Lead, Moses, Lead!

 Martha and I spent the early part of last week in Rotterdam, N.Y., sitting with our grandson Beny while his parents were at work. This was not hard work because we love Beny dearly and the house has been thoroughly Beny-proofed. He is very good at entertaining himself and he has free range to explore all three floors. All we have to do is put food in front of him when he is hungry and make sure he doesn’t try to go outside.

During the time we were in Rotterdam, Martha – who is superb at multi-tasking – was keeping an eye on Beny and her ear on a Lutheran zoom class for Intentional interim ministers. When Beny was quiet I eavesdropped on the class to get some free education. One of the lecturers was Tod Bolsinger, Vice President of Fuller Theological seminary for vocation formation and assistant professor of practical theology. Tod was using biblical references to illuminate challenges pastors may face with their congregations.

My ears perked up when Tod asked, “What is the greatest miracle reported in the bible before the Resurrection?”

My mind raced for an answer. Was it Noah’s ability to squeeze thousands of animals into a hand-made boat? Was it Daniel in the Lion’s den? Was it Shadrack, Meshack, and Abednego surviving the fiery furnace of Nebuchadnezzar? Was it Balaam’s talking ass? Was it David slaying the giant Goliath with a slingshot?

But the answer should have been obvious to me, given our biblical studies this month. The greatest miracle recorded in the bible prior to the Resurrection was the parting of the Red Sea so the Israelites could escape Pharoah’s advancing army, and the subsequent closing of the waters to drown the Egyptians.

It makes me think of a story we used to tell in Baptist youth camp about a little boy returning home from Bible School.

“What did you learn today,” his father asked.

“We learned how the children of Israel escaped the king’s army.”

“That’s good. How did it happen?”

“Well, the Israelites were trapped at the edge of the water and they could see Pharoah’s army getting closer!”

“Yes, go on.”

“And the people were frightened and begged Moses to help them,” the boy said.

“Then what?”

“Then Moses brought out a hundred pontoon boats and the people got in them. When they got to the other side, Moses called in helicopters and they sprayed Pharoah’s army with tommy guns until they were all dead. And the people said, ‘Yay, Moses!’”

The father looked at his son quizzically.

“Is that what your teacher told you?”

The boy shrugged.

“Well, no, but if I told you what the teacher said, you’d never believe it.”

Unbelievable? Perhaps. But that is the nature of miracles. You don’t believe what you’re seeing with your own eyes. But God’s power is vividly on display.

Professor Bolsinger’s reference to the miracle of the divided waters was a device to study the sociology of congregations – and their pastors – under stress.

When they were sweltering under the heat of oppression, the Israelites endorsed Moses’ platform of “Let My People Go.” They stood by him through ten plagues, even the last one in which they had to scramble to protect their first-born by smearing lamb’s blood on their mantles. What a horrifying night it must have been as the angel of death descended upon them, killing every first-born inhabitant, including Pharoah’s son. How many Israelites went to bed that night thinking, “I hope this works, I hope I smeared enough lamb’s blood, should I go outside and check the door one more time …?”

But it happened as Moses had promised and Pharoah freed them, sending them out of the land of bondage into the bright light of freedom. Moses was the great emancipator, the hero of the hour, and the Israelites patted each other on the back, congratulating each other for choosing such a wise and productive leader. 

They stuck with Moses as he led them on unexpected routes, following a pillar or cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night so they could keep moving. They trusted Moses when he told them to move, when he told them to halt, when he told them to change directions. They trusted Moses when God rerouted them, though the people didn’t realize God was setting a trap for Pharoah by making it appear the people were wandering aimlessly. Seeing that the people had no clear destination, Pharoah – influenced by hardening of the ventricles – resolved to go after the people one more time.

When the Israelites saw hundreds of chariots advancing toward them, they reevaluated their assessment of Moses as a great leader.

In an oral memorandum entitled, “We are concerned,” the people said this:

“Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us, bringing us out of Egypt. Is this not the very thing we told you in Egypt, ‘Let us alone so we can serve the Egyptians’? For it would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness?” (Exodus 14:11-12)

Clearly Moses’ church council is having second thoughts about the direction they are headed. But Moses, who is not the sort of pastor who seeks to compromise with the factions in his flock, stands firm. He doesn’t exactly tell them to shut up, because that would be impolite, declares “The LORD will fight for you, and you have only to keep still.”

What happens next is recorded in scripture with almost understated simplicity:

“Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea. The LORD drove the sea back by a strong east wind all night and turned the sea into dry land, and the waters were divided. The Israelites went into the sea on dry ground, the waters forming a wall on their right and ion their left. 

“Then the Egyptians pursued and went into the sea after them …

“So Moses stretched out his hand over the sea … The waters returned and covered the chariots and the chariot drivers, the entire army of Pharoah that had followed them into the sea; and not one of them remained.”

Not one of them remained. 

We’ve heard this story so often that we missed sheer awesomeness of it: the greatest miracle of scripture just short of the Resurrection. 

So let’s take a breath and consider the power of God that is on display here. And say to ourselves: wow.

But the march toward freedom must have been confusing to the Israelites, moving first in one direction, then in another, marching, standing still, marching again to the edge of the Sea.

Cory Driver, Assistant to the Bishop for Emerging Ministers & Ministries of the Indiana-Kentucky Synod of the ELCA in Indianapolis, puts it this way:

“There were so many confusing reversals in the process of being freed. An ancient Jewish commentary compares the rescue at sea to a man walking alone with his son in a dark night. They walked single-file to remain on the narrow road. When the man sensed a thief ahead, he moved his son behind him to protect him. When the man sensed a wolf behind them, he moved his son in front of him. When both a thief and a wolf approached at the same time, the man put his son on his shoulders to protect him from both threats (Mekhilta d’Rabbi Yishmael 14:19). The son, no doubt, felt confused at being jostled back and forth by his father, though he trusted his father to keep him safe on the dark path.”

But, confusing as it was, God did not fail the people. As we follow their 40-year pilgrimage to the promised land we shall see confusion again. They wandered in so many different directions that one humorist imagines Moses saying, “Recalculating … Recalculating.” Reading on we will see many more occasions when the people doubted, when they were confused, when they kvetched, when they rebelled, when they resolved to fire Moses and, even worse, when they tried to replace the LORD God of Israel with a golden calf.

Sometimes it was too much for Moses, as in Numbers 11 when he cried out, “I am not able to bear all these people alone. The burden is too heavy for me.”

This, Bolsinger observes, is a case of post-traumatic church syndrome. 

But as a leader of a congregation, Moses must realize how deeply his people are affected by the confusing twists and turns of their journey.

We have all been through these ups and downs. Martha and I celebrate the joy of children and grandchildren, and perhaps you have, too. But we have also grieved when close friends lose children to diseases, birth mishaps, traffic accidents, or overdoses. And perhaps you have, too.

I have celebrated professional successes, promotions, and journalism awards, but I have also been fired by non-profit church organizations that could no longer afford me.

I’ve celebrated relative prosperity, but I also know what it’s like to live hand-to-mouth in stringent times.

I’ve celebrated the love of parents and grandparents, but I’ve felt the pain of watching loved ones succumb to cancer, cardio-vascular disease, and dementia.

Life is confusing and it’s not unusual for any of us to blame our spiritual leaders for failing to teach us that life has its ups and downs. And every day with Jesus is not necessarily sweeter than the day before. You’d think Moses’ people had experienced enough in 40 years to know the journey will not always be smooth, and it will not always be Moses’ fault.

Cory Driver writes:

“As we walk along the uncertain path of this life, God’s leading can be deeply confusing. Make no mistake, God calls us all to freedom from sin and death, including freedom from structural sin, like the Egyptian slavery. But sometimes the path is confusing, and our act of faithfulness is to stop standing still and crying out and instead to move forward into what the LORD is doing.”

And when we are able to see the marvelous good the LORD is doing, it’s time to celebrate and dance.

Remember the words we heard today:

“Then the prophet Miriam, Aaron’s sister, took a tambourine in her hand, and all the women went out after her with tambourines and with dancing. And Miriam sang to them:

“Sing to the LORD for he has triumphed gloriously; horse and rider he has thrown into the sea.”

Life is not easy and sometimes it is very hard, as the migrating Israelites knew.

But in the end they cling to the hope that would be sung by the psalmists who came after them:

“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” (Psalm 30:5)

Amen.