“Delivered from the Powers”

Scripture

Sermon

In the midst of the continuing pandemic, while fires in my home state of Oregon threaten evacuations for my family, and concerns about contested election results in November, I’ve spent this week thinking about chariots in the ancient world. It’s not that your pastor has finally lost it, having spent too many hours among my books. This week, our text has resonated with my fears for us as a people, and remembering that our fears, while unique to our time, rhyme with the concerns of our ancestors. How do we prepare as a people, when the world looks like it is slipping towards violence? When the world is burning, what can we do? I grew up, as a Scout, learning how to be prepared, to not be caught off guard when a situation goes sideways. Kim Stafford, a poet, and my professor when I studied abroad in Scotland, told me that when he was a scout growing up, he initially thought that being prepared meant having all kinds of gear, just in case, to respond to any kind of situation he might find himself in. A first aid kit, one of the ten essentials for survival in the wilderness, quickly was joined in his backpack by more and more stuff, more insurance policies in the form of machines and tarps and fire starters. Over time, Kim was astonished at how much stuff it seemed like it took to be prepared. How were you supposed to be able to move with freedom through the woods? And then one day, as an adult, it dawned on him that maybe being prepared didn’t mean having a lot of stuff. Maybe, instead, preparedness was less burdensome. What if being ready was about doing the work emotionally and mentally to face head-on whatever came his way. Sure, having a pocket knife, water, a lighter and some skills was part of it, but it was also possible to travel light, and be able to adapt, using what he had on hand. It wasn’t about stuff; it was about trusting in something deeper, a kind of preparation that was less being a Disaster Prepper, and more of being someone who knew the deeper source of power within, when everything in the world went sideways. The Hebrew People write their stories down while they are captives in Babylon. They have been told by the powers that be to put their tales down on scrolls, to gather their wisdom, so that they can take it with them when they are sent back into their land, and so a copy can be kept to enrich the Babylonian empire. When they get to the story of Moses, leading the people out of slavery in Egypt, I imagine this tale resonates with their current reality in new ways. How did they prepare to seek freedom in the past? Could you really trust an Empire that said they were letting you go? How long would it be before this empire would swing back through to pillage their communities, their culture again? Knowing that this was the context in which our story from this morning was being written, you can almost see the fears of the Hebrews in Babylon. There is a focus on the chariots of Egypt. Chariots were a powerful force. The Hebrew people were a little bit obsessed with them, which might seem a little odd to us when we hear about them in our scripture reading this morning. We might think of images from Ben Hur, or the animated film the Prince of Egypt, when we hear this story about Moses and the People escaping from Pharaoh’s army of chariots. But these machines of war loomed large for the people of God. To have them as part of a fighting force was to be powerful in a way that was nearly unstoppable. Their riders were seen as heroes in the ancient world, and goddesses and deities were often depicted riding them. Roads were built so that they could quickly be dispatched to defend or invade. And the Hebrews? They didn’t have them. They were too expensive, the technology just beyond their skill. There was a sense that without them, they were not prepared to defend themselves, or to invade others lands, and a bit of a complex developed. They felt vulnerable, exposed. But this old story reminds them that their trust is not to be in wheeled machines. They are reminded that, when they were escaping slavery in Egypt, after the plagues, after the Passover, when freedom was so close they could see the other side of the sea; the chariots came chasing after them. The people are defenseless, confronted by the overwhelming power of the world’s violence. But they’re not alone. The Holy One is leading them to freedom, and is their rear-guard, in pillars of smoke and fire. And then, suddenly, all looks lost. The Egyptians chariots are closing in, and the people are fleeing, through the waters. But then, the very mechanisms of domination, military might, and power, these trusted machines of death, start to grind to a halt. The dust clogs them up; the wind that has pushed the waters back suddenly is not only making a way for the people, but throwing the pursuing armies units into chaos. The people have trusted God, while the trust of the Egyptians in their might, leads to their destruction. Jesus said it a slightly different way; those who live by the sword will die by the sword. The people are reminded in the story of God’s faithfulness, but also to be careful where they put their hope. If their hope for liberty comes from the violent oppression of others, they will similarly fall for the false security of military might. The oppression they faced and escaped at the hands of the Egyptians, the power of empire so terrifying in Babylon, if they’re not careful, will seduce their loyalty, and they will similarly become the oppressors they have feared. Audre Lorde said it in her own way. For the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house. They may allow us to temporarily beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change. Racism and homophobia are real conditions of all our lives in this place and time. I urge each one of us here to reach down into that deep place of knowledge inside herself and touch that terror and loathing of any difference that lives here. See whose face it wears. Then the personal as the political can begin to illuminate all our choices.” [1]  Beloved, I’ve been thinking about what our chariots are in our context these days, the tools of oppression that can seduce us into placing our trust in them. The tools of violence can become idols that slowly turn us away from deep spiritual truths. The false gods that seem more powerful than the way of Christ’s Peace and the Holy Spirit’s revolution of love are tempting. It seems to me that part of being human is to want to put our trust in what appears powerful, so we can have some sense of security. But there are other tools we have, other gifts we are given, that can prepare us to overcome oppression, to rebuild our communities in this time of struggle. It may look like weakness to our world, and yet can come from a source of power that confounds the powers that be. In this election year, we have seen the use of military force against peaceful protesters, for a blasphemous photo op by our president, holding a Bible in front of a Church. I worry about the election in November, that as mailed-in ballots are counted, some in power might not like the results, and try to claim a false victory. I pray that this doesn’t happen, but I have found myself setting time aside in November, and through to the Inauguration, in case we find ourselves in a time of massive protest, fear, and shows of force, with armed supporters of the President who feel the election was stolen. I hope and pray we don’t experience this, but the Eagle Scout within me reminds me to be prepared. When I think about what this might look like, I remember where true power lies; in the powerful bonds of the Spirit between myself and others. I remember that somehow a scrappy bunch of pastors and rabbis and Black farmers and Mennonites with trucks have figured out how to distribute close to 100 tons of food to our neighbors over the past six months, remembering how God has made a way out of no way over and over again. There are peaceful tools for deconstructing systems of oppression, rooted in the source of love and light and life within us. As I worry about my family in Oregon, and the climate crisis, I find hope as well. We’re facing the reality that we might be losing the false sense of control we had about being able to contain wildfires, keeping them out of the towns and cities of the west. I’ve found that my trust can no longer rest on our ability to fight the fires with the tools we have. We’re also seeing that the Federal Government, all too excited to send in federal troops to agitate protesters, are nowhere to be found on the fire lines. But the love of neighbors finds a way. As my Mom prepared for the possibility in the days ahead that she might need to load up her cat, my fur sibling and flee the fires, we talked about where she would go. She had already called our good friend Marie. I grew up with her son, Tim, in scouts. I love their family, and they are together, Tim’s wife and kids, grandma. My mom even drove the route, just in case, to make sure she had a few ways to get to their property. I hope she doesn’t have to go, but I take comfort that her friendships, and folks love for their neighbors, can provide a safe place to go. Beloved, let us prepare beginning inside ourselves, and by forging strong bonds with others, in case we need to rise up to march into the Promised Land. Let us keep watch for the winds of God’s Justice and hope in our midst. Our faith reminds us that what seems weak and vulnerable to the powers that be, is led by, and guarded by the Holy One, who invites us into a good and broad land of wholeness. May we be prepared, through the renewing of our minds, the strengthening of our bonds to one another, trusting in the power of God’s love, for the days and weeks ahead, whatever they may bring. Amen.

 

[1] https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/291810-for-the-master-s-tools-will-never-dismantle-the-master-s-house