Proper 14, Year B, 2009

I don’t know how closely you’ve been paying attention to the lectionary lately, but there has been a lot of whining and a lot of bread.  Two weeks ago, Jesus fed the 5000 with just a few loaves.  Last week, the Israelites started whining about being hungry in the desert and were fed manna from heaven.  This week we’ve got Elijah whining in the desert and Jesus describing himself as the Bread of Heaven.

Well, maybe Elijah is not whining, exactly.  You see, Elijah has been locked in an epic battle with a powerful woman named Jezebel.  Jezebel was the wife of King Ahab and had worked with her husband to encourage the worship of Baal among the Israelites.  And frankly, that is about the nicest thing I can think of to say about Jezebel.  She was not a kind person.  Elijah was not afraid to confront her about her many failings as Queen of the Israelites, but Jezebel was not really open to criticism.  Instead of listening to Elijah, she ordered his death.  Elijah ran away, into the wilderness.

Elijah is exhausted from running.  He has no future that he can imagine.  There is a death sentence waiting for him if he returns home.  In his exhaustion he asks God to kill him and then promptly falls into a deep sleep.

What happens next is one of the loveliest moments in all of Scripture.  Instead of killing Elijah, or telling Elijah to pull himself up by the bootstraps, or berating Elijah for his lack of faith, God sends Elijah an angel.  The angel gently wakes Elijah from his slumber and gives him hot bread to eat and cool water to drink.  Before the angel leaves, he touches Elijah one more time, encourages him to eat and then disappears.

Elijah has spent a lot of his life defending God of Israel against other gods.  Elijah has spent a lot of time helping people to see the power of God, the strength of God.  But in this small moment, Elijah experiences the intimate God, the loving God.  God gently encourages Elijah to press on and gives him the literal bread he needs to build up his strength for the journey.

For Elijah, his whining, or murmuring, or cry for help is met by God with nourishment, not rebuke.

Elijah’s need is met with love.

Most unpleasant behavior can be attributed to either hunger, fear, anger or loneliness.  Elijah was certainly experiencing hunger and fear!  When humans feel these unpleasant feelings and can’t quite sort out how to get our needs met, we lash out at whomever is around us.

I don’t know about you, but when I get cranky, nine times out of ten what I need is food.  My husband knows this by now and when he hears a certain snappish tone in my voice he immediately looks around to figure out what he can feed me before my unpleasantness can fully reveal itself.

The natural response when someone is cranky or whiny or unpleasant is to steer clear of the offending party.  But instead of moving away from us when we are at our worst, God moves toward us.  God nourishes us.

And maybe the lectionary spends four weeks in August dwelling on how Jesus is the Bread of Life, because this concept is so counterintuitive.  This concept is almost as hard to imagine as an angel waking you up and offering you a hot breakfast.

Jesus is easy to understand when he is standing on a mount or a fishing boat and telling us about God or how to live our lives.  When Jesus is speaking to us, we understand that he is the teacher and we are his students. The relationship is safe, the boundaries are clear.

But when Jesus describes himself as Bread-as something we bite and chew, swallow and absorb, those boundaries blur.

Ronald Rollheiser, the Catholic theologian, makes the connection between Jesus being the Bread of Life and being present in the Eucharist.  He writes:

For most of [Jesus’] ministry, he used words. Through words, he tried to bring us God’s consolation, challenge, and strength. His words, like all words, had a certain power. Indeed, his words stirred hearts, healed people, and affected conversions. But at a time, powerful though they were, they too became inadequate. Something more was needed. So on the night before his death, having exhausted what he could do with words, Jesus went beyond them. He gave us the Eucharist, his physical embrace, his kiss, a ritual within which he holds us to his heart.

Words are important.  I believe in words.  I have included many of them in this sermon.  However, words alone cannot convey love.

I spent a lot of time this week watching the footage of the journalists Laura Ling and Euna Lee reuniting with their families after being prisoners in North Korea.  I’m sure they spoke words, too, and will continue to speak about their experiences to their loved ones, but their first reactions were to run toward their families and hug them as tightly as humanly possible.

Those hugs, their tears, her husband wrapping his arms around Euna as she clasped her daughter to her chest-those small acts conveyed more love than any speeches the women could have made to their families.

In the same way, Jesus was limited by words to express the fullness of love he felt toward humanity.

And so, Jesus becomes Bread.  He becomes a kiss.  He becomes our nourishment.  He moves beyond words to commune with us in a way both spiritual and physical.

And like the angel gave Elijah bread to give him strength for the journey ahead, Jesus gives us himself for the very same purpose.  Whether we are cheerful or cranky, strong or weak, ready or unprepared, Jesus moves toward us and embraces us.

Jesus is the Bread of life, given to us.  And that is beyond words.

Proper 12, Year B, 2009

Have you ever tried to plan a party when only half the people you invited actually responded to your invitation?  I never know how many hor d’ouevres to make, how much wine and soda to buy, whether or not to borrow chairs from the neighbors.  I drive myself crazy worrying about whether I’ll have enough of everything to make my guests feel welcomed.

The poor disciples-in today’s Gospel reading, they are in a situation far more stressful than a cocktail party.  They have thousands of hungry people on an isolated hillside and Jesus is asking the disciples to feed the crowd.  The disciples know they do not have enough food.  They are not just a mini-quiche or glass of wine short, they have absolutely no food with them.  They could not even begin feeding the first row of the crowd.  Their fear that they do not have enough is a perfectly rational fear based on the evidence in front of them.

The apostle Andrew notes that the only food anyone has is five loaves of bread and a couple of fish that a child happens to have with him.  Somehow they persuade the child to give up his lunch and we all know what happens next.  When Jesus breaks that bread and tears those fish, somehow that not-enough food transforms into an abundant feast.  Instead of not being enough, the food just keeps coming and coming and coming.

Jesus takes the reality of a scarce situation and transforms it utterly.  Where there was want, there are now baskets of leftovers.  Where there was doubt, there is now wonder.

The crowd has gotten what they wanted.  Those who were sick were healed right before the scene in today’s gospel.  Now, those who were hungry are fed.  The crowd had needs and the crowd’s needs were met.  But these signs were not quite enough for the crowd-or the disciples-to “get” who Jesus was.  Instead of worshiping Jesus as Lord, the crowd’s reaction is to chase after Jesus and try to make him king.

Jesus is not an earthly King.  Jesus is not a magician.  Jesus is not Oprah in front a screaming crowd, giving away prizes.

The abundance Jesus offers is real, but the abundance Jesus offers is not the same thing as wish-fulfillment.

Jesus offers us abundance of life, not just abundance of stuff.  The crowd wanted more of Jesus, but not for the right reasons.  The crowd wanted more magic, more food.  The crowd wanted a world where Jesus was their King and his magic powers would give them everything they wanted.

Our passage today moves on to the story of Jesus walking on water and I don’t think the juxtaposition is accidental.  Jesus walking on the water is not about giving the disciples something they want.  Instead, Jesus shows them, in a new way, what it means that he is the Son of God.  Jesus wants to show them that his divinity is not about meeting their material or bodily needs, but is something beyond that, something even more wonderful than that.

Americans are living at a strange crossroads of abundance and scarcity.  Even though we live in the richest part of the world, we are feeling afraid about the economy.  We are grieving the loss of jobs and have a sinking feeling whenever we check the status of our retirement accounts.

At times, we, like the disciples, are convinced there is not enough.  There are not enough jobs available.  There is not enough money in the bank account.  There is not enough hopeful news to sustain us.

I know for me, from about September to April last year my prayers went something like this, “Please help me find a job in New Jersey.  Please help me find a job in New Jersey.  Puhleeeeze help me find a job in New Jersey.”  My anxiety drove my prayers to sound very much like the cries of the crowd in today’s Gospel reading.  “Help me, feed me, fix me!”

There is nothing wrong in sharing our deepest fears and desires with Jesus.  Jesus invites our lamentations.  He hears our prayers.  He comforts us.  He provides for us.  But there is more to Jesus than his role in responding to our needs.

Jesus, in his earthly ministry, always directed attention towards his Father, the Creator God.  Jesus redirects his followers from focusing on themselves and their own needs, to focusing on God.  When Jesus walked on the water towards his disciples, they could not help but be awed by the power of God to defy the laws of nature.  The act of walking on the water toward the disciples drew them out of themselves and helped them to worship Jesus as God, rather than Jesus as wish-granter.  Jesus showed them that the abundance of God is not just what God gives us, but is inherent in the very nature of God.  God is beyond everything we could want and everything we see.  God’s power stretches beyond our imagination and God’s love is deeper than we can desire.

Jesus walks toward us, too, and invites us to look up and out and to really see him for who he is.  Jesus offers us a life of true abundance–not of material possessions–but of relationship with our Creator.

There is something in that act of looking up, looking out towards God that helps us put our own anxious feelings in perspective.  When we remember the abundance of God’s love for us and for humanity throughout the millennia, we can re-evaluate our circumstances and see God all around us.

As Christians, our lives will not always be easy, but they can always be filled with joy and deep meaning.  Today at the [10:00 or this] service, we will welcome several children into the Christian family through baptism.  We know that throughout their lives, when they bring the broken, inadequate, not-enough pieces of their lives to God in prayer, somehow God will transform them into overflowing baskets of blessing.  God does this for us, too.  And when we realize we have enough-in fact, we have more than enough-we can start giving back to our families, communities and churches.

Thanks be to God.

Lent 5, Year B, 2009

One thing I have learned about Jesus is this:  there is no point in asking him a direct question.

I imagine that if you asked him where the restroom was located, you would receive a discourse about the powers of the waters of baptism and how they wash us clean.  If you asked Jesus for directions, he would go on and on about he was the way, the truth and the life.  If you asked Jesus what was for lunch, he’d tell you about how he was the bread of heaven.

Most of the characters in the Gospel of John are Jewish and are from a fairly narrow geographical area.  But in today’s reading we are introduced to some Greeks.  They go up to Phillip-who has a name of Greek origin-and ask to be introduced to Jesus.  Phillip goes to Andrew, and then they together approach Jesus.

Jesus, of course, does not say, “Sure, I’d love to meet these Greek guys!”  He doesn’t even say, “You know, I’m booked right now, but I’ve got some time tomorrow about 1:00.  Would that work for you?”  He definitely doesn’t say, “Hey Greeks, great to meet you!  You know, my ministry is for all people, not just Jewish people. I’m glad you asked me that question so I could point out God’s inclusive love for everyone.”  Jesus is much more elusive than that.

Instead of answering Phillip and Andrew, Jesus embarks on a discourse about what it means to follow God. But, of course, being Jesus, in ignoring the Greek’s question, he is actually answering the question.  The Greeks may not get to visit with Jesus, but Jesus is going to tell them, completely honestly, about what it costs to follow Jesus.

First, Jesus talks about his own life.  He describes a seed of grain that must die so that it can produce fruit.  Jesus even refers to being lifted up on the cross and how he will draw all people to himself when that happens.  Jesus’ ministry on this earth culminates in this ultimate self-denial.  If the Greeks were hoping to see some miracles or hear a cheerful message from a deity, they must have been sorely disappointed!

Jesus makes it clear that he is not the only one who has to lose his life.  He states, “Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also.”  For the Christian, there is always going to be an element of self-denial and of sacrifice.

Last week, here at Emmanuel we witnessed four students confirm their faith as adults in the church, and nearly a dozen of our members decided to be received as Episcopalians or to renew their baptismal vows.  The Confirmation service reminds us that being a Christian is more than just a label.  When you are confirmed, you’re not given a handshake and a t-shirt that says, “I’m a Christian.”  Instead, you are asked to repeat your baptismal vows-and those vows call for sacrifice.

We are asked to renounce evil powers and sinful behavior and to actively follow Jesus.

And following Jesus is not always easy.  Sometimes we are asked to be kind to someone utterly unlovable.  Sometimes we are asked to stop doing something that gives us enormous pleasure.  Sometimes we are called to give up something or someone very dear to us.

And sometimes, we are called to move to New Jersey.

Those of you who are on our mailing list received a letter from me this week letting you know that my husband, Matt, has discerned a call to be a Presbyterian Pastor and that in July, Matt and I are moving to Princeton, where Matt will be a student at Princeton Seminary.

If you had asked me four years ago, when I began my ministry as a priest with you that one day Jesus would call me to New Jersey, I would have thought you were crazy!  Poor Matt.  He first discerned his call when we were dating and during one of our initial visits to see his parents in Princeton, we drove to New York City.  As we passed the urban landscape and the lights and smoke of the factories of northern New Jersey, I very supportively burst into tears and said, “I can’t believe I have to leave Virginia for THIS.”

In the two years since that moment, I have learned a lot more about New Jersey, and have come to realize it is not called the Garden State for nothing!  I have even come to a place where I can look forward to our life together there.

But before I could get to that place of acceptance of following God’s call, I had to go through a great deal of grief.  I am not losing my literal life, but I will lose my life with you in order to follow God and that is very costly to me.

All of us go through these kinds of transitions when we follow Jesus.  When we are called to be parents, we lose the freedom of not being responsible for children.  When we are called to begin working a new ministry, we lose the free time we used to have.  When we are called to live in a mature and responsible way, we lose the excitement of our old, irresponsible behavior.

Following Jesus is costly. But following Jesus is also rewarding.  To be with you, I sacrificed a life in Northern Virginia.  To be in seminary, I sacrificed a life in Richmond.  To go to college in Richmond, I sacrificed life at home with my parents.  Each choice we make means there are an infinite number of choices we did not make.  When we make the choices that we sincerely believe Jesus is calling us to make, we can trust that we will learn and grow and be matured in our new context.

By choosing what Jesus has for us, we can enrich our own lives and the lives of those around us.  Each of you on a Sunday morning could easily sleep in late and have a leisurely day at home, but you have chosen to spend your time here at Emmanuel.  By listening to God’s call, and spending your time and energy here, you have made this church a place that radiates with the love of God.  You have created a church community that gives life to the people that enter its doors.  You have modeled for each other, and for me, how following Jesus and sacrificing your own desires can bring alive the Kingdom of God.

And so, we follow Jesus, not just because it is the right thing to do, but because a life of journeying with Jesus is far more interesting than any life we could plan for ourselves.  We follow Jesus because as we sacrifice our surface desires-for stability, for security, for an easy life-we find our deepest desires-for meaning, for connection with God, for connection with others.

I have been blessed to be on this journey with you-and the journey is not finished!  Over the next few months we will have a chance to think about where Jesus is leading Emmanuel and what following Jesus as a congregation might mean.  We are all on the path together, even when our individual paths must diverge.

Proper 22, Year A, 2008

My best friend in town, whose name is also Sarah, has an 18 month old daughter named Anna.  For the first 17 months of her daughter’s life, Sarah lived next door to me.  Now, as you all know, I am crazy about babies, but the truth is that I don’t know much about raising them!  My expertise in babies is more in cooing and cuddling than anything practical.  Professionally, Sarah is a supervisor of Head Start preschool teachers, so she knows a thing or two about raising young children. Well, I was shocked when my neighbor Sarah began teaching Anna boundaries before Anna could even crawl!  As soon as Anna began reaching for outlets and power cords from her stroller, Sarah would tell her, “No touch!”  After a couple weeks of this kind of instruction, this tiny baby, who could neither talk nor walk, would withdraw her hand if you told her, “No touch!” And now that Anna is 18 months old, and is an incredibly fast runner and inexhaustibly curious, when Anna starts running into the street or towards something dangerous, all Sarah has to do is shout “STOP!” and Anna stops.  Watching this is like watching a miracle.  Sure, Anna tests Sarah’s boundaries, but because she has those very clear limits given to her by parents that love her, she is a happy, well mannered toddler.  In fact, Anna is already learning how to say please and thank you.  I’m telling you-miracle.

In a lot of ways, at this point in Exodus, Israel is like a big baby.  Israel was born into a nation when it crossed the Red Sea.  The last couple of weeks we have seen how soon after that, just like a baby, Israel began whining, “Are we there yet?  I’m hungry!  I wanna go home!  This trip is stupid!”  Well, like a big whiny baby, Israel also needed boundaries.  They knew God had saved them and they knew they were now a nation, but they had no idea what any of that meant!

God gives the Israelites the Decalogue-another word for the Ten Commandments–as a set of boundaries for how they should live their lives together.  He covenants with them by giving them the gift of rules.  I’m sure they were thrilled. (Yay! . . .rules?)

The first four commandments are specifically about how to be in relationship with God.

First, God helps the Israelites by explaining who is giving these commandments.  He tells them that “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.  Remember, that in these days there was the belief that many gods ruled the heavens.  Here, God is telling them that the God who is speaking, is the same God who freed them from Egypt.  He goes on to tell the Israelites that they should worship only Him.  For this new nation, there will be only one, all-powerful God, not the many small gods that made up other religions. In our imperfect analogy, God is the parent, the only parent and God knows what is best for Israel.

The next commandment is about the danger of setting limits on the Israelites’ understanding of God.  Immediately after identifying himself, God instructs the Israelites not to make any idols of his image.  God knows that the Israelites will be uncomfortable with worshiping such an abstract God, but he doesn’t want them to be limited in their idea of who He is and what He can do.

Next, God tells them not to use his name in vain.  While we think of this in terms of curse words, what it actually means is not to make a vow or promise using God’s name that you do not intend to keep. Do not use God’s name lightly.

Finally, God commands the Israelites to take one day of the week, to rest from all labor, and worship God.  Part of being a nation governed by God, is reflecting God’s own pattern of work and rest that has been passed down in the Creation story.

Once these four boundaries are set, defining what it means to be a people of God, and how that people should relate to God, God then goes on to give Israel boundaries for how to live with each other. Honor your parents, don’t murder, don’t commit adultery, don’t steal, don’t lie about your neighbor, don’t covet.

They are pretty basic rules, right?  These rules give a framework of safety to Israel’s society.  If everyone follows the rules, then members of society can trust each other and a society can progress rather than falling into chaos.

I’ve got to say, preparing a sermon about the Ten Commandment in light of the Presidential Race and financial bailout arguments has felt very ironic.

Adultery?  Check.
Lying?  Check.
Coveting?  Definitely.
Stealing?  Possibly.

If I understand the news about the financial crisis correctly, we are in this financial pinch precisely because there were not boundaries, or lenders ignored the boundaries that were there.  We are here because lenders lent money to people who could not pay them back.  We are here because people lied about the amount of money they made or lenders just did not check.  We are here because people want to live in a bigger house, a house more like their neighbor’s.  We are here because we, like the Israelites are still people who need boundaries.

While we are made in God’s image, we can also be greedy and covetous.  And, of course, it is not just “them”-those Wall Street brokers, bankers and Congressmen who are the problem. We all suffer from the same set of problems.  The problems of our government reflect the problems of our culture, and vice versa.

In a recent article, pastor Jim Wallis called for culpable financial managers and members of Congress to repent, but then he wrote this:

As for the rest of us, perhaps we could also reflect on our need for repentance.

For being seduced into lifestyles beyond our means and contrary to our religious traditions of simplicity and stewardship.

For living on far too much credit, rather than living within our limits.

For sometimes putting economic values ahead of family values.

For letting the relentless assault of advertising and a culture of consumption to seed in us the sin of covetousness.

For valuing our lives too much by the cultural values of worth, instead of by the values of the kingdom of God.

And maybe this financial crisis is a gift.  Maybe it is God’s way of yelling “Stop!” while his people run enthusiastically towards a street of oncoming traffic.  Maybe this crisis will remind us that the Ten Commandments were given to us for our own good.  They may feel old and dusty, but because they address the human condition, they are as relevant for America today as they were for Israel thousands of years ago.

The Ten Commandments are boundaries that orient us to what is good and healthful and holy.  They rein us in from our worst impulses and give us a framework to live together in a constructive and productive way.  They remind us that we are not alone, but that God created us and guides us.

The allure of making a quick buck, or having a nicer house than we can really afford, can seem really exciting and fun at the time.  Ultimately, however, what gives us deep satisfaction is not what we own, but how we live our lives.  Are we persons of integrity, and kindness and wisdom?  Do we reach out to those in need?  Are we honest with ourselves and others even when it is difficult?  Our dignity as human beings comes from these kind of questions, not how much money we have or whether our house is as nice as our friend’s house.

God wanted the Israelites to grow up and be a dignified, holy, mature people.  He wants that for us, too.  And we are in a better position even than the Israelites.  We have not only the Ten Commandments, but also infinite chances to ask forgiveness and start over through Christ’s death and resurrection.  We also have the gift of the Holy Spirit, who will help give us the strength and discipline to actually follow the Ten Commandments, rather than just feeling oppressed by them.

As dour and somber as the phrase “Ten Commandments” can sound, these boundaries are actually a great gift to us.  A gift that helps us to know how to be together as God’s people and helps make our life together full of integrity.

Proper 16, Year A, 2008

Welcome to Exodus!  Where Genesis is about God’s creating the world and then covenanting with a particular people, Exodus is about the liberation of that people after they become enslaved by the Egyptians.  Exodus also follows the Israelites’ subsequent search for the land promised to them by God. In our passage today, we find out how five women who did not even know each other, managed to save the tiny child who would go on to triumphantly lead the Israelites out of Egypt.

About a month ago, I realized that the lectionary was transitioning into Exodus.  I am embarrassed to admit it, but before I began working on the series of sermons about Joseph, I could not, for the life of me, remember how the Israelites ended up slaves in Egypt!  My Old Testament professors are somewhere shaking their heads in disappointment. I am very grateful to the author of Exodus for tying the end of Joseph’s story to the beginning of Moses’ story.  The author reminds us that Joseph’s brothers came to live in Egypt with him.  Over the years, they had children, and their children had children and before you know it, Jacob’s children were not just a family, they were a tribe-the Israelites. Remember, that Jacob’s name was changed to Israel after he wrestled with the angel.

God’s promise to Abraham is coming true-his descendants are multiplying.  There are not yet as many descendants as stars in the sky, but his family is getting there.  But as we’ve seen over and over again in history, when a minority group grows more numerous in any given culture, they become a perceived threat by the powers that be. 

In this case, the man in power is a king, Pharaoh, who has forgotten the important role that Joseph had in saving Egypt from famine. 

At first, this king enslaves the Israelites and forces them into hard physical labor.  But this did not stop the Israelites.  The text reads,

“But the more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied and spread, so that the Egyptians came to dread the Israelites.”

In his translation of the Pentateuch, Robert Alter points out that the imagery here is that of swarming.  The Israelites are industrious, even when oppressed, and they keep having babies, which makes the Egyptians very nervous.  So, the king develops a devious plan.

Pharaoh pulls aside the two head midwives and instructs them to kill all boys born to Israelites. 

If all Israelite boys are killed, then the people would not be able to reproduce, but the king could still have Israelite girls and women to do his bidding, at least for a generation. 

But what the king does not count for is the brilliance, nurturing spirit and outright trickery of women empowered to do the work of God.

The first women that rallied to save Moses did not even know Moses existed.  The two midwives, Shiphrah and Puah, smile and nod before the king, agree to kill the male babies, and then leave his office and continue to do their job as they have always done it. We are taught in Sunday School to always tell the truth, but here Shiphrah and Puah lie heroically and gloriously in order to save the Israelite children.  When the king asks why they have not done as he instructed them, they completely play to his ignorance and stereotypes about the Hebrew women and tell him that they are like animals and don’t even need midwives when they give birth. 

These midwives remind us that morality is complicated.  Most of the time it is wrong to lie, but if you’ve got Anne Frank in your attic, or Rwandan refugees in your hotel, or escaped slaves in your basement, suddenly it becomes your moral duty to lie your head off. 

The midwives’ trickery keeps the Israelite children safe for a time, but the Pharaoh will not be stopped.  He invites the people of Egypt to participate in genocide-to kill every Hebrew boy they see.  We have seen enough genocide in our lifetime:  in Sudan, Rwanda, the former Yugoslavia and for some of you in Russia and Europe to have some sense of how terrifying this must have been. 

The narrative lens focuses now and we go from fearing for all the Israelite babies to fearing for a particular baby, Moses, born of the tribe of Levi. 

Luckily, this is a boy with a very courageous mother and a very creative sister.  Mama Moses was able to nurse her baby for three months and keep him hidden, but she needed to do something drastic before Moses began to roll over or heaven forbid, crawl!  There is no hiding a crawling baby.  There is no one she can give him to where he will be safe, but there was a small chance he could be found by someone, someone who did not know his ethnic background, and that they would take him in and raise him safely.

So, Mama Moses puts her baby in a basket, waterproofs the basket, says her prayers and sends him on his way.  His sister, Miriam, has a little less trust in the universe and keeps her eye on her baby brother.  She follows him along the riverbank until he is rescued by who else but Pharaoh’s daughter!  Pharaoh’s daughter is no fool.  She immediately identifies the baby as a little Hebrew refugee, but that does not stop her heart from going out to him. 

If Pharaoh was not such a murderous dictator, I could almost feel sorry for him.  He is the man with the most power for hundreds of miles around, and yet, lowly women, Hebrew women, even his own daughter are aligned against him all to preserve the life of a child. 

In a wonderful twist, Miriam thinks quickly, and persuades Pharaoh’s daughter to let her find a wet nurse for the baby.  Miriam fetches her mother and so Moses’ mother gets to see her child grow, even if he is unaware of her identity.  Again, lies abound, but they abound in such a way that Moses grows up safely, and not only safely but with a deep knowledge of how the powerful Pharaoh thinks and works-perfect for a man who will one day need to confront him.

The five women who help Moses are acting out of human kindness and maternal drive to save one kid.  But in saving one kid, they are saving an entire nation!  By defying authority and risking their own safety, and doing what they think is right, they are setting in motion events that will liberate the Israelites from their bondage and in turn creating a story that will give hope to every generation that has been in bondage, particularly American slaves. 

Women-and men-are still in the business of rescuing children.  Last year, on an episode of, Oprah, I heard about the story of Lysa and Art TerKeurst.  Lisa and Art are the parents of three young girls.  One day Lysa went with the girls to hear a choir of Liberian boys sing.  After the performance, the audience learned that 12 of the 14 boys were orphaned and homeless after the recent war in their country.  They also learned that there were hundreds of more children in the same situation in their home country.  After the concert, Lysa had a long conversation with the boys and then called her husband.  She says,

“I had to get in the car and call him on the cell phone and say something like, ‘Hi, honey. Do we need milk? And by the way, there are two teenage boys from the other side of the world now calling me Mom.'”

Sure enough, the TerKeurst family ended up adopting two of the boys, but that is not where the story ends.  The TerKeursts live in North Carolina, and Lysa’s four best girlfriends were totally appalled by what seemed to be a spontaneous decision.  After all, who in their right mind suddenly opens their homes to teenagers from an entirely different culture?  Lysa invited her friends to a concert by the boys, and each one of her friends was so moved they each made the decision to adopt as well.

Yes, all five families now had taken in Liberian children.

And still, the story is not over.  After all was said and done FOURTEEN families in this North Carolina community took in homeless Liberian children.  They reached past their comfortable lifestyles, prejudices, and fear and opened their lives to the lives of others.

We don’t know what long term effect these adoptions may have on the boys, but we do know these families have given the children safety, security, education, love:  all the tools they will need to make a difference in the world. 

And they remind us to keep our eyes open, because we never know when we’ll have the same opportunity.

 


http://www.oprah.com/slideshow/oprahshow/oprahshow1_ss_20070129/6