October 12--The God Who Remains

Exodus 32:1-14; Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23

(Additional texts for this week: Philippians 4:1-9; Matthew 22:1-14)







“We have sinned just as our ancestors did. We have done wrong; we have done evil.” –Psalm 106:6


“These are scary times,” I said to Kristen earlier this week as we prepared for the waitressing gig we had both picked up for the night. I was thinking of the economic bailout debate and the upcoming job loss report and my evaporating retirement plan and the uncertainty of a long-term job search. “These are scary times,” Kristen agreed, thinking of her three kids and her pending divorce and the increasing scarcity of work just at the time when food costs and gas costs and the New England winter’s energy costs are on the rise. “These are scary times,” we hear from every economist on every newscast from television to radio to newspaper to blog. “We’ve never been here before,” these economists say. “We just have no idea how things will turn out.”


“These are scary times,” I can’t help imagine the ancient Israelites of our Exodus text saying to one another as they linger in the desert morning after morning, waiting for Moses to come back down off that mountain. “We’ve never been here before,” I imagine them saying as they go to bed at night with no plan in sight. “We just have no idea how things will turn out,” I imagine them whispering to one another as anxiety builds and panic spreads. “Make us gods who will lead us,” I can hear them beg of Aaron, the only leader they have left. “Moses led us out of Egypt, but we don’t know what has happened to him.” Give us something we can see and touch. Give us something we can trust.


I can’t help relating to their need for a tangible image of the god they claim to serve. I can’t help but see ourselves in them as they continue to cling for stability to the very thing that can never be stable--a god of gold.


“Take off the gold earrings that your wives, sons, and daughters are wearing,” Aaron responds to the Israelites, “and bring them to me.” And Aaron takes all their gold and molds it into a statue of a calf. Then he announces a feast in honor of God.

But God is not honored.

“They have made for themselves a calf covered with gold, and they have worshiped it and offered sacrifices to it,” God thunders at Moses, still up on the mountain. “I am so angry with them that I am going to destroy them. Then I will make you and your descendants a great nation.”


Gulp.


“Hold on a minute, God,” I want to say in defense of the Israelites, in defense of myself, in defense of every one of us who begs for some visible sign of security and stability. “How long do you expect us to languish in this leadership vacuum with no clear path forward and forecasts of gloom and doom everywhere we turn? We just wanted to see you. Aaron’s the one who made us worship the god of gold. Wall Street did it; not me!”


And it’s true, of course. Aaron did decide to mold the gold into a calf. Corporate lenders did decide to entice borrowers to make mortgages they could never afford. Government regulators did fall down on the job. Partisan bickering did contribute to the crisis, rather than solve it. Why should people like Kristen and me and the average Joe on the street bear the brunt of God’s anger, bear the burden of the bailout, bear any responsibility for where we are now and how we move forward?


But of course . . . if we’re really honest . . . if we’re really, really honest . . . most of us did dance—at least just a little bit—in that party for the golden calf we’ve been having for a while. Most of us, if we’re really honest, at some point have asked for that visible image--for that god of gold--to keep us safe, to keep us secure, to give us a reason to party when we're scared. Most of us, if we’re really honest, want our leaders to make it easy for us, so we don’t have to do the difficult spiritual work of trusting in a God we can’t see and a future we can’t know. Most of us, if we're really honest, deserve at least just a little bit of divine anger in response to our sin. We're in this one together, and it hurts all the way through.


And so it helps to see God negotiate with Moses, who is pleading our case forthrightly, who is appealing to God’s reasonableness, to God’s reputation, to God’s promise already given. And it helps to see that God can “repent” of anger, that God can “turn away” from the evil consequences of our actions, that God can give us the opportunity to do the same. For this is exactly what God chooses to do in this Exodus text. God will not abondon us to the consequences of our actions. The evil we have done is not the final answer.


It is not an easy reconciliation. It is not an immediate fix. Moses returns to the people and imposes a day of reckoning. The relationship between the people and God remains tenuous. But it remains!


And that, in the end, is the one thing we can depend on. Whether we have worshiped the god of gold or whether we got dragged to the party without participating in it. Whether we begged Aaron to make us a god we could see or whether we helped to fashion it ourselves. God is still with us, repenting of anger, turning us away from the evil we create. We can have another chance. We can make a new way together.

“Let anyone who wants to follow the LORD come to me,” Moses says to the people upon his return. Let anyone who wants to follow God join together, we can say to one another now that the truth of our economic crisis is upon us. It is time to repent. It is time to turn around. We can make a new way, with our God as our guide. May this be our commitment in the days and weeks to come. May we seek out those who will help live anew. In the midst of a crisis comes a new opportunity. We can begin again. May it be so. Amen.



Gusti Linnea Newquist

October 5--No Other Gods

Lectionary focus for this week:

Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20

(Additional texts: Psalm 19, Philippians 3:4b-14, Matthew 21:33-46)

“I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; you shall have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:2).


Let’s get real. We just can’t seem to get it right, can we?

The very first of the Ten Commandments, the very first of the many commandments throughout the Book of Exodus, the very first commitment of any believer in the biblical tradition: put absolutely nothing in a higher place than God.

We just can’t seem to get it right, can we?

Of course, for the ancient Israelites not getting it right meant worshipping other tribal gods in the midst of a polytheist culture. But it also meant ignoring the widow and the orphan. It meant cheating in the marketplace and seeking wealth for some but not for all. It meant forgetting their desperate origins and the god who had led them out of slavery and into freedom. It meant replacing that god with all that glittered and thrilled but that could not ever finally save them.

Not so terribly different than we are, are they? Here we are so many thousands of years later, still worshipping the stock market or a political party or job security or physical beauty. Still holding on to anything that we can shore up to make our lives stable and to keep uncertainty at bay. Still doing all of this at the expense of the most vulnerable, the most uncertain, the most unstable. Still doing all of this at the expense of God.

The past several weeks have been nothing if not a stark condemnation of our national failing of the first commandment, regardless of our religious tradition or lack thereof. Even those of us who call ourselves “progressive” Christians, even those of us who have advocated all along for economic justice, even those of us who condemn “socialism for the rich and capitalism for the poor” . . . we still, if we are honest, worship the god of security and control. We, too, want stability and prosperity we can depend on, even if we would be sure to declare such security as the equal opportunity for all. We still want our retirement plans and our health care and our out-of-season fruits and vegetables from the local grocer. What would happen if we really—and I mean really –put absolutely nothing higher than God?


This may sound overly pedantic, but this economic crisis we find ourselves in—and my personal reaction to it (panic)—has actually led me to reflect linguistically on the very name of God used by the ancient Israelites as it is recorded in the First Commandment. This God we are to place before all other gods is named with four Hebrew letters: YHWH.

YHWH is translated as LORD in most modern texts, but in its Hebrew form, YHWH is the unpronounceable, the mysterious, the holy. Because these letters are related to the Hebrew verb “to be,” modern theologians have declared YHWH as the “ground of our being” or as “the God who is.” In this interpretation, the God we are to worship before all other gods is ultimately indefinable--a dynamic mystery who will be whatever it will be, regardless of our human inability to make sense of it.


This is not good news in the midst of an economic crisis! The God we are to put before all other gods, the God to whom we make our highest commitment, the God whom we are to love with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength is an indefinable, dynamic mystery that we are not allowed to make any sense of? No wonder we just can’t seem to get it right!

At least the stock market has a number I can watch go up and down, at least a political party has a platform I can read and debate, at least the job has a paycheck I can deposit, at least the drugstore has cosmetics I can lather all over my face. These things make sense. They make me feel secure. A mysterious God with an unpronounceable name who refuses to be defined? Well, we’ve got more than enough uncertainty in our lives already, thank you very much. Why make it our highest priority!


But herein lies the paradox, at least in my view. It is this indefinable, dynamic, eternal existence that will in fact last forever. It is, in the end, the only thing that will last forever.

It is our financial markets and political parties and jobs and bodies that ultimately will fade, no matter how hard we try to fix them.

When we can put that truth before all others, when we can put that God before all others, when we can recognize that our security is fleeting and our control is ephemeral, only then can the ethics of our relationships with one another and ourselves—including our efforts at economic justice—fall faithfully into place.

And that is what the Ten Commandments are all about. Trusting only in this indefinable, dynamic, eternal existence so that we can stop manipulating the sky and the water and the earth into our own image and instead exercise faithful stewardship as caretakers of God’s abundance (Ex 20:4, modern interpretation). Trusting in this indefinable, dynamic and eternal existence so that we can practice a life-giving balance of work and rest, rather than panicking over what remains to be done or slipping into the sloth of believing our labor doesn’t matter (Ex 20:8-11). Trusting in this indefinable, dynamic and eternal existence so that we can honor the gift of human companions and seek their good, rather than treat them with contempt (Ex 20:12-17). Trusting in this indefinable, dynamic and eternal existence so that we can repent of ever misusing its name and pray for the grace to continue in trust (Ex 20:7).


It is so very hard to trust, so very hard to accept that the uncertainty we fear is, in fact, the divine stability. That the mystery we avoid is, in fact, divine truth. That the existence we worship is intangible, but the present reality is fleeting.

It is, however, the deepest spiritual truth . . . and one that we can also find comforting in these difficult times. This crisis, too, will not last forever. This moment, too, is not eternal. God is dynamic and indefinable, not confined to our fears, not pinned down by our panic. God can make all things new, and God is doing so in this very moment. God is still with us, being who God is, leading us from slavery to freedom, challenging us to live faithfully with one another. We can still turn from the false gods of security and power. We can still turn to the God of life. May this be our prayer in the days and weeks ahead. Amen.

Gusti Newquist