Epiphany 6, Year A
February 13, 2011
Deuteronomy 30:15-20
The other day my son was frustrated about something and hauled out and hit my daughter. This was not a first offense, and so all of us know the well-established consequence for this kind of action. I grabbed Dylan’s hand and told him he was heading to Time Out. As usual, he resisted physically, but this time he also said, “I’m in charge of me and I say no time out!” As I carried him to time out, I told him that in a way he is right – he is in charge of the choices that he makes. But once he makes his choices, he has to deal with the consequences. And the consequence of hitting your sister is a time out.
To me, as a parent, it seems so simple – so black and white. Good behavior is rewarded, bad behavior is punished. The choice between the two seems so obvious that sometimes it bewilders me that he makes the choices he makes. Who was it that defined insanity as doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results?
But then I remind myself that Dylan is still in the process of linking actions and consequences. And he’s still in the process of figuring out how to control his body and his emotions, how to think ahead, how to make good decisions in both big and small things.
And from our Old Testament reading for this morning from Deuteronomy, it seems like maybe that’s where all of us find ourselves, at least part of the time.
The entire book of Deuteronomy is sort of Moses’ Last Will and Testament – his farewell address. He is standing on the Plains of Moab imparting his final words of wisdom to the Israelites. It is the eve of their settlement in the Promised Land and with just a couple exceptions for good behavior, almost everyone that made the long journey with him from Egypt has died. They are almost close enough to touch the Promised Land. And Moses pauses to look back, to retell their shared history of slavery, battles, wins and losses. He is a witness to the vast multitude of ways God has continued to be faithful to them along their long trek -- often despite their own unfaithfulness to God and each other.
Moses is speaking to a generation who didn’t witness the events at Mt. Sinai where Moses, long beard streaming a la Charlton Heston, met God and received the 10 Commandments. And so Moses reminds them (often in excruciating detail) of the code of behavior God has given them. Deuteronomy actually means “second law.” This is a second presentation of the law to a new audience. Underlying his oratory, though, is the beautiful story of the covenant the people’s forefathers and mothers made with God. The covenant that God would be their God and they would be God’s people. They would worship and love only one God, and they would act in justice and love towards each other and towards those on the periphery. This covenant bound God and the people in a unique relationship and was the backbone of the community and the underlying purpose for all of the seemingly mundane rules.
And then the entire book of Deuteronomy culminates in our passage this morning where Moses is exhorting, encouraging -- begging! -- the Israelites to continue in this covenant relationship with God – to ratify it for themselves. The new generation isn’t obliged in some distant way by their parents’ old covenant. They are invited to be partners themselves with God. This is the climax of the whole book – it’s covenantal decision time for the people of Israel!
And I find, at least, that it’s impossible to read or hear this story and just sit and observe. Moses’ account of the history of God and God’s people, the history of faithfulness by God and frequent unfaithfulness by the people, the history of the commandments and codes, this account isn’t a just an invitation to a strange and foreign group of people, long dead. This is an invitation to us to become the newest generation of the People of God. There’s no response given in the book of Deuteronomy and I’m certain that’s an intentional literary device meant to help us feel included; we too are being called to commit to the covenant.
And so Moses lays before the people standing with him on the Plains of Moab, and the people gathered here at St. Aidan’s this morning, this choice: Life and prosperity, or death and adversity.
Well, that seems like a pretty black and white choice, doesn’t it? Death or life? Prosperity or adversity? One is obviously the right answer and one is obviously the wrong answer. Just like it seems like it should be so obvious with my son, Don’t hit your sister. I’ll take Life and Prosperity, please, and then I’ll go about my day.
But it isn’t that easy, is it? Every once in a great while we might be faced with a decision with such obvious moral clarity that causes everything else to fall neatly into place, but not terribly often, I’d wager. Usually life is much more complicated. Right and wrong is not always so clear and sometimes it’s the little decisions (or sometimes, things you do or don’t do that you don’t even realize are decisions) that end up causing the most trouble. And a lot of the time, even when you have made a great decision initially – something like marrying your spouse or having a child or getting baptized or supporting someone in a crisis – it’s the continual every day tiny little decisions that are really reaffirmations of that first decision that end up mattering even more. Before you know it, you are choosing death and adversity, and that was certainly not your intention.
That’s what kept happening for the folks in the Old Testament. They’d get all excited about God and agree to be God’s people one day and then a few months would pass and the next thing they know they’re busy with their sheep or their temple-building and they aren’t thinking about God so much. They’re spending so much time worrying about their concubines or how much olives will sell for at market that they don’t have time to worry about all those commandments. And before long they find themselves prostrate on the ground in front of a golden calf and drunk on sacrificial wine and they aren’t entirely sure how they got there.
We’ve all been there. Whether it’s hitting your sister or letting distance grow in your marriage or not spending enough time with your child or not living up to your baptismal vows or losing touch with a friend who needs you. There are so many ways to forsake that Choice between Life and Death. There are so many ways to give ourselves to what doesn’t matter.
Thankfully, Moses is no fool. He’s been with the People of God long enough to know that even if they were to make the right decision in that moment, they’d stray from the path soon enough. And so the words he uses don’t ask for a one-time decision from the people standing on the Plains of Moab, or from us. Instead, Moses talks about “pathways” - our choice is made over the course of our entire life. Moses didn’t get an immediate response from the people because their response occurs over their lifetimes. Choosing Life is a lifelong process. And as Moses knew then, and we know now, sometimes one only learns how to choose life in the midst of struggle and death. Moses knew that there would be times when the people would turn away from God. In the very next chapter after our reading from this morning Moses says (from the translation called The Message): “I know that after I die you’re going to make a mess of things.” He’d seen it happen enough to realize the inevitability. (And so have we, haven’t we?) But Moses also knew that God would still be faithful when they returned. He’d seen that happen enough to realize its inevitability, too. The offer remained open – the choice of life always remains an option, despite our betrayals, big and little, and no matter how dire things seem.
And so, Moses begs us, Live! Again from The Message translation: Walk in God’s ways “so that you will live, really live, live exuberantly…!” God doesn’t want to constrict us so that we are only dutifully and fearfully obeying laws. God wants to free us to love wholeheartedly, to live with a passion for justice and mercy. God wants us to yearn for relationship with God and each other in every part of our lives.
So how do we choose life? In preparing for my adult ed this morning about Jesus’ parable of the Pearl of Great Price, I found what seemed to me at least to be the perfect instructions. Frederick Buechner’s The Magnificent Defeat describes how to be a saint, which I think maybe is the same thing:
To be a saint is to be human because we were created to be human. To be a saint is to live with courage and self-restraint…. To be a saint is to live not with the hands clenched to grasp, to strike, to hold tight to a life that is always slipping away the more tightly we hold it; but it is to live with the hands stretched out both to give and to receive with gladness. To be a saint is to work and weep for the broken and suffering of the world, but it is also to be strangely light of heart in the knowledge that there is something greater than the world that mends and renews. Maybe more than anything else, to be a saint is to know joy. Not happiness that comes and goes with the moments that occasion it, but joy that is always there like an underground spring no matter how dark and terrible the night. To be a saint is to be a little out of one’s mind, which is a very good thing to be a little out of from time to time. It is to live a life that is always giving itself away and yet is always full.
“See,” Moses says to us, “I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity…. Choose life!
February 13, 2011
Deuteronomy 30:15-20
The other day my son was frustrated about something and hauled out and hit my daughter. This was not a first offense, and so all of us know the well-established consequence for this kind of action. I grabbed Dylan’s hand and told him he was heading to Time Out. As usual, he resisted physically, but this time he also said, “I’m in charge of me and I say no time out!” As I carried him to time out, I told him that in a way he is right – he is in charge of the choices that he makes. But once he makes his choices, he has to deal with the consequences. And the consequence of hitting your sister is a time out.
To me, as a parent, it seems so simple – so black and white. Good behavior is rewarded, bad behavior is punished. The choice between the two seems so obvious that sometimes it bewilders me that he makes the choices he makes. Who was it that defined insanity as doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results?
But then I remind myself that Dylan is still in the process of linking actions and consequences. And he’s still in the process of figuring out how to control his body and his emotions, how to think ahead, how to make good decisions in both big and small things.
And from our Old Testament reading for this morning from Deuteronomy, it seems like maybe that’s where all of us find ourselves, at least part of the time.
The entire book of Deuteronomy is sort of Moses’ Last Will and Testament – his farewell address. He is standing on the Plains of Moab imparting his final words of wisdom to the Israelites. It is the eve of their settlement in the Promised Land and with just a couple exceptions for good behavior, almost everyone that made the long journey with him from Egypt has died. They are almost close enough to touch the Promised Land. And Moses pauses to look back, to retell their shared history of slavery, battles, wins and losses. He is a witness to the vast multitude of ways God has continued to be faithful to them along their long trek -- often despite their own unfaithfulness to God and each other.
Moses is speaking to a generation who didn’t witness the events at Mt. Sinai where Moses, long beard streaming a la Charlton Heston, met God and received the 10 Commandments. And so Moses reminds them (often in excruciating detail) of the code of behavior God has given them. Deuteronomy actually means “second law.” This is a second presentation of the law to a new audience. Underlying his oratory, though, is the beautiful story of the covenant the people’s forefathers and mothers made with God. The covenant that God would be their God and they would be God’s people. They would worship and love only one God, and they would act in justice and love towards each other and towards those on the periphery. This covenant bound God and the people in a unique relationship and was the backbone of the community and the underlying purpose for all of the seemingly mundane rules.
And then the entire book of Deuteronomy culminates in our passage this morning where Moses is exhorting, encouraging -- begging! -- the Israelites to continue in this covenant relationship with God – to ratify it for themselves. The new generation isn’t obliged in some distant way by their parents’ old covenant. They are invited to be partners themselves with God. This is the climax of the whole book – it’s covenantal decision time for the people of Israel!
And I find, at least, that it’s impossible to read or hear this story and just sit and observe. Moses’ account of the history of God and God’s people, the history of faithfulness by God and frequent unfaithfulness by the people, the history of the commandments and codes, this account isn’t a just an invitation to a strange and foreign group of people, long dead. This is an invitation to us to become the newest generation of the People of God. There’s no response given in the book of Deuteronomy and I’m certain that’s an intentional literary device meant to help us feel included; we too are being called to commit to the covenant.
And so Moses lays before the people standing with him on the Plains of Moab, and the people gathered here at St. Aidan’s this morning, this choice: Life and prosperity, or death and adversity.
Well, that seems like a pretty black and white choice, doesn’t it? Death or life? Prosperity or adversity? One is obviously the right answer and one is obviously the wrong answer. Just like it seems like it should be so obvious with my son, Don’t hit your sister. I’ll take Life and Prosperity, please, and then I’ll go about my day.
But it isn’t that easy, is it? Every once in a great while we might be faced with a decision with such obvious moral clarity that causes everything else to fall neatly into place, but not terribly often, I’d wager. Usually life is much more complicated. Right and wrong is not always so clear and sometimes it’s the little decisions (or sometimes, things you do or don’t do that you don’t even realize are decisions) that end up causing the most trouble. And a lot of the time, even when you have made a great decision initially – something like marrying your spouse or having a child or getting baptized or supporting someone in a crisis – it’s the continual every day tiny little decisions that are really reaffirmations of that first decision that end up mattering even more. Before you know it, you are choosing death and adversity, and that was certainly not your intention.
That’s what kept happening for the folks in the Old Testament. They’d get all excited about God and agree to be God’s people one day and then a few months would pass and the next thing they know they’re busy with their sheep or their temple-building and they aren’t thinking about God so much. They’re spending so much time worrying about their concubines or how much olives will sell for at market that they don’t have time to worry about all those commandments. And before long they find themselves prostrate on the ground in front of a golden calf and drunk on sacrificial wine and they aren’t entirely sure how they got there.
We’ve all been there. Whether it’s hitting your sister or letting distance grow in your marriage or not spending enough time with your child or not living up to your baptismal vows or losing touch with a friend who needs you. There are so many ways to forsake that Choice between Life and Death. There are so many ways to give ourselves to what doesn’t matter.
Thankfully, Moses is no fool. He’s been with the People of God long enough to know that even if they were to make the right decision in that moment, they’d stray from the path soon enough. And so the words he uses don’t ask for a one-time decision from the people standing on the Plains of Moab, or from us. Instead, Moses talks about “pathways” - our choice is made over the course of our entire life. Moses didn’t get an immediate response from the people because their response occurs over their lifetimes. Choosing Life is a lifelong process. And as Moses knew then, and we know now, sometimes one only learns how to choose life in the midst of struggle and death. Moses knew that there would be times when the people would turn away from God. In the very next chapter after our reading from this morning Moses says (from the translation called The Message): “I know that after I die you’re going to make a mess of things.” He’d seen it happen enough to realize the inevitability. (And so have we, haven’t we?) But Moses also knew that God would still be faithful when they returned. He’d seen that happen enough to realize its inevitability, too. The offer remained open – the choice of life always remains an option, despite our betrayals, big and little, and no matter how dire things seem.
And so, Moses begs us, Live! Again from The Message translation: Walk in God’s ways “so that you will live, really live, live exuberantly…!” God doesn’t want to constrict us so that we are only dutifully and fearfully obeying laws. God wants to free us to love wholeheartedly, to live with a passion for justice and mercy. God wants us to yearn for relationship with God and each other in every part of our lives.
So how do we choose life? In preparing for my adult ed this morning about Jesus’ parable of the Pearl of Great Price, I found what seemed to me at least to be the perfect instructions. Frederick Buechner’s The Magnificent Defeat describes how to be a saint, which I think maybe is the same thing:
To be a saint is to be human because we were created to be human. To be a saint is to live with courage and self-restraint…. To be a saint is to live not with the hands clenched to grasp, to strike, to hold tight to a life that is always slipping away the more tightly we hold it; but it is to live with the hands stretched out both to give and to receive with gladness. To be a saint is to work and weep for the broken and suffering of the world, but it is also to be strangely light of heart in the knowledge that there is something greater than the world that mends and renews. Maybe more than anything else, to be a saint is to know joy. Not happiness that comes and goes with the moments that occasion it, but joy that is always there like an underground spring no matter how dark and terrible the night. To be a saint is to be a little out of one’s mind, which is a very good thing to be a little out of from time to time. It is to live a life that is always giving itself away and yet is always full.
“See,” Moses says to us, “I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity…. Choose life!
Wow Elizabeth. Very thoughtful and thought provoking. I love that you are willing to share your own humanity with us. It makes the whole concept of faith so much more real. Thanks for posting.
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