The Rev. Noah Van Niel
September 2nd, 2018
St. John the Evangelist
Proper 17 (B): Deuteronomy 4:1-2, 6-9; Psalm 15; James 1:17-27; Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23
Our first reading this morning came from the book of Deuteronomy, the fifth book of the Old Testament. The word “Deuteronomy” is a Greek word meaning “the second law giving” (deuteros—second; nomos—law). And in large part it’s a repetition of the laws Moses spelled out for the people of Israel earlier in the Old Testament, in books like Exodus and Leviticus. Why then, you might be asking, would they need a second run through of those tedious laws? It seems a bit redundant even for The Bible. Here’s why:
You are, I hope, familiar with some of the outlines of the story of the people of Israel, the Israelites. If not from the Bible than at least from Cecil B. Demile and Charlton Heston, and Yul Brynner and the movie 10 Commandments that plays every year the night before Easter. Slaves under pharaoh in Egypt, Moses leads the Israelites to freedom across the Red Sea, under God’s command and guiding hand. “Let my people go!” and all that. Now, in addition to their freedom, the Israelites are promised a Promised Land, the land of their ancestors, and after they shake free of the chariots and horses chasing after them, they have to cross the wilderness of the Sinai Peninsula, walk north and enter into their historic homeland. You may also remember that it ends up taking them 40 years to do this; far longer than it should have if they had just headed straight there.
But did you know that the Israelites actually make it to the edge of the Promised Land much sooner than that? They find themselves there just a little over two years into their journey. But they refuse to go in. Here’s what happens.
As the Israelites are camped on the edge of the Promised Land, they send spies to cross over into it and report back. You see the land was not just empty, waiting for them to show up. Other tribes and peoples were living there and they were going to have to rout them out before they settled in. So they send these spies to go and do some reconnaissance. They even tell them to bring back some fruit from the land to see whether it really is as fertile as God promised it would be. The spies are gone 40 days, and when they come back they’ve got grapes and pomegranates and figs, and they say, “It does indeed flow with milk and honey,” as God promised.
But then they say, “HOWEVER, the people there are really, really big. And they are way stronger than us. We are like ‘grasshoppers’ next to them, they say. They’re going to wipe us out. We shouldn’t go in.” Two of the spies, Caleb and Joshua dissent, they say, “Are you serious? ‘The land that we went through is exceedingly good, and if the Lord has promised it to us, He will bring us into it and give it to us.” {Num 14:6-8} But the negative voices, the voices of fear and trepidation, win out. The people are too scared to go in, they’re afraid. And soon the whole congregation of the Israelites, except for a faithful few, are standing on the edge of the Promised Land, eating of its fruit and saying, “Let’s turn around and go back to Egypt. This whole thing was a mistake. I’d rather be a slave.”
Needless to say, this response is not pleasing to God. It’s not just a rejection of his promise, but it shows a lack of faith that the same God who got them out of Egypt, across the sea, and through the desert, would now prove unable to finish the deal. God is so angry at this rejection of the future He has in store for them that he threatens to wipe them all out. But Moses intercedes and wins a partial concession from God. The deal they work out is this: God will relent, but the Israelites are condemned to 40 years of wandering in the desert, enough time for a new generation to grow up. A generation that can look forward to the Promised Land with hope and faith and courage, and not backward to Egypt. “Turn tomorrow,” God says, “and set out for the wilderness…” {Num 14:25}
Now fast forward 40 years, and you come to the book of Deuteronomy. Moses is old and gray and he stands again on the border of the Promised Land with that new generation, a generation that was not there for Mt. Sinai and the original laying down of the law and you can see why they might need a recap, a “second law giving.” And you can almost hear the pleading and the exhaustion in his voice when he says in our reading this morning, “So, now, Israel, give heed to the statutes and ordinances that I am teaching you to observe, so that you may live to enter and occupy the land that the Lord, the God of your ancestors, is giving you…” Please, he’s saying. Don’t screw this up again!
The future can be a scary place. Even scarier than the present sometimes. We inherently prefer what is known to what is unknown. The familiar to the mysterious. The future means change. And change is a challenge. Have you ever been so afraid of the future God is calling you to, that you prefer the safety of what you know, even if that means a life of gray instead of glory; of ho-hum rather than hallelujah; of slavery rather than freedom? Have you ever looked ahead at what might be required of you to take the risks and chances necessary to live the life you long to lead and turned back, rather than leapt forward?
A lot of what the Church does is future focused. For an organization that spends a lot of time looking backwards, it’s not so we can stay in the past or recreate some idyllic previous state of existence, but it is so we can look forward with hope and strength—the two constituent parts of faith. Think about baptism. Baptism is an ancient ritual but it is all about the future. Sure the present moment and the sprinkling and the anointing are important but what really gives this moment power are the promises that in the future, year after year we will seek to live up to the things we say we will do and be to help ourselves and these young children claim the promises God has made to us.
Because God’s promises to us are incredible, wonderful promises. Promises of tree boughs heavy with sweet fruit; of peace and prosperity, of blessing and joy and power and purpose in our lives. That’s the future God is calling us to, that He is promising us. It’s exciting. And it’s terrifying. Because it often requires us to be courageous, to take chances, to live on the promise not the proof. And while there may be hints at the potential happiness that lies ahead—figs, grapes, pomegranates to whet our appetite and embolden us—the faith that it takes to actually push out into the unknown, through the difficulties that might await—that faith can be found wanting when the time comes to move forward. And so we turn back, we turn our backs on the future God has in store for us.
The future God has in store for you is awesome, but getting there can be scary. So if we’re going to be bold enough to move forward through the fog that obscures the future from our view we’re going to need to rely even more fully on our faith. If you are anxious, if you are worried, if you are scared, if you are concerned about what is to come, remember this: we have a God who, as Moses says this morning, is so near to us that He will come whenever we call on him. Do you know God to be that near, in your heart, in your life? Because He is. The God who made Heaven and earth is just a whisper away. So take those fears, take those anxieties and worries about how everything is going to work out and call on God with them. The promise is that God will answer. Maybe not in the way you expect, but the Lord our God is near to you, and He will answer you. Never forget that. Never turn your back on that promise. Let it be the courage you need to the face of the future. Trust in it. Trust in Him. Because the same God who has been with you in lockstep as you’ve marched this far in your life, is the same God who has promised you wonderful things in the future; is the same God who can overcome any obstacles that might jump up and try to keep you from making it there. That is the God in whom we place our faith and our future. So while what lies ahead remains hazy, walk by faith not by fear. Keep your faith in Him. Faith in the God who looks at the apprehension in our eyes as we stand on the precipice between the present and the future, and takes us gently by the hand and says, “It’s going to be okay. Follow me.”