A Sermon By John Brierly McCall, D. Min.
Exodus 3:1-15
Have you ever seen a burning bush? I s’pose you could make a bush burn with a match, or with a magnifying glass on a sunny day, the way we did as kids. Of course, the point here isn’t just that the bush was burning. It was burning but not consumed – the bush was OK. More importantly, the burning bush was a sign for Moses to stop and pay attention. There he encountered YHWH; in English “Jehovah,” which comes from the Hebrew meaning “I AM!”
Tradition says Moses was deep in the wilderness of the southern tip of the Sinai Peninsula. And many centuries ago monks built a monastery there dedicated to St. Catherine. In February of 2000, several of us here from our church made a pilgrimage to Israel and then some of us went to Egypt. We stayed at the Monastery of St. Catherine, right next Mount Sinai and right there at the edge of the Monastery is a large, old bush with burnt-red leaves. Tradition says this is THE burning bush. It looks remarkably healthy for a 4500 year old bush.
Have you ever encountered a burning bush… or something like it? Have you ever had the clear sense you were on holy ground? I’ve had the privilege of standing at Stonehenge in England, and at Cairn Holy in Scotland, both from about 2,500 BCE and probably as old as Moses and the burning bush. I remember falling silent with a sense of awe and wonder.
A burning bush can be anything that signals God is present and active and calling to us to pay attention. A burning bush can be some event, some powerful experience, that sends shivers up and down your spine and may forever divide life in two.
Let’s take a look at a few important elements in this story and then build the bridge to our world and our lives…
Moses was a lost soul. He’d never been at home anywhere. He was born of Hebrew parents and raised in the Egyptian royal house. He fled for his life after killing an Egyptian guard and wandered in the wilderness until he found refuge with Midianites, a nomadic tribe of shepherds.
Even so, long before GPS and Google Maps, God found him and stopped him in his tracks. Through the burning bush that was not consumed, God told Moses that he was the one God had chosen to lead the people from slavery to wilderness to Promised Land.
Moses tried every ploy to escape: four separate objections, each of which God rebutted, then finally said “O my Lord, please send someone else!” (4:13) God didn’t give up, but rather assured Moses that the Holy One would accompany him. And really, who better than Moses to lead this epic exodus? After all, wasn’t he driven by a deep sense of righteous anger when he watched the cruelty of the Egyptians to his own people and tribe? And didn’t he carry both the story and soul of an Israelite and the life-experience of an Egyptian?
God called Moses and God intended to send Moses and Moses went. God’s call, though first resisted, moved Moses from the wilderness back to center stage where he became the shepherd of the people.
Did God have had a Plan B? I have no idea. I only know that Moses went; and that the first step was the hardest, by far; and that God walked with Moses and delivered him the commandments on which the whole tradition stands to this day.
When we face anxious times and tough challenges many of us feel that nagging voice saying “I can’t do this! I can’t do this.” And God replies: “yes you can; yes you can. I formed you and named you and called you and now I’m sending you. You’re not alone.”
So Moses, the nomadic shepherd whom God tracked down in a far-away desert, returned to the cries of his own tribe and people. And by patiently calling on the empowering God called “I AM WHO I AM” Moses persuaded the people to leave the slavery and oppression and head out into the unknown, terrifying wilderness. Many times they would look back and say “Moses – did God bring us out of slavery to die in this wilderness? It was bad… but at least in Egypt we knew where our next meal would come from…”
When you’re in slavery, the wilderness looks really good. But when you reach wilderness you might long to return to the security of the known and familiar. That’s when we often get stuck.
This past summer has been marred with several tragic deaths of Mainers because of domestic violence. It happens all the time, every day. It happens behind closed doors and in families and homes where we might least expect it. Domestic violence is a quiet epidemic that often boils just below the surface and then erupts. Its greatest allies are fear and silence.
The Maine Coalition to End Domestic Violence is setting aside this Wednesday, August 31, as a day together to name this abuse, encouraging any and all of us to reach out to those we know or suspect are living in such silent fear.
Those of us who are safe allies can make a critical difference. Because leaving means losing so much, staying often seems the better choice From the outside we might not be able to imagine why anyone would stay. But we know the most dangerous moment in an abusive relationship is when the victim – in most cases a woman – makes the decision to leave. That can be a burning-bush moment – stay or go, knowing that either has great risks.
When you’re in slavery the wilderness looks promising – a place to escape from the burden and fear. It’s also true that leaving slavery means entering a wilderness time that can be terrifying in many ways.
If you, or someone you know, is stuck in such a place, there’s help available. There are agencies in our community that will help you if you must leave. Kathy Sahrbeck, Elsa Peters and I are here to help you connect with resources and support. You don’t have to stay stuck.
Maybe Moses’ story can help all of us as we remember he never desired fame or power. He never wanted to be God’s prophet. But God found him, called him, equipped him and sent him. You may hear this story and feel some envy that the burning bush and the holy voice made the situation so clear.
If you’re feeling that God has never called you or equipped you for anything, it may be you’re living in such a way that the still, small voice of the Holy One is lost in all the commotion.
It’s certainly true for me: I may feel the presence of God in the earthquake (or hurricane). I may sense that spirit in corporate worship in this sanctuary or a great cathedral. But I can’t converse with God, wrestle with God, when I’m in the midst of a crowd or surrounded by chaos. I need stillness. You may, too.
Years ago I first read a little book called Wishful Thinking – A Theological ABC, by Frederick Buechner. There he offered his definition of “vocation”:
“The kind of work God usually calls you to is the kind of work: (a) that you most need to do and (b) that the world most needs to have done… the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” [pg. 95].
The late and much-respected Peter Gomes once remarked, “this doesn’t say ‘{the place where} your great skill and the world’s deep hunger meet,’ but your deep gladness, your joy…”
So it was for Moses, for Isaiah, for Jeremiah, for Jesus, Sister Theresa, and for us. Not a desire for fame or fortune or power, but an abiding desire to have this one life matter deeply, and to leave an impression on the small circle of those whose lives they touched.
So maybe God is calling you, or is waiting for you to answer a previous invitation, and you haven’t tuned in. Figuring out why you’re here and what you can do with “your one wild and precious life” is truly a profound experience.
God is calling… what will you answer?