Whether I like it or not, I’m in the wedding business. I’ve lost track of how many nuptials I’ve blessed along the way, but I can tell you this with a great deal of certainty: Weddings—like other major life transitions—cause significant stress. The details of pulling off a major event, the beginning of a new chapter in life, the desire for things to be social media perfect. Add in to this mix other potent ingredients, perhaps parents who have divorced and may not be on the best of terms, or a sibling rivalry that rears its ugly head.
Today we reach the end of Moses’ life, but what an end it is! Here’s Moses at the top of Mt. Nebo with a grand view of the entire Promised Land, and God telling him that this was indeed the land promised to Abraham and his descendants. Moses looks on Gilead and Dan and Judah as far as the sea. He could see the Negeb and the Plain out to Zoar. He sees all of it stretched out before him, and for all the people of Israel.
I must admit I knew nothing of the musical “Les Miserables” until I married Melissa—a francophone. Oh, sure, I had seen the posters for it back in the 80s with the young child superimposed on the French flag on them, but that’s it. Melissa and I were in my hometown of Detroit one year for Christmas when “Les Mis” happened to be in town, and so we made plans with some of my family members to see it on New Year’s Eve.
As I write this I am waiting for the power to come back on at the rectory and the main church building. In a flurry of rain and wind over the course of fifteen minutes, the power shut off. That was 20 hours ago, and National Grid’s website assures us that we’ll have the power restored in 33 hours give or take.
This morning we heard about God giving Moses the 10 commandments at Mt. Sinai. They detail how wee are to live our lives with both God and our neighbor—leading Jesus himself to say the entirety of the law could be distilled to those two things: love God and love your neighbor. Yet of those 10 we read today, there is only one of the ten commandments that people will readily break without batting an eye. It’s the one in the middle: Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy.
“Is the Lord among us or not?”
That is the central question asked by the Israelites there in Rephidim as they are camped out in the desert. They had traveled from the wilderness of Sin in stages to this place, as the Lord had commanded them. But now after putting down their belongings, they discover there’s no water to be found anywhere. It’s been a long day, and they are dying of thirst, so they begin to quarrel with Moses.
It’s been about five weeks since the children of Israel fled their captors in Egypt. Five weeks for the food to run out and to miss their modest dwellings. Five weeks of squinting into the harsh sun with no real shade in sight. Five weeks of yearning for their gardens and the fresh tomatoes and peppers and cilantro they used to cook with. It’s been five weeks, and they’re hungry and getting angry.
We heard the most iconic story from Exodus this morning: the crossing of the Red Sea. In the lead up to that event, you may need a bit of a reminder. After ten plagues culminating with the angel of death passing through the land, Pharaoh relents and lets the Israelites leave Egypt. The Almighty guides the fleeing Israelites into the wilderness toward the Red Sea even though that way is less direct. Pharaoh, realizing his cheap labor is gone and seeing them head towards the sea, gives chase.
We live lives in submission to the clock.
While not all of us wear timepieces on our wrists anymore due to the devices in our pockets synced with the atomic clocks presumably at Apple HQ, it doesn’t mean we aren’t slaves to time. We make appointments in 15 minute increments. Some among us work in terms of billable hours. We have multiple calendars to sync together from family commitments to work engagements to sporting events. We hustle from place to place—or Zoom call to Zoom call—trying to get things done.
It’s hard to tell from our text in Genesis this morning, but we’ve arrived in the middle of a story. Abraham’s chief steward has made the 400 mile journey back to Haran, Abraham’s hometown, and is in the midst of explaining the purpose of his journey to Rebekah’s family.