Mailbox Legacy

Moses finished the work. He did all the things that needed doing to make the Tabernacle ready to be a dwelling place for the One Lord God Almighty among the people. Moses was obedient to God, following the instructions, establishing that sacred place in the wilderness.

And, at this point in our story, the last chapter of the book of Exodus, the tabernacle isn’t the only thing Moses has completed. His earthly work and mission are nearly done. Indeed, as we read in Deuteronomy, where portions of the story of the Exodus continue, in Deuteronomy, after offering the Israelites further instructions and procedures for worship and community organization, Moses leads them to the edge of the Promised Land.

This is where we pick up the rest of the story of Moses as it is found in Deuteronomy 34. Then Moses climbed Mount Nebo from the plains of Moab to the top of Pisgah, across from Jericho. There the Lord showed him the whole land—from Gilead to Dan, all of Naphtali, the territory of Ephraim and Manasseh, all the land of Judah as far as the Mediterranean Sea, the Negev and the whole region from the Valley of Jericho, the City of Palms, as far as Zoar. Then the Lord said to Moses, “This is the land I promised on oath to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob when I said, ‘I will give it to your descendants.’ I have let you see it with your eyes, but you will not cross over into it. And Moses the servant of the Lord died there in Moab, as the Lord had said.

Moses led the life of a hero. He ticks off many of the boxes of having taken a hero’s journey—he was called to leave the comforts of his known world to embark on a journey. He encounters numerous challenges and victories along the way. He recognizes that his life has a purpose far beyond his own interests and gains. This realization makes him committed to working for the good of others. But it’s the last part of the typical hero’s journey tale that eludes Moses, he doesn’t get to return to where he started. He doesn’t return to the land of his ancestors. Moses never really gets to go home.

Instead, Moses served as an intermediary between his ancestors and his descendants. He wasn’t to ever return to his ancestral home but, because he was who he was and he did what he did in service to his people, his descendants would arrive in that Promised Land of their ancestors, the land flowing with milk and honey. While one imagines Moses felt a sense of great satisfaction, relief, and even joy standing on that mountain top overlooking the places where his children and his children’s children would finally be able to settle in peace, I can’t help but wonder how he felt knowing he himself would not experience the full manifestation of the promises the Lord had made to him.

I imagine that it was bittersweet. While perhaps a bit sad for himself, Moses knew he was part of a story that was so much bigger than just his own life. He was a character in the story of the whole people of God. The story was not about Moses, the story was about the Israelites, of whom Moses was an important part.

When we embarked on this journey through the Exodus while we, ourselves, are wandering through a wilderness time, I did not plan for us to finish the story of Moses on All Saints Sunday. And yet, isn’t it fitting that this is how it’s all unfolding?

The story of Moses’ life, especially the way in which it ended, is an important reminder to us that we are all characters in this greatest story ever told. We are not the first characters to be introduced, nor are we the last. And yet, each of us plays a role in telling the story, living the story, and bringing the story to life. Our lives are chapters that continue the plot, enrich the narrative, and help to set the stage for generations to come.

This week as I reflected on Moses finishing his work on the tabernacle, a story that has been bouncing around in my head for quite a while kept coming back to me. It’s been years since this situation was first explained to me but upon that first telling I thought, “there’s a sermon illustration in there somewhere.” And by golly, this is the day I finally get to use it.

It was late summer 2011 and I went to visit Howard and Connie Eisenhart in their new home. They have a lovely home on a quiet street that was REALLY quiet nine years ago because their house was one of the only ones that had been built in their development. Somehow during that visit the topic of their mailbox came up. I think I was confused about it because there was a mailbox in front of their home but there was also a bank of mailboxes at the entrance of the development. Connie explained that there weren’t enough people living in the neighborhood yet to have curbside mail delivery and so they did go to the bank of boxes to get their mail. However, there was an agreement with the postal service that when there were a certain number of residents on the street, curbside delivery would begin. Anyone building a home had to install the approved mailbox when their home was built, even though the boxes would likely not be used for quite some time.

At the time I thought to myself that while I would be annoyed to have to buy a pricey mailbox that would be sitting there empty every time I walked past it to trudge down to the mailboxes where my mail was actually delivered, there was something kind of cool about creating a home and neighborhood not just for one’s self, but for those who would follow.

It reminds me of the church—we don’t build up and equip the church just for ourselves or for the things we want to accomplish today. Rather, we take a longer-term view, considering how we can contribute to and support a church that will continue to minister to its members and wider community long after we are gone. Every person whose picture we saw and name we read this morning was, like Moses, an intermediary—they served and mentored and gave and inspired while they were alive and, because they did, we remember them and continue to build upon their legacy today. We stand on their shoulders even as we continue to build a community in which all of God’s children feel welcome and wanted.

In preparation for this sermon I checked in with Connie about her mailbox. Unfortunately, their first mailbox was the victim of a hit and run and had to be replaced with another regulation pricey mailbox. But, the good news is, as of about a year ago, the curbside mailbox is now being used for daily mail delivery because enough people have moved into the neighborhood. The bank of mailboxes at the entry to the development has been removed. But, and here’s where the story really gets me in all the feels, it’s not just that Connie and Howard now have more people in their neighborhood. It’s the people who are in their neighborhood that really make this story special. Dave and Pam Shaberly and Jaime and Laura Stursma all live in the neighborhood. Bill and Shar Maul are building a new home just down the street from the Eisenharts and Jack and Leah Dunn will move into their new home just across the street from Howard and Connie before the year is out. When I looked around Howard and Connie’s neighborhood back in 2011, imagining it filling up with mailboxes, houses, and people, it never occurred to me that some of those mailboxes would one day fill with letters and packages addressed to people I know and love.

Friends, this is what the people of God do. We install mailboxes we may never get to use, build up communities, share resources, mentor each other, and do the work God calls us to do not just for ourselves, but with the help of those who have gone before and in order that we might encourage and inspire those who will follow. We stand in a thin place between the Great Cloud of Witnesses and the next generations. Ours is a holy task, a sacred honor as we offer our gratitude for those who have gone before, seek to love our neighbors as we love ourselves in the here and now, and work that God’s will would be done on earth as it is in heaven for those who would follow. Thanks be to God that we get to be a part of all of this right here and right now. Thanks be to God, indeed.

God. Was. ANGRY. (And so was Martin Luther.)

Yes, you heard that correctly—after speaking through a burning bush to tell Moses to return to Egypt so that the Israelites could be freed from slavery AND protecting the Israelites from the ten plagues sent to convince Pharaoh to free the Israelites AND appearing as a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night so the Israelites wouldn’t get lost AND parting the Red Sea so the Israelites could pass through it AND sending manna and quail so the Israelites would have something to eat AND sending potable water to come gushing out of a rock so the Israelites would have something to drink AND giving the Ten Commandments so the Israelites would know how to behave, after months of protecting them, providing for them, and guiding them, God has had it with them and says to Moses, “Now leave me alone so that my anger may burn against them and that I may destroy them. Then I will make you into a great nation.”

That’s right, at this point in our story God wants to off the Israelites, spare Moses, and start over—somewhat reminiscent of what happened with Noah and the Ark. Just shut it down and reboot, hoping it’ll work this time. But Moses, though he has lamented the way the Israelites treat him what with their whining and moaning—Moses comes to the defense of the people saying to God, “Turn from your fierce anger; relent and do not bring disaster on your people.” That Moses . . . Who could have blamed him had he said, “Finally! I thought you’d never offer. They’re driving me nuts. Go ahead and get rid of them.” But no, Moses came to their defense even though they have committed the greatest offense—idolatry.

When they grew impatient waiting for the Lord, when Moses didn’t come when they had expected him—even though they still had manna every morning and quail every night—even though they still had sweet water to drink and a day of rest to enjoy—even though Moses had left them with their other leaders, including his brother Aaron, even though all of that, in their impatience they fell into the temptation of wanting a god they could see and touch. They wanted to be like the other folks—folks like the Canaanites who had little statues of their gods that they could hold in their hands and worship. Wanting to be like them the Israelites melted down their gold and made that golden calf and began to worship it. And if there’s one thing, one thing that could cause the One Lord God Almighty, the I Am Who I Am, to abandon the covenant God had made with their ancestors Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph—Sarah, Rachel, Rebecca, and Asenath—it was idolatry.

It’s a word that gets thrown around casually these days—we even have a show we call American Idol. But idolatry is just as much an issue in the spiritual lives of the people of God now as it was when the Israelites first made that stupid calf in the wilderness. Anytime we put anything or anyone above God—anytime we place our trust in anyone or anything other than the One Lord God Almighty—be it a celebrity, politician, job, relationship, hobby, bottom line, philosophy, affiliation, or anything else any one of us could name—anytime anyone or anything is prioritized above God, that is idolatry. And it makes God angry.

And it made the Protestant Reformers angry, too. (Were you wondering when I was going to bring up the Reformation during a sermon on Exodus on Reformation Sunday?) Indeed, a sermon on idolatry is well suited for Reformation Sunday because the Protestant Reformation was the result of a number of reformers becoming angry with the idolatry promoted by the church of the day.

Of idolatry Martin Luther wrote in his Catechism—

[Of the first commandment] “You are to have no other gods.” That is, you are to regard me alone as your God. What does this mean, and how is it to be understood? What does “to have a god” mean, or what is God?

Answer: A “god” is the term for that to which we are to look for all good and in which we are to find refuge in all need. Therefore, to have a god is nothing else than to trust and believe in that one with your whole heart. . . Anything on which your heart relies and depends, I say, that is really your God.”[1]

Ouch, Marty! That’s quite the comeuppance. And it’s an invitation for each of us—these 503 years after the Reformation began—it’s an invitation to think seriously about what our hearts are relying and depending on these days . . . Is it the One Lord God Almighty or is it something or someone else . . .

But the Reformation wasn’t just Luther railing against idolatry. His cohort down in Geneva, John Calvin, also had plenty to write about it, including reflections on the Israelites and their behavior in our passages for this morning.

So it goes. Man’s mind, full as it is of pride and boldness, dares to imagine a god according to its own capacity; as it sluggishly plods, indeed is overwhelmed with the crassest ignorance, it conceives an unreality and an empty appearance as God. To these evils a new wickedness joins itself, that man tries to express in his work the sort of God he has inwardly conceived. Therefore the mind begets an idol; the hand gives it birth. The example of the Israelites shows the origin of idolatry to be that men do not believe God is with them unless he shows himself physically present. “We know not,” they said, “what has become of this Moses; make us gods who may go before us.” [Ex. 32:1.] They knew, indeed, that this was God whose power they had experienced in very many miracles; but they did not trust that he was near them unless they could discern with their eyes a physical symbol of his countenance, which for them would be a testimony of the ruling God. Therefore they wished to recognize from an image going before them that God was the leader of their march. Daily experience teaches that flesh is always uneasy until it has obtained some figment like itself in which it may fondly find solace as in an image of God. In almost every age since the beginning of the world, men, “in order that they might obey this blind desire, have set up symbols in which they believed God appeared before their bodily eyes.[2]

For Calvin, God is I Am Who I Am not I am this statue y’all made when you melted down your gold. God cannot be confined to our perceptions, our physical representations, our preconceived notions. God is so much larger and mysterious than any one thing we might choose to represent God and when we choose a representation of God, we are being idolatrous.

Luther rails against idolatry as anything in which we find refuge that is not God. Calvin rails against idolatry as anything that limits Gods potential, identity, or nature. And then there’s Uldrich Zwingli, the most zealous of the reformers, championing the cause of the Protestant Reformation in Zurich. Of idolatry Zwingli wrote, “That to set up pictures and to adore them is also contrary to Scripture, and that images and pictures ought to be destroyed where there is danger in giving them adoration.” Zwingli saw to it that any graven image was destroyed, any fresco was painted over, any stained glass window was smashed and replaced with clear glass, and he even went so far as to have the church organ removed from his parish in Zurich and there are legends about the church organist weeping over the remains of it that were scattered in the streets outside the church. For Zwingli, to adore anything other than God was to commit idolatry.

The Reformation was, in part, an effort to bring the church back to the simplicity and authenticity of the early church by removing all idols and idolatrous behavior from the church. Extensive hierarchy, expensive buildings, and excommunicating people who didn’t agree to make the Holy Roman Church god instead of making God god all needed to come to an end.

To bring an end to the idolatry and to reform the church, the reformers relied on five principles of reform. These are the five solas—sola meaning “alone.”

Sola scriptura—scripture alone. “Scripture is to be understood as the sole source of divine revelation, the only inspired, infallible, final, and authoritative norm of faith and practice.”[3] Not the priests or the bishops or the pope—scripture and only scripture.

Sola fide—faith alone. “Under the banner of Sola Fide, you can stand in the midst of persecutions and threats, sufferings and disease, you can even face death, for it is not the strength of your faith that saves you, it is the object of your faith.  And the object of your faith has destroyed death and hell by dying and rising again for you.  Just as nothing can now conquer Christ, so nothing can conquer you, for you are connected to Christ by faith.”[4]

Solas Christus—Christ alone. By this time the Roman church had built up a complicated sacramental system by which it claimed to dole out salvation, grace, and redemption. “Martin Luther and other Reformers realized that this elaborate system of works obscured the person and work of Christ as it was so clearly taught in scripture. Luther argued that the papacy, through this sacramental system, had usurped the prerogatives of Christ, making itself the dispenser of God’s grace. Christ alone, and not the church, is our only Mediator.”[5]

Soli Deo Gloria—glory to God alone. Not to a golden calf, not to the person in the mirror, not to a nation, not to the almighty dollar, not to anyone or anything else—all we are, all we have been given, all we ever will be is for the glorification not of ourselves or any other earthly entity but of the One Lord God Almighty.

Sola Gratia—only grace. Salvation from sin and death is provided by God’s unmerited favor alone, and we can do nothing to earn it. No indulgence can buy it, no good work can earn it, no life well-lived can guarantee it. As one scholar describes it, “We are not saved by pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps. The fallen sinner is not a drowning man who merely needs to do his part by reaching out to grab the life preserver tossed by God. No, the sinner is in a far more serious condition. He cannot grab a life preserver because he is simply drowning. He is a cold, dead, lifeless corpse on the bottom of the sea. If he is to be saved, he will not be able  to cooperate with God. His salvation will be an act of pure grace, and grace alone, on the part of God.”[6] In other words, not only does “the Lord helps those who help themselves” NOT appear in scripture, it is antithetical to the gospel of Jesus Christ ergo it has no place in sound Christian doctrine, thought, or practice.

And oh how far we have come from the golden calf and the Israelites who made it except we haven’t because idolatry, despite the reforms of the Reformation, idolatry persists—in the ancient Middle East, in medieval Europe, in the right here and right now because, as Calvin points out, we are prone to it. And when we fall into it, when we place our trust, our allegiance, our hearts in the hands of anything or anyone that is not God, that is idolatry.

But to resist idolatry . . . now that is a wonderous thing. To resist falling prey to the idols of this world is to be lifted up into a place of mystery and unknowing—to a place of trust—to a place of the peace that passes all understanding—to a place of trusting an unknown future to a known God—whether God be seen or unseen, heard or unheard, trusting that God is with us, even here and even now in the wilderness waiting times, indeed in all the times, of our lives. Thanks be to God.

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[1] Martin Luther, Large Cathecism, The First Part: The Ten Commandments.

[2] https://postbarthian.com/2019/08/06/the-human-heart-is-an-idol-factory-a-modern-critique-of-john-calvin/

[3] https://reformationbiblecollege.org/blog/the-five-solas

[4] https://lutheranreformation.org/theology/sola-fide/

[5] https://reformationbiblecollege.org/blog/the-five-solas

[6] https://reformationbiblecollege.org/blog/the-five-solas

Of Pants and Heart Promptings

When I was in the psych ward we wore regular street clothes. I was four months pregnant at the time but the clothes I had with me weren’t maternity clothes. Noticing my khaki capris were too tight, a nurse asked if I wanted her to call my husband to ask him to bring my maternity clothes from home. I explained that I didn’t have any. She wondered why and I explained it was because I hadn’t felt like buying any. I told her that I imagined shopping for maternity clothes would be such a happy thing and because I hadn’t felt happy in weeks, I hadn’t gone shopping. I told her I’d get maternity clothes when I was feeling better—when I was more in the mood for it.

She responded telling me that it could be months before I was in the mood for buying maternity clothes and that in the meantime my pants were obviously uncomfortable. She was gentle but firm when she told me “sometimes our feet need to go before our hearts.” She said, “You need to go get pants. It doesn’t matter how you feel about it.” A few days after getting out of the psych ward we went to Target for maternity clothes. While I was freaking out on the inside because I was still living with an anxiety and panic disorder, I managed to try on and purchase a few pairs of maternity pants.

I only wore those pants for five months but I carry the lesson of those pants with me fifteen years later . . . Sometimes our feet have to go before our hearts. Indeed, sometimes it is our feet that lead us to where we need to be in order for our hearts to get into the game. There are so many things I have done that I haven’t felt like doing, things I didn’t want to do even though they were the things that needed to be done, because of that nurse’s advice. Indeed, sometimes my feet have walked many steps before my heart has caught up. I am so grateful to that nurse for her sage advice. I would have missed out on so many things if I’d waited for my heart to prompt my body into action.

And that is why I had some mental indigestion when I read a part of our passage from Exodus for this morning. And God said to Moses, “You are to receive the offering for me from everyone whose heart prompts them to give.” Hmmm . . . That does not exactly sync with the wise advice about our feet sometimes needing to go before our hearts that I’ve been embracing for years. I have, in large part, counted on my heart to catch up with my body, not for my heart to prompt my body or my actions. And yet, here the Israelites are instructed to give of their offerings at “the prompting of their hearts.” Whatever is given in the offering will be used for the construction of the Tabernacle—the place on earth where God would dwell among them. It would be a sanctuary. But they needed resources to build it and the resources were to be given as peoples’ hearts “prompted” them to give.

And that’s understandable. God isn’t demanding payment—that’s what Pharaoh did—that’s what crooked, oppressive leaders continue to do—demand transactional exchanges to get people to do what they want. It’s very tit for tat. God’s not like that. God wants us to want to give. God wants us to desire to live according to the law. But God doesn’t need us to DO anything, God wants us to BE something—responsive, loving, grateful children of God our loving and merciful Creator. God’s not looking for minions. Yes, as we talked about last week, God yearns for our obedience. But God created us with freewill—we can be obedient or not. We can give or not give as our hearts prompt us. This certainly doesn’t mean there are not consequences for poor choices—that’s not the point. The whole point is that we are given the choice to give, a choice that, according to today’s scripture, is based on the promptings of the heart.

And again, here’s where it gets a bit sticky for us. What I’m discerning based on personal conversations, social media posts, and interviews I read, many people are, to use a phrase my grandma used sometimes, people are heartsick. To be heartsick is to be “despondent, typically from grief or loss of love.” I heard my grandma use the term to describe many difficult situations, but one example really stands out in my memory—when she used the phrase to describe how she felt upon receiving the news that President Roosevelt had died during World War II. My grandpa was stationed in the South Pacific when Roosevelt died. My grandma feared that Roosevelt’s death would lead to the defeat of the Allied Forces. She used to tell us that when the president’s death was announced, she was near the Hancock County Courthouse in Findlay, Ohio where she worked. Upon hearing the news she sat down on the courthouse steps and began to cry because she was heartsick—for my grandpa, for herself, and for her entire country. As she told it, all her heart was prompting her to do that evening was sit on the courthouse steps and cry. But no matter the condition of her heart, she eventually got up from that step and went back to the small apartment she shared with a friend and wrote my grandpa a letter, as she did every single day of his over three years of deployment during World War II. I imagine there were days when her heart wasn’t prompting her to write, perhaps that day especially, but each day she put pen to paper, hoping to bring a bit of light to my grandpa’s world far, far away across continents and oceans.

Friends, my grandma was heartsick over the health and well-being of the people she loved and heartsick over the future of her country. With wars dragging on in the world, heightened division in our country, ghastly inequalities, and this dreadful pandemic just to name a few of the realities of 2020 . . . is it any wonder that some of us might be feeling heartsick, too?

Last week someone told me how much she usually loves the season of autumn. She buys mums and gourds and pumpkins to decorate and celebrate the season. As of last week, she hadn’t purchased a single one of these things because she “just wasn’t feeling it this year.” Or, to put it within the context of today’s scripture passage, her heart wasn’t prompting her to do so. And because it wasn’t, it sounded like she felt a mixture of guilt, regret, and grief every time she came home to an empty porch that, just a year before, bore the colorful fruits of the autumn harvest. From what I could tell, she was heartsick and that empty porch was a symptom, not the source, of the dis-ease.

Friends, many of us are experiencing feelings of dis-ease and I’m not sure we can count on heartsick hearts to prompt us to do much of anything when we, like so many who have gone before us, are living through such difficult times. I don’t know about you but when I perceive that things are going well for me and the people I love, my heart is very, well, “prompty”. I’m prompted to give. I’m prompted to help. I’m prompted to celebrate. I’m prompted to get stuff done. I’m prompted to try new things. I’m prompted to take care of myself. But when I am heartsick, as I was in the psych ward, I’m, just like my mumless friend described it, I’m just “just not feeling it.”

There’s nothing in scripture to tell us, at this point in the story, how the Israelites were feeling about their situation. At other times we learn that they are stubborn or grateful or proud or still necked or resentful. But on this occasion, when they are invited to give their offerings as their hearts prompt them, the text falls silent about their feelings. Were they heartsick, still missing the fleshpots of Egypt and the lives they once knew? We don’t know. But, at some point, whether it was by the prompting of their hearts, their feelings of obligation, or because they really wanted a tabernacle in which to worship, at some point they gave enough offerings such that a tabernacle could be built and they did, finally, have a place to dedicate their offerings, lift their praise, and join their voices together in song and prayer. They built God a sanctuary so that God could dwell among them–whether by the promptings of their hearts, or simply putting one foot in front of other with the hope that at some point their hearts would catch up on the journey, we can’t know. But somehow, with God’s help and no matter if, or if not they were feeling it, they got it done.

Now friends, I’ve always been taught that sermons aren’t supposed to give advice. Preaching isn’t therapy. And worship isn’t the Doctor Phil Show. But, if you are heartsick, as I was once heartsick in tight pants in a psych ward and my grandma was heartsick on the steps of the Hancock County Courthouse back on April 12, 1945, if you are heartsick and just not feeling it, perhaps you do need me to pass along the advice from the psych ward nurse. “Sometimes your feet have to go before your heart does.” Indeed, I don’t think this is really contrary to the message from this morning about responding to the promptings of our hearts. Rather, it helps to get our hearts primed to prompt us.

Taking the next step, even if it means leaving our hearts behind for a bit, is not faking it until we make it. It’s actually the making of it, with each step we take, making and remaking our lives and our world, with the help of our creator, potter, God. We’re cocreators of our reality. It’s not going through the motions, it’s letting the motion of the Holy Spirit move through us. It’s knowing that, with each step—be it prompted by our hearts or made out of sheer grit and perseverance—with each step, God is our guide and guardian—a fact that is true whether we’re feeling it or not. God and God alone is our guide and guardian, the only one worthy of our trust and praise, the only one to whom our truest allegiance belongs. The One, Lord, God Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth, and yet the One, Emmanuel, God with us, who walks with us, giving us the courage and wisdom to take the next step.

I’d Been Fine But for the Donkey

I wonder if, as you read through or listen to the Ten Commandments, you also see them as an opportunity to take a short personal moral inventory.

Since I was a child, I have viewed the Ten Commandments as a kind of short-answer quiz, especially the ones that begin with “Thou shall not.”

Thou shall not steal. Have I stolen anything today? No.

Thou shall not give false testimony against your neighbor? Have I lied today? No.

Thou shall not commit adultery. Have I committed adultery? Are you kidding me? Not a chance.

Thou shall not misuse the name of the Lord your God. Have I taken the Lord’s name in vain? Nope.

Thou shall not murder. Have I murdered anyone? No.

So far so good . . . I’m scoring well today . . .

Thou shall not covet thy neighbor’s wife, male servant, etc., etc. Have I coveted my neighbor’s wife, his male servant, his female servant, his ox, his donkey . . . Uh. Oh. Wouldn’t you know it? My neighbor has a donkey and oh how I covet that donkey. I do so love donkeys. The neighbor’s donkey lives too far away for me to see it but somedays I can hear it and on those days, I confess, I covet my neighbor’s donkey.

And I also confess that when I understand the Ten Commandments as a check list for approved personal behaviors that I am, in large part, missing the point of the Ten Commandments. They are so much more than a check list for getting time off for good behavior. Their higher purpose is well-explained by Amy Erickson, associate professor of the Hebrew Bible at Iliff School of Theology. 

The commandments, however, are not simply a list of rules given to whip into shape a stiff-necked people; instead, they are better viewed as a means to form and nurture an alternative community, bound not by common goals of wealth and prestige, but rather by loyalty to a god who has chosen to redeem a group of slaves from a life of bondage. The commandments mean to sketch out a space where human beings can live fruitful, productive, and meaningful lives before God and with one another.[1]

Yes, the Ten Commandments are rules—but not just rules for avoiding divine judgment and punishment. They are rules designed to shape how an entire people—the Israelites—are to live and move and have their being now that they are no longer slaves. The Israelites had known rules before—remember the rule introduced by Pharaoh that, because Moses was trying to free them, the Hebrew people would have to produce the same number of bricks everyday but they would have to find their own straw to do it? That was a rule. But it wasn’t a standard of behavior meant to strengthen or build up a relationship. Rather, it was a rule intended to cause division and suffering among the Israelites while increasing Pharaoh’s profit margins. It was a rule made by a corrupt leader to further oppress vulnerable people.

That is not what the Ten Commandments are. The Ten Commandments about how to build covenantal relationships with God and neighbor, the Ten Commandments are about how the Children of God are going to be the Children of God together. Let’s return to the good professor Erickson for more.

Within the frame of the [Ten Commandments] text, which begins “I am Yahweh your god” and ends with “your neighbor,” it is revealed that life according to the commandments is fundamentally about radical commitment to God and compassion for the neighbor. The Commandments are intended to form the character of this community by cultivating a deep and enduring love for and loyalty to God, which then extends out to all creation.[2]

Pharaoh’s rules were about Pharaoh—protecting Pharaoh, enriching Pharaoh, making Pharaoh more powerful, giving Pharaoh more control.

God’s commandments are about protecting the people and enriching the people, empowering the people to live in relationship with God, encouraging the people to control themselves for their own sake and for the sake of their neighbors. For the first time in their lives, the Israelites are tasting freedom and, quite honestly, it’s an unfamiliar flavor. They don’t seem too sure about it, kind of like when I recently tried Better Made’s garlic dill pickle flavored potato chips. After the first taste I thought I liked them but I wasn’t sure. It took a few more chips for me to be sure. And now I know that I do like them . . . unfortunately because I did not need one more junk food to like in my life. But the Israelites are still in that “we’re not sure” place. The new tastes in the wilderness are sweet but hard to identify and so even as they continue on their journey towards a new-to-them land, the after taste of the flesh pots of Egypt remain on their tongues. They have lost what they knew and do not yet know what is to become known. And so, as is common among us human being types, in a time of unknowing and transition, we begin to romanticize the past, growing nostalgic about the good old days that honestly, for most folks, weren’t really all that good and look much better in the rearview mirror than they ever did through the windshield.

The Israelites need these commandments so they can figure out how this is going to all work going forward. After years of having Pharaoh at the helm, God’s first commandment—“I am the Lord your God, you shall have no other gods before me” is the key to the others. The only way this is going to work is if they fully transition from Pharaoh as master to God as, well, god. They must cleanse their pallets of the aftertaste of the flesh pots of Egypt so they can fully taste and appreciate the sweet goodness of their daily manna from God.

They must have no other Gods before God—not Pharaoh, not money, not “but we’ve always done it this way”, not personal freedom, not the state, not social or political affiliations . . . God and only God.

And they mustn’t make any images or idols of God. The One, Lord God Almighty, the great I Am Who I Am, can’t be limited to a statue or a carving or any other image. God is toooooo big for that and it is not for humanity to determine the limits, boundaries, or intentions of God. Therefore, no graven images. They are too limiting and misleading. God is mystery, a mystery to be respected and adored.

And so also, no misusing the Lord’s name. No using the name of God to promote one’s own agenda or interests and certainly no using the name of the great I Am as any curse or expletive because come on!

And then we move into sabbath—it is to be observed and celebrated. It is a gift from God and surely a selfless gift is something the Israelites never got from Pharaoh. Sabbath is a day on which they aren’t only to rest but they are to actively resist the materialism, rampant consumption, industry, and work of the world. To take an entire day away from work is a bold declaration of one’s faith in God, not self or market or government, for survival. As Uncle Walter, I’m sorry that’s just my affectionate term for him because you know I love him, as Dr. Walter Brueggemann who, according to Wikipedia, is “widely considered one of the most influential Old Testament scholars of the last several decades” wrote in his book Sabbath as Resistance, “The Sabbath rest of God is the acknowledgment that God and God’s people in the world are not commodities to be dispatched for endless production and so dispatched, as we used to say, as ‘hands’ in the service of a command economy. Rather they are subjects situated in an economy of neighborliness.”

And from the fourth commandment we move to the fifth about honoring our mothers and our fathers—caring for those who cared for us because that is what happens in an economy of neighborliness, in a just and decent society—we take care of the ones who took care of us, we take care of the ones who cannot care for themselves.

And that fifth commandment transitions us into the others, the shall nots, that offer up advice that may seem obvious to us but maybe wasn’t so much to the Hebrews as they’re just starting out learning what it is to be Children of God. Do not murder—murder is a violation of God’s intention of life for another. It is not up to us to steal the gift of life that God intends for one of our neighbors. And then of course don’t steal, life or anything else, it’s a violation of trust and decency. Don’t commit adultery because when the two become as one, to betray your spouse is also to betray the great I Am and both are deeply injured by the assault on the relationship.

And the final commandment about not coveting . . . Jealousy leads to resentment and resentment leads to seeing our neighbor as a threat or as competition and not as neighbor. And we know that Jesus is going to sum all of these ten up in the greatest commandment—love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind and love your neighbor as you love yourself. It’s really hard to authentically love someone when you’re busy coveting their spouse or their house or their bigger boat or their success or their kids’ success or their, well, their donkey.

The lives of the Israelites have changed dramatically at this point in our Exodus story. The Ten Commandments help them to re-orient in the midst of tremendous unknowing and loss of their status quo. We are going through a similar time of loss. Of that loss, Professor Erickson of Iliff School of Theology writes, What if we viewed that loss — that displacement from the center — as redemption or as liberation? Perhaps it is an opportunity to embrace the basic contours of the covenant that whittles us down to our essentials — to be a community that places loyalty to God and care for the other at the center of our lives. In the wilderness, maybe we can hear the voice of God more clearly — calling us to live into this covenant.

And just as surely as the Israelites were called to live into this covenant, so, too, are we. And so I wonder . . . What does a radical commitment to God and neighbor look like right here and right now? What does it look like for us as a church family? What does it look like for us as citizens of a country going through a difficult time? What does a radical commitment to God and neighbor look like for you in your daily schedule, at your work, in your marriage, in your interactions with family, in your bank statement, in your prayers? Every day, in every way, a radical commitment to God and neighbor . . . dear Lord, may it be so.

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[1] https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1068

[2] https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1068[2]