessness; then it’s difficult to think of this world as being blessed by God, where every knee has bowed in service to God.  Those words we heard from Isaiah aren’t entirely out of place for our own world today: We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a filthy cloth. We all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away.  There is no one who calls on your name, or attempts to take hold of you; for you have hidden your face from us, and have delivered us into the hand of our iniquity (Is 64:6-7).

Isaiah looks with despair at the world around him, not so different to our world today, and he sees the wickedness and evil in the world.  So he cries out to God, yearning for God to make themself present in this world, to tear the heavens open and come down, to exercise their authority to make things right:  O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence–as when fire kindles brushwood and the fire causes water to boil– to make your name known to your adversaries, so that the nations might tremble at your presence!  When you did awesome deeds that we did not expect, you came down, the mountains quaked at your presence (Is 64:1-2).

So why is this reading part of our preparation for Advent?  Isn’t this a time when we’re supposed to be celebrating the birth of Jesus?  Why can’t we take this time to forget about all the crap that’s in the world and in our lives, and instead just adore the beautiful baby lying there in the manger, while angels sing their beautiful uplifting music?

The thing is, to some degree, Christmas is a CROCK!  Pardon my Grinchiness, but the coming of the Messiah was supposed to be when God fixes the world, when God wipes all iniquity from the world, when God restores Israel to its full glory, when every person on earth acknowledges God as Lord, when God brings their people into a new paradise.  And that hasn’t happened.  God didn’t come into our world with this wonderful world-changing transformation.  No, God rocked up as a baby that grew up very human, very much like the rest of us, and to be honest, the world hasn’t changed a hell of a lot since then.

Most of the gospel writers see the ministry of Jesus as the starting point, the ignition point that would lead into the big transformation.  In our other reading for today from Mark’s gospel (Mark 13:24-37), he talks about Jesus coming again, this time in full glory, riding on a cloud, exercising God’s full authority over the earth, finally doing all the stuff that the Messiah was supposed to do the first time.

Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory.  Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.  From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near.  So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates.  Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place (Mk 13:26-28).

Well, Mark’s generation did pass away, and many more generations after his.  And we’re still waiting.  We’ve been waiting for 2000 years for this big second coming where Jesus arrives on the clouds and God fixes up the world.

I think part of our problem is in that word “waiting”.  We often think of waiting as something passive: simply biding time until something happens.  But I’ve worked in hospitality in the past and I can tell you that “waiting” is not at all passive.  When you’re in hospitality, waiting is very active.  Waiting is about being constantly on your toes, ready to step in.    

When we’re waiting for Jesus to come again, for the kingdom of God to come into its fullness, for God to complete all that they have promised, I don’t think it’s just a case of us all sitting around, twiddling our thumbs in the meantime.  I think waiting on Jesus to come is a bit more like waiting on tables.  In Mark’s gospel, when Jesus tells them to stay awake and alert, he’s not saying that, just in case they might miss it.  It’s not about being outside and looking up at just the right time while you’re just biding time, making sure you don’t miss it, like when the space station is going past and you want to see it.  Instead it’s more like waiting on tables: you need to be able to offer assistance whenever it’s needed, and for that, you need to stay awake and alert. 

I’m reminded of the Mitchell and Webb sketch, where the evil genius says to his henchmen, “Let’s hope Detective Harris meets with an accident” and then they spend the next nine months waiting for an accident to happen, before they realised that they were the ones who were supposed to make it happen.  Jesus doesn’t call us to idly wait for him to come again, but expects us to be actively involved.

I don’t know if Jesus is ever going to come riding in on a cloud.  But I do know that Jesus turns up in much more subtle, quieter ways all the time: sometimes it’s in the beauty of a sunset or a family at play; sometimes in an encouraging word from someone when I’m feeling depressed and dispirited; sometimes it’s in seeing relationships restored and people talking to each other again; sometimes it’s in sitting with someone through their pain and grief and sorrow; sometimes it’s in someone sharing their experiences of the divine in their own lives.  Jesus turns up in all sorts of unexpected ways, and it’s happening every day.  So maybe Mark was right.  Maybe Jesus did come in Mark’s time and is continuing to come again, as he strives with us, waiting upon the world with us, to bring about God’s kingdom. 

So, in this season leading up to Christmas, we’re starting with a reminder from the scriptures that Jesus is coming into all our lives, and just like with that birth in Bethlehem 2000 years ago, Jesus arrives in unexpected ways.  But more than that, it’s a reminder that it’s easy to miss Jesus showing up if we’re not paying attention, and like waiters at tables, we get to be actively involved.  We are the body of Christ, the hands and feet and voice of Christ, and sometimes when Christ comes again, it happens through us.

So when we talk about hope this morning, we’re not talking about something passive.  We actively hope for the kingdom of God, actively believing in God’s promise for our world, awake and alert to those moments when we might be the body of Christ.  As we busily prepare to celebrate the coming of Jesus on Christmas Day, let’s not miss those moments when Jesus comes into our lives today.

Amen.

Today’s story (Joshua 3:7-17) is a story of invasion, of the Israelite nation moving into territory that is already claimed by other nations.  Today on Remembrance Sunday, what do we do with this story?  How do find God in this story of invasion, without revisiting a kind of nationalistic Christianity that says that God, king, and country are the same: that leads us to believe that war is justified when it’s against people who are not the same as us?

Do we read this story as justification for the dominion of Israel over Palestine as Israelis continue to claim more and more territory, in a conflict that has built up to the atrocity that it is today?  Or do we look at this story with a sense of despair, recognising that around the world, we have all been making the same mistakes in the name of God, for thousands of years?  Or do we treat this story as a kind of morality tale, warning us against this sort of mentality?  Or do we read the story critically, resisting the tone of victory and triumph, and instead condemning the writer’s misrepresentation of God?  How do we approach this story, being critically and morally astute, being true to the God of love and peace whom we have personally encountered, while still honouring this invasion story as part of our sacred scriptures?

I think we need to start by recognising that we always understand God through our own lens; that the Israelites in the time of Joshua, and centuries later when these stories being written down, had a different focus to us as Christians in the 21^st century; that the way we understand God at work in the world will be influenced by our different understanding of how we see the world.

The way the story is told, in the time of Joshua, there is a group of people who have fled a place of slavery, and have spent decades wandering the wilderness.  In that time, they have grown in numbers and strength; they have received laws to live by and have developed some societal structures, and now they have come to a place where they can settle.  For the people writing this story, there is some argument exactly when this happens, but there’s a general consensus that it’s being written sometime near the exile in Babylon, where many Israelites are displaced from their homeland.  In each case, the Israelites of the time relate to this story as a story about connection to a particular place as being the fulfillment of God’s promise.  The Promised Land is exactly that, God’s promise.

When you’re living in the wilderness or in exile, you need to have stories that remind you that God has a promise for you; that God has something better in store for you; that this present wilderness is not your final destination.

I think that’s where we as Christians might gain some life from this story.  For us, the Promised Land is not a physical place.  Jesus talks about a Promised Land, a kingdom of God, as a way of being, a way of living, for the whole world: it’s the vision for the world that Jesus prays for when he prays, “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.”

In our own present wilderness, that’s what the Promised Land is for us, and it’s not tied to a particular piece of dirt.  We talked a couple of weeks ago about what the kingdom of heaven might look like.  We talked the absence of poverty and war and conflict: a world without injustice or prejudice.  We talked about a world of tolerance, a world where people care for each other, a world where everyone is valued and everyone is loved. 

I think that’s where this story can resonate strongly for us, because between that kingdom of heaven and here, between that Promised Land and this present world of ours, there is a huge river of fear and doubt in the way.

I could help bring about that paradise.  After all, there are people who are homeless while I have a few spare rooms; people who have no bed, while I have several spare beds.  There are people who have no food while we often end up throwing away leftovers.  There are refugees fleeing persecution; there are people suffering from loneliness; there are people who are grieving and lost.  If I truly believed in the kingdom of heaven, I could do something about all of that.

But fear and doubt get in the way.  I’m afraid that I will be taken advantage of.  I’m afraid that a stranger will want to harm me.  I’m afraid of losing the security that I’ve built around myself, both physically and financially.  We can talk about the kingdom of heaven; we can talk about God’s hope and promise for us; but it won’t happen until we can become vulnerable with all our neighbours, and that is scary.  That’s like stepping into a wild and raging river.  There’s a chance you’re going to get swept away by that.

So most of will wade in where it’s still reasonably safe.  We’ll step in to the point where we’re not risking anything of ourselves, whether it be giving a bit to a charity, or helping out a neighbour who’s in need.  Don’t get me wrong; these are all good things.  When we start to wade into the water, we start to get a glimpse of the kingdom of heaven.  When we start to wade into those scary waters, we get a glimpse of the beauty of heaven; we start to get a sense of what life could be like when everyone is loved and cared for.

But we also come a little closer to the scary depths.  This morning, there are some of our mob who are at a thanksgiving service for Uniting Aid, because they sacrifice some of their time and energy to help those struggling with poverty and debt.  They can tell us stories about how scary it can be to become too vulnerable working in that environment.

So that’s where we’re at.  We fervently want to believe in the kingdom of heaven, to believe in that Promised Land.  And most of us are prepared to wade a bit of the way into that river that separates this world from that one.  But to ask us to step in all the way, to ask us to risk being swept away entirely, that’s too big an ask.  So we settle for wading in and at least catching a glimpse of what life could be like on the other side.

At the same time though, we need to recognise those who have followed the way of Jesus all the way.  There are some who believe in the promise so fully that they give their all for it, who make themselves completely vulnerable, who dive completely into the river, trusting in God to keep them from being swept away.

I think of famous people from history like Martin Luther King Jr, like Mother Theresa, like Jim Wallis, like so many others who have given their all for the sake of the kingdom.  But I also think of those whose names I don’t necessarily know.  I think of the many humanitarian aid workers, emergency services workers, peace activists and protesters, missionaries and remote health workers: all sorts of people who give their all for the sake of the kingdom.  And with each of these, there is always the risk of them being drowned by the river, overwhelmed by the load of what they do to help us all get to the kingdom.

I know that God goes with each one of them.  I know that they are there because I’m not, and so as the people of God, we must support them, praying for them, encouraging them, supporting them, praying that God will hold back the deluge until more can step in, until finally, together, we might reach the Promised Land.

So today, on Remembrance Sunday, when we speak of sacrifice, let’s remember those who give their all for the sake of God’s promise, for the sake of the kingdom of God, and to be inspired by them.

Lest we forget.

Amen.

This story of Moses just before he dies (Deuteronomy 34) resonates strongly for me.  Not because I’m about to die, but like Moses, I have a group of people with whom I’ve been wandering, leading on a journey; and like Moses, I am coming to terms with the fact that I won’t be with those people for the next stage of the journey.

I suspect that many of the Israelites at that point might have been concerned about their future.  Will they survive without Moses leading them?  Will they still know God’s presence with them without Moses reminding them?  What will become of them?  And Moses might well be asking himself the same questions.  What will happen to these people when I am no longer with them?  What will happen to these people after I am gone?  I’m not trying to say that I’m as good as Moses but that I find myself in a similar situation.

Last week, we looked at the story of the twelve spies being sent into Canaan (Deuteronomy 13).  They came back and said that it is indeed a land of milk and honey, but the people there are frightening and hostile and it’s all too dangerous, and in the end the people decided to head back into the wilderness rather than face those fears.  Well, when we come to today’s story, it’s now thirty-eight years later.  The Israelites have been wandering for thirty-eight years.  All but two of those young leaders who went as spies the last time have since passed away.  It’s a whole new generation and they’re back at the border of Canaan once more.  And Moses has got to be wondering: will they chicken out again?  Will they fail once more to meet the challenge?  Will they decide to go back into the wilderness to die?

But this time, before Moses leaves them, God gives him a vision.  Far beyond the human eye can see, God shows Moses all of the promised land: from one extreme to the other.  And God says this is what I have in store for you.  God gives Moses a vision of what can be.  God gives Moses a dream for him to share with the people before he leaves them.

Dreams are powerful things.  Dreams are inspiring.  It’s said that the book by Jules Verne entitled From the Earth to the Moon was what inspired scientists to dream of landing on the moon, and that dream enabled it to happen about 100 years later, and that landing in turn has inspired others to dream bigger and further.

Most of us are familiar with Martin Luther King’s I Have A Dream speech: So even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. … I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.  I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

Likewise, Ghandhi, Mandela, Mabo, each had a dream for a better future for their respective peoples, a dream that inspired their people.  We can look throughout history and across the world to see how dreams of what could be, have inspired people to greatness.

People get inspired by dreams.

God gives Moses a vision, a dream of what can be, to inspire the people going forward.  Even though he doesn’t get to be part of the dream, he gets to be the one who inspires future generations.

I wonder if we still know how to dream.  Sometimes I wonder if our dreams are too small to be truly inspiring.  I get the sense with the Israelites out in the wilderness that a lot of the time, their dream was limited to simply being about survival.  The first time they came to the promised land, it was too much to claim this great land.  Their dream was simply to survive and so they wandered back into the wilderness. 

I sometimes get that same sense with us as a church.  Whether it be at a national level, at a Presbytery level, or even at a congregational level, our conversations get so caught up with simply surviving that anything more than that just seems to be too much.  It becomes almost impossible for us to imagine anything more than that.  But it’s hard to inspire people with a dream that is simply about survival.  No one is going to be inspired to be part of a group whose main objective is to still be around in ten years or twenty years or however long. 

Or sometimes our dreams get confused with our nostalgia.  We saw that with the Israelites in the wilderness.  Whenever things got hard, they would dream of what life was like back in Egypt.  “Moses has brought us into the wilderness to die.  Remember back in Egypt we were safe.”  “We’re going to starve out here in the wilderness.  Remember when we had meat to eat back in Egypt.”  Too often the Israelites’ dreams were simply about wanting what they had when life seemed easier.

Unfortunately, when I talk with church people about their dreams for the church, too often what I hear instead is nostalgia.  I wish we could have a big Sunday School again.  I remember when we had a thriving youth group.  I remember when church was bigger and better.  And just as no one is going to be inspired by a dream of survival, neither is anyone going to be inspired by a dream based in the past.  What happened in the past can serve as inspiration for the future, but it shouldn’t serve as our dream for the future.  Instead our stories of the past should inspire us to dream bigger, more courageously into an even brighter future.

Earlier on, we sang the words, “I will sing the wondrous story.”  But that story isn’t finished.  That story isn’t stuck in the past.  Jesus’ story in our lives is still ongoing and we are part of it going into the future.

I wonder if you’ve ever heard of The Royal Society For Putting Things On Top Of Other Things.  It’s a great example of what small dreams can look like.  Have a quick look at it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFrdqQZ8FFc  When our dreams are too small, they leave us with no sense of purpose, uninspired and lost.  But when Moses addresses the Israelites for the last time, he shares with them God’s dream; it is a dream huge and rich and full of promise.  It is a dream big enough to inspire them and their future generations.

At this point, I have a confession to make.  I’ve still got a couple of months before I finish up as the minister here at Noranda, so there’s still time, but God hasn’t given me a grand vision for what’s ahead for the people of Noranda Uniting.  Or at least, not specifically.  But in another sense, we have already been given a dream of what could be.

We often say the Lord’s Prayer together, which includes the words “May your kingdom come, may your will be done on earth as in heaven.”  In Jesus’ preaching, he often says to them, to us: Repent because the Kingdom of Heaven is within your reach.  I wonder what the kingdom of heaven would look like?  What would it look like if heaven was here on earth?  How would we recognise it?  How would we know if that prayer has been answered?  I wonder what that would look like in our local context.  What would it look like if Noranda and the surrounding suburbs was just like heaven?  I wonder what it would look like for Noranda Uniting to be involved in that future?  Take a moment to ponder that.  Take a moment to dream.

…………………… DREAM ……………………………..

Whatever you have imagined, that’s the vision, the dream, that I would love to leave you with.  That’s the future I believe in for each one of you, and for Noranda Uniting as a whole.  That’s the dream that I want for you to inspire others with.  I don’t care if you end up having a big Sunday School or youth group again.  I don’t care if you get another minister and have 150 people every Sunday in church.  I don’t care if your Tuesday Fellowship or your Craft Group flourishes.  None of that is important unless it is enabling the dream and hope for our neighbourhood, for God’s heavenly kingdom to come.

In our other bible story (Matthew 22:36-40), Jesus tells them that the greatest commandment is to love God with all your heart, mind, and soul; and that the second greatest commandment is to love your neighbour as yourself.  The reason this is relevant for today is that in Mark’s version of the story, the earlier version of the story (Mark 12:28-34), the teacher who asks Jesus the question also comments on this answer, not only agreeing with Jesus but commenting that these two commandments are more important than any acts of worship.

And Jesus says to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.” 

That’s the secret to the dream.  That’s how we get to the kingdom.  To love God with all that we’ve got, holding nothing back.  And to love our neighbours, the strangers who we don’t know, as much as we love ourselves and those who are a part of us.  It’s a big ask, but the dream is worth it.  If I can leave Noranda Uniting with each one of you carrying that dream then, like Moses, I can go into my next life in peace.

Amen.

God gets upset at a statue of a cow.  That’s our story for today (Exodus 32:1-14).  The Israelites build a statue of a calf and God gets upset.  I have to be honest with you, with everything in the world right now, I feel like there’s plenty of stuff for God to be upset about and a gold statue would rank pretty damn low on the list.

Over in Palestine, we’ve got God’s apparently chosen race declaring war on a population who have already been displaced and marginalised.  Closer to home, a people with the highest rates of incarceration in the world, a people with the worst standard of living in a first world country, a people who regularly encounter bias and prejudice, were told yesterday that they shouldn’t get a voice in issues that concern them.  Even closer to home, we live in a city where homelessness is a major issue, where people regularly have to choose between feeding their family or paying the utilities, where the gap between rich and poor just keeps getting bigger and bigger.  Closer to home still, one of our own mob, Neville, lies in a hospital bed, struggling to breathe, struggling to speak, struggling to eat, while his wife and daughters are distraught, scared, tired, uncertain, feeling more than a bit lost.  I think there’s plenty for God to get upset about right now.  And yet, today I get to talk to you about a story where God gets so upset, so full of rage to the point of considering genocide, because the people made a statue.

You tell me how that makes any sense.

But the fact is, God often doesn’t make sense.  How can there be a God who is all-loving and all-powerful in control of everything that happens, when the world is in the state it’s in?  I have to tell you that if I hadn’t experienced God’s love for myself in my own life, if I hadn’t experienced God as part of my life, then I’d think it was all a load of bollocks.  There’s no way such a God could exist.

But actually, it’s not that God doesn’t make sense; it’s that the world doesn’t make sense, and God doesn’t respond to this stupid, senseless world the way I expect God to, the way I want God to.  In this non-sensical world, I want God to fix it, or at the very least, I want God to make sense of it all for me.  But God doesn’t.  God doesn’t do what I want or what I expect.

In fact, God constantly refuses to be nailed down.  When Moses first encounters God, speaking to him from a burning bush (in Exodus 3), Moses asks what to call this god.  What name does this god go by?  And the voice from the flames simply says, “I am who I am.”  God refuses to give Moses a name to use.  God refuses to be pinned down, to be labelled, to be put in a box.

Last week, we looked at the ten commandments (in Exodus 20), and Susan told us how the first four commandments are about how we relate to God, and the last six are about how we relate to each other.  Do you remember those first four?  They are 1. Have no other gods before me; 2. Do not worship any graven image; 3. Do not use the name of the Lord in vain; and 4. Keep the Sabbath holy.  Notice in the second of these, God doesn’t just forbid the making of statues to false gods; God says not to worship any graven image.  That includes making statues of God and worshipping them. 

See, the problem with making a statue of God, is that any statue or painting or artwork of God shows a particular aspect of God, and that’s all.  And when you start to worship just one aspect of God, then you limit God to that.  When that happens, then you start to define God in very finite terms. 

Aaron wasn’t trying to be disrespectful to God when he created an image of a calf, a young bull full of vitality and strength and promise.  Moses has been gone for forty days and Aaron wants to find a way for the people to honour the god that brought them out of Egypt, and they’ve gotten used to worshipping the Egyptian gods by worshipping the statues.  It makes sense for Aaron to use this as a way to honour this new God who has brought them out of Egypt.

But the problem is that when all we see of God is what’s in the statue, then we miss the other aspects of God.  When all we see is vitality and strength, then we might not recognise vulnerability and love as being part of who God is.  We might even deny it when others speak of experiencing these aspects of God.  How dare you talk of God being vulnerable?  Just look at the statue of God and see for yourself.

And when we start to define God in very finite terms, then it becomes possible to know God exactly, to be able to speak on God’s behalf.  We see this especially when someone takes one verse of the bible and defines God purely and solely by that verse.  I know exactly what God thinks about this, and so I can tell you exactly what God wants you to do.

And that’s when things start to get really dangerous   When I start presuming the will of God, then I can start committing all sorts of atrocities in the name of God.  And so the second commandment leads into the third commandment: Do not use the name of the Lord in vain.  Over the years, we’ve come to think of this commandment as being about using bad language: “Jesus H Christ, that hurt!”  But it’s actually about using God’s name to promote your agenda. God says we should go to war!  God says we should kill all Muslims! God says … and so on.

We’ve seen this happen throughout history.  We saw it in 1493 when Pope Alexander VI decreed with the authority of God that a land inhabited by non-Christians was open to be discovered and settled, as if those people did not exist.  Using God’s name to further your own agenda.  Using God’s name in vain.

We saw the same thing happening before World War 1 and World War 2, where young men were called upon to serve God, King, and Country by going to war.  Using God’s name to further your own agenda.  Using God’s name in vain.

But if God is so unknowable, where does that leave us.  Can we never say anything definitive about God?  Well, the good news for us as Christians is that in Jesus, we get to understand God better.  We still can’t define God in any finite terms, but in Jesus we get a sense of God’s hope, God’s power, God’s vulnerability, God’s love.  In the book of Hebrews, it talks about Jesus as the exact representation of God.  In John’s gospel, Jesus says to the disciples, “If you’ve seen me, you’ve seen the one who sent me.”

That’s all well and good, but we’ve already got four different gospels which describe Jesus to us in sometimes very different ways.  And throughout those gospels, Jesus uses parables and metaphors to talk about himself, to explain who he is.  So even then, we can never be absolutely certain.

And that’s probably a good thing.  Because certainty can lead to arrogance; it can lead us into the path of us being right and everyone who disagrees with us being wrong.  But instead the mystery of God and the mystery of Jesus leads us into wanting to discover more, wanting to learn from each other, wanting to get to know Jesus better, wanting to come closer to God.

And in that mystery, we will discover far more than a set of finite facts about God; we will discover a relationship that is engaging and confusing and purposeful and frustrating: full of wonder and hope and love.

Thanks be to God.  Amen.

Back when I was in high school, one of the many holiday jobs I had at different times was working as a strawberry picker.  I tell you it was hard work: hard on the backs of your thighs as you’re bending over all day, picking strawberries from plants down on the ground.  At the end of each day, we got paid according to how much we picked.  We were allowed to eat some along the way.  It just meant we got paid less.  Now there was one woman there, I don’t remember her name, but she was amazing.  She could go at about twice my speed, and she never seemed to stop.  As for me, I went a bit slower, I had to stop to stretch occasionally, and occasionally I’d sample a strawberry.  So although I didn’t earn as much as others, It gave me some pocket money during the holidays, and we’d start at sun up and finish around eleven, so I still had time to go hang out with my mates.  I couldn’t complain.  But it would never have occurred to me that there’d be a situation where I could get paid the same amount as that woman even though she worked so much harder and faster than me.  I couldn’t possibly imagine a scenario where I could have rocked up at morning tea time and just worked the last hour or so and still gotten paid the same as her.

And yet, that’s what this parable of Jesus (Matthew 20:1-16) is all about.  In this parable, the landowner keeps on picking workers up during the course of the day.  There’s some who have been there from sun up to sun down, and they end up getting paid the same amount as those who’ve only just rocked up for that last hour or so.  Jesus tells this blatantly unfair story that goes against everything that we’ve been taught is just and fair.  If you work hard, you should be paid accordingly.  If someone isn’t pulling their weight or isn’t doing what needs doing, then they shouldn’t be rewarded for that, should they?  But what’s worse is that Jesus says that this is what the kingdom of heaven is like.  Jesus comes along and says that the kingdom of heaven is like this vineyard where everyone gets the same wage, no matter how hard or how long they’ve worked. 

Now there’s a few things to take notice of in this.  The first is that the reason why some workers have spent most of the day not working is because no one has hired them.  In our own society, there are almost always more people unemployed than vacant jobs available.  In fact, economists say that the ideal for economic growth is an unemployment rate of between 3.5 and 4.5 per cent.  Our economy is geared toward having people out of work.  And yet, so often those who are unemployed are described as lazy dole bludgers who aren’t interested in getting work.  Even back then, Jesus recognises that there are people who want a job, who want to work, but who can’t get any work.

With that in mind, have a look at what the landowner says to those workers who he collects later in the day: “You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.”  Not what you deserve according to how much you do or how long you work, but what is right.

Now I have to confess that there’s a couple of different ways to understand this story.  I grew up being taught that this story was about how everyone who becomes a Christian gets into heaven, no matter when in life it happens.  That’s certainly one way of interpreting this story.  But now when I read about Jesus describing the kingdom of heaven, I get the sense that he’s not usually talking about the afterlife.  More and more, I get the sense that Jesus’ vision of the kingdom is a vision of how this world should be in the here and now.

So what does it mean to pay someone what is right?  Or to put it another way, how much is a worker worth?  There would be some who would say that a worker is worth their value to the company.  The manager or the CEO should get paid the most because the company would struggle to function without them.  There would be some who would say that a worker is worth the value of their work: that what a worker can produce should determine their value.  The person in the factory who is most productive should get paid the most, because they’re the ones bringing in the most money for the company.

But in this parable, I believe Jesus is saying that every worker is worthy of having a decent day’s wage, not because of what they can produce or how important they are, but simply because everyone should have enough to live on, enough to meet their basic needs.  Or to put it another way, no one should live in poverty simply because they can’t get work or because they aren’t a highly productive worker or because their job isn’t considered important.  Everyone should be able to meet their basic needs.

Let’s now turn to the other story for today (Exodus 16:2-21) of the Israelites in the wilderness.  The story starts with them being hungry and they start grumbling.  Now there are times in these Exodus stories when the Israelites are grumbling and God gets quite annoyed at them.  This is not one of those times.  The people are hungry, and God hears that, and God responds to that.  God doesn’t condemn people for grumbling, especially about basic human needs.  God hears their cries and God responds.

The other thing in this story that I want to draw our attention to is the system God puts in place.  There is enough for everyone to have enough but it doesn’t keep.  In other words, each day, everyone can have enough for that day, but there is no profit in storing up extra.  There’s nothing to be gained by trying to get ahead, to become a manna merchant, to try and have more than you need in order to make a profit.  In this story from Exodus, there is enough for everyone but God discourages the people from trying to take more than they need.

It feels to me that that’s the common thread weaving through these two stories.  In each story, every worker gets enough to meet their basic needs, but those who work harder and longer to try to get ahead of the game are almost admonished for wanting to get more than what they need to meet their needs.  I think part of what Jesus is saying is that there is enough in this world for everyone to have the basics, but it doesn’t work when some people strive for more than what they need.

A lot of churches around the world use September as a time to focus on creation.  Here in the south, it’s especially appropriate as we experience all that spring has to offer.  So with a focus on creation, we take note of the damage done throughout the world when greed and profit drive our way of life.  We have seen the damage done to creation when our rocks and trees and oceans are seen purely as resources and commodities to be plundered and sold for profit. Recently, it was found that in South America, the Nestle company was draining some natural water reservoirs to bottle that water and then selling that bottled water to the locals who were forced to buy it because their natural water sources had been drained.  This is just one example of what happens when someone decides to monopolise what should be available for all.

There is sufficient in our world to meet the basic needs of all.  There is enough food presently for everyone in the world to be fed.  There are enough houses for everyone to have a place to live.  There is enough for everyone to be fed and housed, for the sick and infirm to be cared for, while still also caring for future generations.

Now this runs counter to everything we’re taught.  We’re taught from day one to try to get ahead, to be financially secure in case of disaster, to put aside for a rainy day, to build up the nest egg.  But these stories call on us to change that focus.  Rather than striving to get ahead, these stories call on us to ensure that everyone has enough, that no one goes without.  They call on us to value people, full stop: not to value them because they’re hard workers or because they’ve been with us a long time or because they’re important to the general running of things.  In these stories, we are reminded that everyone deserves basic human rights, that everyone is to be valued, no matter what.

I have to confess that not saving up for that rainy day, not building up the nest egg, not trying to get ahead financially just feels wrong.  It doesn’t just feel wrong; it feels irresponsible.  And yet, I believe this is the ideal that God wants for us.  When Jesus talks about the kingdom of heaven, he offers a vision of what the world could be, where everyone gets enough to meet their basic needs.  Not because of what they deserve but because it’s right.  Remember what the landowner says to the workers: I’ll pay you what is right.

I think what Jesus is saying through this parable, and what God is saying through this Exodus story, is that, in God’s eyes, everyone is worthy; everyone is deserving of the basics, that our priority shouldn’t be about making sure that we’ve gotten ahead in life, but that everyone is able to flourish.  It is a major change of mindset.  It runs completely counter to our capitalist society.  And yet, I know I want a world where no one lives in poverty, where everyone has enough.

The question is, how badly do I want that?

Amen.

When we talk about the Israelites travelling to the promised land, there’s a hymn that’s a bit of an old favourite: Guide Me O Thou Great Redeemer.  It used to be called Guide Me O Thou Great Jehovah.  Either way, I never really understood it.  It uses a lot of imagery from the story of the Israelites in the wilderness, but in the second verse, I’m not sure what the crystal fountain is, from whence the living waters flow.  There’s no crystal fountain in that story.  It’s quite confusing.

But more significantly, I don’t think of myself as a pilgrim through a barren land.  As I journey through life, I find that more and more it is filled with richness and beauty.  Then in the third verse: When I tread the verge of Jordan, bid my anxious fears subside; death of death and hell’s destruction, land me safe on Canaan’s side, I wonder if landing in Canaan meant to represent getting into heaven?  I think this is about being close to death and asking to get into heaven.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s some wonderful imagery in this hymn. It pictures God as sustainer, provider, deliverer, my strength and my shield.  All of these descriptions of God ring true for me in my own experience of God.  But the overall tone of the hymn suggests that life is this horrible piece of garbage that with God’s help, we just have to get through in order to reach the paradise of heaven at the end. And that’s definitely not my experience. 

My experience of life with God is filled with both ugliness but also sweetness, loss and grief but also joy and hope.  There is great and awesome beauty to be found in this world: in the cosmos and in nature, in our relationships with family and neighbours, in the simple expressions of life.  So I just don’t relate well to this hymn. But maybe that’s an indication of the disconnect between my story and the story on which this hymn is based.  Maybe I don’t relate to this hymn because I don’t relate well to the plight of the Israelites.  When we talk about today’s story (Exodus 12:1-14), we have to start by realising that our life definitely isn’t as unpleasant as it was for those Israelites living in slavery. 

The thing about this story from today though is that when freedom came, they needed to be ready.  They ate their Passover meal with their bags packed, with their shoes on their feet, a fork in one hand and a walking stick in the other.  Well, they didn’t use forks, but you get the idea.  This sacred meal is not designed to be a dining experience; it’s designed to be food on the go.  And they were ready to go quickly because they knew that things needed to change.  Life as a Hebrew slave in Egypt wasn’t good so when Moses tells them they need to be ready to move, they are.

I wonder if that’s the same for us today.  We talked earlier in the service about the different types of slavery that exist in our world: oppressive employment situations, addiction, abusive relationships, financial crises, poor health, and so on and we start to wonder what freedom looks like in those circumstances.  How quickly are we to turn towards freedom from those forms of slavery?

If we’re honest, I suspect we’re more like the Egyptians in the story; the status quo is generally good for us; we might not like it but we often benefit from the exploitation of the poor, whether it be through $2 T-shirts made in sweatshops or chocolate harvested by child labour.  Like the Egyptians, we get a bit upset by protests and demonstrations that disrupt our day; and when there’s change suggested, we worry that our way of life might be under threat.  I wonder if our reliance on our creature comforts is itself a form of slavery.  I wonder if our

Maybe that’s why we’re less ready to embrace change.  Maybe that’s why we’re hesitant about heading into a new direction.  I know that I preach a lot about the kingdom of God, this vision that Jesus offers for the world could be like, but I have to question whether I’m willing to sacrifice any of my current comforts for the sake of that vision.  Yes, we’re called into God’s vision for the world, but things aren’t too bad right now.  Maybe I can kick my shoes off and just enjoy the status quo for a bit longer.  The status quo is generally good for us, so when we’re offered the chance to make a difference, to help bring God’s vision to fruition, are we ready to travel?

For example, we’ve known about the threat of climate change for decades now but making real change could upset the status quo; it could upset our state’s mining interests and our state’s financial income, it might threaten the stability of our electricity supply, it might make some things more expensive.  We don’t really know what the outcome will be, but we’d prefer not to take the risk because we’re generally happy with the status quo.

We’ve got the opportunity in a few weeks to enshrine a voice for those who traditionally have not been well heard; but we don’t know what that change will bring.  We know it will upset the status quo, and generally we’re happy with the status quo.

When we look at forms of slavery like poverty, addiction, homelessness, domestic abuse, and so on, then freedom from those forms of slavery requires a major shake-up.  It might mean putting less money into our military so that we can afford addiction programs, or increasing taxes to those of us who are well off in order to support those who are struggling, or increasing minimum working conditions which might increase our own cost of living.  Freedom from slavery actually threatens our own comforts.  And that might bring into light our own enslavement to those creature comforts.

When we have the opportunity to do something to help offer freedom to someone who is bound, or when we have the opportunity to free ourselves of enslavement, where are we at?  God is calling into freedom and liberation.  The question is: have we kicked our shoes off and settled in, enjoying how things are now; or are we ready to travel?

Amen.

Jesus says that if you want to be a follower of Jesus, you must deny yourself, take up your cross, and then follow him (Matthew 16:24).  I don’t know about you, but I sometimes wonder if maybe it’s just easier to be a Christian these days than it was in Jesus’ time.  Let’s be honest, the most days I only take up my cross is when I pick up my little metallic cross and pin it to my shirt.  And as far as self-denial goes, you just need to look at my waistline to see that it’s not a huge feature in my life.  For most of us, being a Christian simply involves trying to be nice to people and basically not acting like a complete jerk.  And honestly, that’s not that hard to do.  I don’t know that I’d compare that to carrying a cross.  Or does being a follower of Jesus mean more than that?

When we look to the teachings of Jesus, then actually some of his stuff is pretty challenging.  It’s a hell of a lot more than simply being nice.  When we look at what he says about loving your enemies, about blessing those who persecute you, about turning the other cheek, about giving to those who have nothing, about putting unpopular people ahead of our friends and family, about giving away our wealth … anyone else starting to get uncomfortable with this list?  I sometimes feel like we’ve managed to adjust our faith to suit our own lifestyle, rather than the other way around.

It’s not far from the truth.  I was reading an article recently about some of the pushback that preachers in the States are getting for preaching some of Jesus’ teachings.  In a recent interview, Russell Moore who used to run the Southern Baptist Conference said, “Multiple pastors tell me, essentially, the same story about quoting the Sermon on the Mount, parenthetically, in their preaching—’turn the other cheek’—[and] to have someone come up after to say, ‘Where did you get those liberal talking points?'” “When the pastor would say, ‘I’m literally quoting Jesus Christ’ … The response would be, ‘Yes, but that doesn’t work anymore. That’s weak,”

Jesus says, “If any want to become my followers …”  Notice he says “If”.  Jesus recognises that not everyone will want to follow what he’s teaching.  Because if we’re going to take those teachings seriously, then that becomes a hard road to follow.  Suddenly we’re not making decisions about what’s best for me and my family, but instead we’re having a Christlike outlook that wonders instead what is best for the poorest, the most broken, for the least of us. 

It’s a lot easier to be nice and polite to people and go to church on a Sunday and sing praises to Jesus, and then call ourselves “Christians”.  To put it another way, it’s a lot easier to be a fan of Jesus than it is to be a follower.

We shouldn’t find it all that surprising then when we look at our story for today (Exodus 3:15) and we see the hesitation that Moses has when God calls on him.  In the story, God talks about the people who are suffering.  God says I have observed their misery; I have heard their cries; I know their suffering.  There’s no mention of the people praying to God, asking God for help.  They are suffering and God knows about it.  But the way God responds to this suffering isn’t by going in and freeing them all or by going in and wiping out the Egyptians.  No, God’s response is to call on Moses, to commission Moses to speak and act on God’s behalf.

And of course, Moses responds in the same way that I suspect most of us would: I’m not good enough.  I don’t have what it takes to change anything.  Who’s going to take any notice of me?  Surely there’s someone else more capable to do this.  And God then says to Moses, “I will be with you.”

I wonder why God chooses to it this way.  Surely it would be much more efficient if God simply answered their prayers from on high, if God responded with a simple snap of the fingers and just made everything okay.  But instead God calls on Moses to speak and act on behalf of God.  I suspect that we’d become incredibly infantile if God just fixed everything for us with a snap of the fingers.  Instead God calls on us to be their voice and hands, to act and speak on God’s behalf.

These days, not many of us get burning bushes that speak to us.  In fact, there are lots of times when I’m envious of Moses because he gets his directions from God so clearly.  God gives Moses a sense of purpose for his life without him having to search for it.  And yet, I know that God is constantly prompting me to see some of the hurt in this world, to feel some of the pain of those who are suffering, to hear some of those cries.  And the way God responds with Moses, the way God responds with us, is to say, “I have heard their cries so I am sending you.”  Now I don’t know about you, but when I hear that, I want to respond the same way as Moses: Don’t send me.  Who am I to do this?  But God responds the same way as well: “I am with you.”

I believe that there is some suffering in this world that you’re especially aware of.  I believe that God has touched your heart making you especially aware of the cries of some particular group.  I believe that God is saying to you right now, “I’m sending you to be my voice and my hands.”

I don’t know exactly what that looks like.  It might be like Moses, approaching your government official and speaking out for those who are suffering.  It might be getting to know more about what’s happening with those who are suffering.  It might be giving up your money, your time, your energy, to help those in need.  It might simply being someone who spends time with and listens with those who are suffering.  I don’t know what it looks like for you, but I know God is calling you.

How will you answer that call?

Amen.

Fear does funny things – and not in a “haha” kind of way.  In this story (Exodus 1:8-2:10), Pharaoh is afraid.  It’s been a few generations since Joseph brought his family down to Egypt, and in that time they’ve been breeding like rabbits: so much so that this family of twelve brothers has become a population larger than all of Egypt.  And this new Pharaoh doesn’t remember Joseph, he doesn’t know any of those stories, all he can see is a large population of people who are different.  So he becomes afraid, and out of that fear, he makes some irrational decisions.  He makes the Hebrews his slaves, but then he starts trying to kill them off.  Even though the Hebrews are a strong resource to be used for the good of Egypt, Pharaoh wants to destroy them.

Now we shouldn’t be surprised by Pharaoh’s fear.  Here in Australia, we’ve seen what fear does in how we react to people who aren’t like us.  In the 90s, we were being taken over by Asians; ten years later we were being taken over by Muslims; then we were being torn apart by African gangs; or at least, that’s what various politicians and media outlets have told us.  But they didn’t have to work too hard.  It’s very easy for us to become afraid of what we don’t understand, of that which is different.  For Pharaoh, he’s got a strange people whom he doesn’t understand who are becoming the majority in his country.  And so he responds to that fear in similar ways to what we’ve done here in Australia have in the past.  Whether it be the White Australia policy or turning back the boats, we’ve responded out of fear.

It’s good then as we explore this story to reflect on our other reading for today (Romans 12:1-8).  It says: Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.  This world encourages fear: fear of the unknown, fear of what is different, fear of the future, fear of change, fear of missing out.  But in Paul’s letter, he encourages them not to conform to the world’s fears, but instead to allow ourselves to be transformed by the renewing of our minds.

We need not fear because God is with us.  But more than that, Paul talks about this not conforming to the world’s standards and then immediately connects that with a reminder that we are part of one body.  We don’t just have God with us but we are surrounded by this community into which we are called.  In the midst of community, in the midst of the people of God around us, we will not be overwhelmed by the world’s fear.  We know that loneliness and isolation can be a leading cause for poor mental health, and for irrational feelings of fear and paranoia.  But we are not alone.  We have God but we also have this community of faith.  We are not alone but we are all part of the one body.

Loneliness is not just being by yourself; it’s about feeling disconnected and lost even when you’re surrounded by other people.  In a study done here in Australia in August 2021, it was discovered that 14% of people aged between 18 and 24 feel lonely at least 5 days a week.  That’s 1 out of every 7 young person feeling lonely most of the time.  We are often told that independence and self-sufficiency are great virtues to be sought-after, and yet we are made to be in relationship, to be connected to each other.  With loneliness so prevalent in our society, with so many feeling lost and alone, it’s little wonder that we are growing into a society that is filled with fear and disfunction.

Looking back at the Old Testament story though, we see in the character of Moses himself, someone who is also lost and alone.  Moses loses contact with his family, his culture, his ancestry, all the things that should help him discover who he is in the world.  Even his name, Moses, speaks to his isolation.  When Hebrew people wrote these Hebrew scriptures, they said that Moses was given that name because in Hebrew, moshe means to draw out, just as Moses was drawn out of the water.  Although it may be that Pharaoh’s daughter gave Moses a Hebrew name, but she has also named him in the manner of Egyptian names.  Just as the name Ramses (Ra-mses) mean the son of Ra; the Egyptian sun god, or Thutmose (Thut-mose) means the son of Thoth, the Egyptian god of the moon; so Moses ( -moses) means the son of, well, nobody.  Pharaoh’s daughter gives him a name that points to his not really belonging anywhere.  He has been cut off from his culture, and his ancestry.  He is neither Hebrew nor Egyptian but lost in between the two, without anything to connect him to either.  And when we get a little further into Moses’ story, we see him as someone also acting out of fear.

When we look at this story, it is vital to remind ourselves of who we are and where we belong: to know that we are part of a great community in Christ, part of one body together, interdependent and reliant on each other.  It’s in that connection that we find our identity.  We need not be lost or alone or fearful because we have God and we have each other, and they have us.

I know that most of us have grown up with self-sufficiency and independence as these great virtues to which we should aspire.  I know that most of us feel a sense of dread at the idea of putting someone else out, of being a burden to others.  But we are one body: interconnected and interdependent.  We need each other, and we need to lean on each other.  It’s not a burden to care for part of your own body.

It’s in that connectedness, we find a new culture, a new heritage, a new family, a new identity.  And because we can be sure in that identity as part of Christ’s community, we have no need to fear.  Christ calls us to be a community.  In many ways, that runs counter to the world’s ideas about self-sufficiency and independence, but the way of this world often runs counter to God’s hope for us, and God’s hope for this world.

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Amen.

It’s good that we hear this story today (Matthew 15: 21-28) because it fits well with some of what we’ve been talking about over the last few weeks.  These last few weeks, we’ve been looking at the stories of Abraham and his descendants and God’s promise to them.  Each time, that promise comes in three parts: that God will be their god, that their descendants will be numerous and powerful, and that they will inherit the land of Canaan.  Over the coming weeks, we’ll start looking at the stories of how the nation of Israel comes to claim that land known as Canaan.

But for today, we get a gospel story about a Canaanite woman, who comes to Jesus calling him, “Son of David”.  Now in Mark’s gospel, the story is a little bit different.  In Mark’s gospel, she’s a Syrophoenician woman, who comes to Jesus, begging for help.  But Matthew takes that story and changes it a bit. 

In the time of Jesus, there’s no such thing as a Canaanite.  Canaanites no longer exist as a particular culture or race by then.  The land of Canaan was long ago conquered by Israel, so it’s weird to refer to someone as a Canaanite.  I suspect that Matthew is inviting his readers to think in terms of their history, where the people of Canaan where their enemies, the ones who stood in the way of Israel inheriting the promised land.

So, on one side of the story is a woman whom Matthew describes as a Canaanite, an ancient enemy.  And on the other side is Jesus, whom she refers to as “Son of David,” son of the great warrior king of Israel.  In 1 Samuel, David is attributed with killing his enemies by the tens of thousands, in order to claim and protect the promised land, the land of Canaan.

Matthew takes this story from Mark’s gospel, and he changes the story a bit; he takes a story about a Gentile woman who comes seeking help from Jesus, and he turns it into an adversarial relationship, between a Canaanite and a son of David.  He sets the story as a story between ancient enemies.

In Matthew’s version of the story then, it doesn’t feel that surprising for this son of David to talk about the importance of the people of Israel, of how he was sent primarily for Israel’s lost, that he is the salvation for Israel, just as much as King David was in a much earlier time.  In Matthew’s version of the story, Jesus even goes so far as to suggest that the people of Israel are God’s children, whereas the Gentiles are the dogs beneath their feet.

But this woman turns that conversation around.  She points out that the dogs still eat the food that falls from the master’s table, that the children and the dogs are both reliant on the master’s graciousness and generosity.  She points not to their ancient division but she points to what they have in common: that they both rely on God’s grace.

It’s at this point in Matthew’s gospel that the ministry of Jesus starts to change.  In Matthew’s story of Jesus, when we get to this point, Jesus has very much been there for the Jewish people.  But at this halfway point in the gospel, things start to change.  Earlier in the chapter, Jesus just been challenging the Pharisees and teachers about how they define clean and unclean.  He says it’s not what goes into a person’s mouth but what comes out that makes them unclean.  Their rules around eating and their other rules about what’s clean and unclean define who they are as Jews, they inform their understanding of where they sit with God, of who they are as God’s people.  And Jesus has just challenged that way of thinking.

From there, Matthew then uses this story of a Canaanite woman to further challenge his readers’ understanding of what it means to be part of God’s family, of their defining of themselves as God’s people set apart.  Matthew tells a story where the people they saw as enemies, as different, are also understood to be part of the family, just as reliant on God as they are.

In fact, by the end of Matthew’s gospel, when we get to the very last paragraph, the last thing Matthew has Jesus saying to his disciples is for them to go out, baptising, teaching, making disciples of all nations.  In other words, Jesus’ mission is not just for the Jews but for all people.  We start to see this story today as a turning point for that greater narrative, where the story of Jesus turns from the salvation of Israel to the salvation of the whole world.

But so what?  This story was written for Matthew’s Jewish readers, to challenge them to think about Jesus as being bigger than their old ideas, to challenge their idea of being special in God’s eyes just because they’re Jews.  But we already see Jesus as our saviour, even though we’re not Jews.  So does this story matter for us today?

I think it matters a lot.  I think we can learn a lot from this story, because I think there are times when we also make assumptions about people based on their circumstances, their age, their clothes, the colour of their skin, their accent, and so on.

It’s only natural that we enjoy the company of people who are similar to us.  And yet this story, like so many stories of Jesus, calls us to look outside our comfort zone, to recognise and value people who might be different to us.

It’s a bit scary that, as the church, as what should be the body of Christ, we sometimes use this as a source of separation.  We sometimes have a tendency to differentiate those within the church from those without, to draw some sort of distinction in the way we relate to people.  Just last week I was talking to another minister who told me that his congregation only charges for weddings and funerals when it’s not a member of the congregation.  Is this because members of the congregation are more deserving of the church’s grace?

Indeed, I sometimes hear the sentiment, not necessarily from this congregation, that it’s important to look after our own members first.  Do we think of ourselves as God’s special children while people who aren’t members of the church can eat the crumbs that fall from our table?

When we look at this story in Matthew’s gospel, it definitely starts that way but by the end of it, we see Jesus listening to what this woman has to say, being prepared to be challenged in his own prejudices, treating her like an equal.  In fact, the way Matthew shapes his gospel, it’s only in the previous chapter that Jesus calls Peter, “You of little faith”.  This is the first of the disciples, the one on whom Jesus will found his church: , and Jesus calls him, “You of little faith.”  By contrast, when we get to this story only a chapter later, when it comes to this Canaanite woman, this woman who should be the enemy, who should be considered less than, Jesus says to her “Woman, you have great faith.”

It’s not until we get past the stereotypes, until we get past our preconceptions about people, until we actually get alongside people and get to know those who might seem different to us, that we start to understand just how much God is already in their lives, and how much we might have to learn from their experience of life and of God.

God is at work in different people’s lives in all sorts of marvellous ways, but there’s no way for us to encounter that unless we get past our prejudices and our stereotypes.
Amen.