Month: August 2012

A Sermon for the 13th Sunday after Pentecost

Year B – Proper 16 – 26 August 2012

John Edward Miller, Rector

Jesus said, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever.” He said these things while he was teaching in the synagogue at Capernaum.

            When many of his disciples heard it, they said, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” But Jesus, being aware that his disciples were complaining about it, said to them, “Does this offend you? Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life. But among you there are some who do not believe.” For Jesus knew from the first who were the ones that did not believe, and who was the one that would betray him. And he said, “For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted by the Father.”

            Because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him. So Jesus asked the twelve, “Do you also wish to go away?” Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

– John 6:56-69

The Collect

Grant, O merciful God, that your Church, being gathered together in unity by your Holy Spirit, may show forth your power among all peoples, to the glory of your Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

__________

Barbara Brown Taylor is one of the premier preachers of our time. She has been one of the bright lights of our Church, sharing her many gifts for ministry as a parish priest, author, lecturer, and teacher. Anyone who has read her interpretive writings, or listened as she articulates thoughts from the pulpit, will attest to her power to use words with exquisite precision to speak the truth. However, Barbara Brown Taylor found that, after twenty years as a priest, she was gradually dying – not literally, but spiritually – in that very ministry. While she was acclaimed for her excellence, her spirit was slowly suffocating. Her agony eventually led to her to forego her vocation, and she described her decision in a book she entitled, Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith.

 In her explanation of why she left her work in the Church, Barbara Brown Taylor was candid and forthright. She said:

 Although we might use different words to describe it, most of us know what is killing us. For some of us it is the deadly rush of our lives; for others it is the inability to move. For some it is the prison of our possessions; for others it is the crushing poverty that dooms our children to more of the same. . . .

On the twentieth anniversary of my ordination, I would have to say that at least one of the things that almost killed me was becoming a professional holy person. I am not sure that the deadliness was in the job as much as it was in the way that I did it, but now I have higher regard for clergy who are able to wear their mantles without mistaking the fabric for their own skin. As many years as I wanted to wear a clerical collar and as hard as I worked to get one, taking it off turned out to be as necessary for my salvation as putting it on. Being set apart was the only way I could learn how much I longed to be with everyone else. Being in charge was the only way I could learn how much I wanted to be in community.[1]

 Once her decision had been made, Barbara Brown Taylor crossed the Rubicon by informing her senior warden and her bishop. As one might imagine, their reaction, together with that of her parish, was filled with emotion ranging from surprise and disappointment to broken-hearted resignation. Her ministry had been marked by nothing less than excellence, and they had dreamed it would continue indefinitely. But that hope was short-lived, and their distinguished rector was leaving.

In the final days of her tenure, Barbara Brown Taylor was invited to a “legendary” pool party held annually by a parish family. It was the kind of party that everyone attended – with lobster and kegs of imported beer and great fun for young and old. It was the rector’s first visit, though, because she was known for refraining from accepting any invitation on a Saturday night. However, having stepped away from her usual regimen, Barbara Brown Taylor went. She recalled being engaged in the evening’s hospitality and merriment. And when the party reached its climax with guests jumping, and being thrown fully clothed, into the pool, someone grabbed the rector from behind and threw her into the deep end.

 For Barbara Brown Taylor, that act was a moment of salvation. As she broke the surface, and observed her parishioners’ dripping faces, her thought was that

I wanted to be human. I wanted to spit food and let snot run down my chin. I wanted to confess being as lost and found as anyone else without caring that my underwear showed though my wet clothes. Bobbing in that healing pool with all those other flawed beings of light, I looked around and saw them as I had never seen them before, while some of them looked at me the same way. The long wait had come to an end. I was in the water at last.[2]     

 On June 19, 1982, the Rt. Reverend Robert Bruce Hall, the 11^th Bishop of Virginia, ordained me a priest of the Church. That was thirty years ago, and you helped me celebrate that event this summer with a wonderful party. I am grateful beyond words for your kindness. Not only was the gathering fun – with a Bluegrass band and barbeque, and plentiful libations, and amusing speeches, cannon fire, conversation, and multiple appearances of Miller’s long-gone mustache, but it was for me an occasion for thanksgiving, remembrance, and reflection about the meaning of three decades as a priest.

Some of you were present that day in St. Catherine’s Chapel when Bishop Hall placed his hands on my head, with fellow priests gathered around me to do the same, and prayed that God would make me a priest, as he and the people chanted the hymn, “Come Holy Ghost, Our Souls Inspire.” Many of the participants in that liturgy have passed on into God’s eternal embrace. I remember all of them and all of that day’s significance, even if my memory is fuzzier that it was when I was 34. 

Less than two years later I was called to serve as rector of this amazing parish. I had been a graduate student helper, and then assistant rector, so the vestry knew me. Even so, they dutifully followed the rules and convened to interview me for the position. It was exciting and challenging and I loved it. There were many questions for me to answer. But the one that has stuck with me all these years concerned the leadership of a parish parson. The senior warden asked, “What do you see as the rector’s role?” I hardly hesitated before replying, because the answer came as naturally to me as breathing. I said, “I see the rector as a player-coach. He is the person who has been trained and authorized to lead, but is at the same time a member of the team, working alongside his teammates to accomplish common goals.”

You see, I have been in the water with you from the beginning.  Ordination, and being installed as your rector, has given me certain credentials for ministry. But my ministry is shoulder-to-shoulder with your ministries. I have never been “set apart” from anyone in this place, or anywhere else. The phrase, “professional holy person,” is totally foreign to me. It is not in my glossary of important terms. What I do recognize as crucial to ministry is the need to remain real, to be a part of the community of faith, and to acknowledge my shortcomings as well as my need for God’s grace at all times and in all places.

And, despite the trend I encounter nowadays, it’s not about wanting to be clergyman. In ministry the operative words are “called to serve,” rather than seeking a job. Reluctance, fear, and doubt usually accompany a vocation. Anyone who desires the trappings of professional priesthood needs to re-read the Bible carefully. Jesus came among us in the form of a servant. Hierarchy, status, and pomp and circumstance were anathema to him. In fact, he became the sacrificial lamb for the principalities and powers of the establishment. But he accepted the cost of saving others, paying the price with his own life. That’s the way of the cross; our gracious God has made it the way of life.

I mourn the departure of Barbara Brown Taylor from the pulpit and altar of the Episcopal Church. Her leaving may have been necessary for her salvation, but it has been our loss, and God’s. But she is clearly not the only one to have headed for the exit. Church attendance has dropped sharply in the last twenty or so years. This is a reality across the board in most Christian denominations. With the exceptions of the new mega churches and the Catholic Church in general, the data tell us that people are leaving church for alternative sources of security, solace, and support.[3] In Barbara Brown Taylor’s case, the choice was to become a religious studies teacher in a small Georgia liberal arts college. She has distinguished herself there as well. Others have found their refuge and strength sports, school ties, and social networking – to name but a few of the plethora of options available to us today.

And it may be that the exodus was more about pleasure and convenience and following one’s bliss than about something annoying or repulsive about the Church. In our text from John’s Gospel, some of Jesus’ disciples left him because of the difficult nature of his teaching. Specifically, they could not digest his saying that, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me.” To faithful Jews this sounded suspiciously un-kosher, if not utterly abhorrent. Little wonder then that many of Jesus’ entourage chose to pack it in rather than to ponder his meaning.

But for today’s more casual Christians, the reason for going away is often about self-fulfillment, or finding something more entertaining than church, or simply that something feels better than liturgy, serving others, or following a difficult and demanding path. I find that the book of choice for contemporary seekers is far more likely to be Eat, Pray, Love than The Imitation of Christ.

Many have chosen to pursue a different paradigm than the one set by Jesus. Their new vision of what faith entails is focused on personal growth, rather than picking up one’s cross and following our Lord. It’s more about getting than giving. Today’s seeker is more likely to be looking for enlightenment than for opportunities to serve Christ in all people by loving our neighbor as ourselves. Or, like an acolyte once told me, they think of service as “a drag,” and just don’t want any part of it. In any case, the number of people who leave church to shop for fulfillment is significant, and we who have chosen to stay must pay attention to their need for change. In this brave new world of ours, those who ignore the voice of the dissatisfied will risk becoming obsolete.

My teacher Donald Dawe was a very wise man. When I was his graduate student 35 years ago, I was also pondering whether to become an Episcopalian. So I sought his counsel, laying out the pros and cons of my momentous decision. After listening carefully to my analysis, my patient professor said this to me: “Look, John, when you choose a church it’s not a matter of doctrine, or polity, or rules; it’s about whose set of absurdities you can live with.” As always, Dr. Dawe, was right. And here I am.

There are absurdities that we live with. There are defections, lawsuits, and scandals, and headstrong clergy, and smells and bells, and fancy clothes, and ecclesiastical structures that were perfected in the Medieval Period. But for many of us, there is something more important than those things – something that keeps us here, serving, worshipping, and enjoying this fellowship of kindred minds that is like to that above.

The church is an interim measure only. It is not an end in itself; it is not the kingdom of God. The church is a discipline for the time being, a bridge between the already, and the not yet. William Sloan Coffin once wrote that, if Jesus is love incarnate, then the church is “love organized.” We need order, organization, rules, and rubrics, because “all we like sheep go astray.” That’s why the bishop’s crozier has a crook at one end: to snag wayward sheep. But it’s a grave mistake to substitute the structure and its organizing principles for God’s love.

We are called to be loyal to Christ, and to follow him as our savior and Lord. Structures, hierarchies, and religious rules are at best auxiliary means to the proper end, which is Christ himself. It boils down to heeding his words, and depending on his grace to mend our brokenness and shore up our resolve. He said, “Love one another as I have loved you.” That is the heart of the matter. He beckons us to the compassionate life. He calls us to “go forth into the world in peace; (to) be of good courage; (to) hold fast that which is good; (to) render to no [one] evil for evil; (to) strengthen the fainthearted; (to) support the weak; (to) help the afflicted; (to) honour all [people]; (to) love and serve the Lord, rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit.”[4]

 That’s enough.

 In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Amen.

A Sermon for the 12^th Sunday after Pentecost

Proper 15 – Year B – 19 August 2012

by Megan Limburg, St. Christopher’s Lower School Chaplain

Psalm 111 Page 754, BCP

Hallelujah!
I will give thanks to the LORD with my whole heart, *
in the assembly of the upright, in the congregation.

Great are the deeds of the LORD! *
they are studied by all who delight in them.

His work is full of majesty and splendor, *
and his righteousness endures for ever.

He makes his marvelous works to be remembered; *
the LORD is gracious and full of compassion.

He gives food to those who fear him; *
he is ever mindful of his covenant.

He has shown his people the power of his works *
in giving them the lands of the nations.

The works of his hands are faithfulness and justice; *
all his commandments are sure.

They stand fast for ever and ever, *
because they are done in truth and equity.

He sent redemption to his people;
he commanded his covenant for ever; *
holy and awesome is his Name.

The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom; *
those who act accordingly have a good understanding;
his praise endures for ever.

  “In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

I want to begin by saying how happy and grateful I am to be with you all today and how much I appreciate John’s invitation to preach this morning.  I am grateful too for the hospitality and welcome I have received from Eleanor and from David. It is truly a joy to be here!

When John asked me to preach, he kindly gave me the option to preach from the lectionary readings or readings of my choosing.  I decided to begin with the lectionary as I mulled over and prayed about the possibilities for today. As I reviewed the readings, I had an amazing sense of being right where I needed to be. I saw that the psalm designated for this day is Psalm 111, which just happens to be the St.Chris School psalm. A little St. Chris background on this psalm, it was chosen as our school psalm by our founder, The Rev. Dr. Churchill Gibson Chamberlayne, and our school motto, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” comes from the psalm’s final line.  As St. Chris just concluded a year of celebrating its 100th birthday, having been founded in the school year 1911-1912, this psalm, and particularly this motto, have lately been on my mind!

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” Over the past 19 years of my ministry at St. Chris the boys have shared a lot of their wisdom with me, from the amazing to the profound and even occasionally, the profane!  I especially remember one little fellow, just 6 years old, who was in my office many years ago (he now a happy, well adjusted young man!).  A close family member was very ill and he was having nightmares and worries hence a few visits in my office to talk.  I can tell you that counseling boys is a wonderful, hilarious, deeply moving and always unpredictable experience!  With any boy I chat with we spend a lot of time talking about whatever interests them….. baseball or roller coasters or dinosaurs or sharks, then a deep insight….then back to baseball and sharks, another insight, then dogs and camp and their little sister, one more insight and….you get the picture.  So this fellow was chatting with me about cars, at 6 years old, fascinating to him, and he was envisioning and drawing his first car.  I asked him if, when he was 16 and had his driver’s license, would he come back to Lower School and show me his car.  I was trying to help him to think ahead and to see hope in the future, despite the current illness in his family…..but my counseling techniques were of no interest to him.  After I asked if he would come back to LS in 10 years, he put down his crayon, looked at me solemnly and said those words of wisdom: “Oh, Mrs. Limburg, you’ll be in the Windsor by then.” 

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” As a school motto it is, despite all of their wisdom, a difficult saying to explain to 5, 6, 7 year old boys.  FEAR of the Lord?  That sounds, understandably, scary to them, and perhaps to us.  The boys and I  spend many hours in Chapel together, and over and over I work to introduce God to them: God as the shepherd, tenderly, lovingly watching over us, God as a very present help in times of trouble, God as our fortress, God as our rock…..how does any of  this include fear?  Especially as the place to start, “the beginning of wisdom”?

As you probably know, the dictionary definition tells us that “fear”, in the midst of synonyms like fright and anxiety, also includes “reverential awe, especially to do with God”.  So our school motto is better understood as, “Awe, reverence of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom”.  Ok, awe, and then wisdom….where does this take us?

Well, let’s begin with awe and….yarmulkes.  Not what you expected, is it?  Well, in my ministry as chaplain I also teach World Religions to all of the 4th graders; the boys are fascinated with the details of each faith, looking for the all the ways our practices overlap and differ.  The very concrete details of each faith, like food and clothing, particularly capture the boys attention, and I get a lot of questions, especially ‘why’ questions.  Why do they eat that or not eat this? What does this head covering mean? Why do they eat at that time of day?  Now St. Chris is located less then a mile from an orthodox synagogue, so after some initial lessons in our unit on Judaism, the boys begin to realize who our neighbors and they start to notice some of the fascinating details of Jewish and especially orthodox life, the families walking not driving on Saturdays, the tall black hats of the gentleman, the long skirts of the women, and the yarmulkes.  And the why questions come, as they often see our orthodox neighbors not just wearing them at worship, but all the time, walking in the neighborhood, shopping at Martin’s, why? So it is not just to cover your head in worship, so why?  The best explanation comes from the movie we watch in which a rabbi places the yarmulke on the top of his head, and says that it reminds us, that even at our highest point, the peak of our skull, that something is above us, we are not the highest thing in creation, that God is above us and we need to remember and be humble. “Reverence, awe of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”  Several of the boys inevitably put there hands on their head, feel the place where a yarmulke would go on their highest point, and think, ok, maybe I am not the highest creature!  In a world of dizzying change, extraordinary technology, and unprecedented power, remembering that something, indeed, is above us, is a radical thought, and hopefully one that gives us pause, maybe even a reverential pause.

“Reverence, awe of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”  We have touched on reverence, awe, so now we must turn to wisdom, which is directly addressed in a couple of our readings today. The Old Testament lesson from Proverbs presents Wisdom as a woman, a wise, perceptive, thoughtful woman, who sets out a banquet for everyone, including even, or especially, the simple and those without any sense; we are all invited to the banquet.  The passage from Ephesians is even more explicit about wisdom: “Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time, because the days are evil.” This short passage from Paul’s letter to the church in Ephesus reminds them, and us, that our lives are finite and to be wise is, in part, to use our time wisely, thoughtfully, following Jesus in how we spend our days, serving and caring for others.  Here we might be reminded of those powerful words of Ash Wednesday, “remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return”.  We are mortal, there is an urgency to not put off living wisely, and thoughtfully, to not say, I will think more deeply, listen more carefully, really notice those in need around me, later…….no, now is the time Paul reminds us.

An overwhelming reminder, and such a high mark to reach, except for the conclusion of the passage reminding the Ephesians and us to live wisely  AND to do so“….giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Strive for, grow towards living wisely, but always with gratitude.  Live wisely but lightly always with eyes open to see the joy and blessings surrounding us. 

In a few minutes we will join together at this table to receive as our Gospel reading reminds us, “the living bread come down from heaven”. The service of Holy Eucharist purposefully begins with the Great Thanksgiving;  I urge you to listen with new ears to the words Eleanor will say in invitation to us: “Let us give thanks to the Lord.” And we will reply, hopefully not without thought, but wisely: “It is right to give him thanks and praise.’ And then hear: “It is right and a good and joyful thing, always and everywhere to give thanks to you, Father almighty, Creator of heaven and earth.” 

“Fear, reverence, awe of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” Let us bring anew that reverence to this table, receive the bread of life, and be strengthened to begin again to live in wisdom, using our days to serve, and always with thanks.

Amen.

A Sermon for the 11th Sunday after Pentecost

Year B – August 12, 2012

David H. Knight, Priest Associate

In the Name of God who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

“Therefore be imitators of God as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”   
                                                                                                                              Ephesians 5:1-2

On Saturday, July 28^th, here in Richmond at St. Paul’s Church, there was the ordination and consecration of our new bishop suffragan, the Right Reverend Susan Goff.  While I could not be there as Jeannie and I were still on vacation on Martha’s Vineyard, I understand it was a glorious celebration of a new ministry.  The Church rejoiced in Susan’s ordination.  At one point in the service, all those present were asked by the Presiding Bishop, “Will you uphold Susan as bishop?”  The people responded, “We will.”

 Now, this morning here at St. Mary’s, we have just celebrated yet another ordination.  “Ordination” you say? This was clearly a baptism.  There was no bishop, or priest, or deacon ordained.  It was after all a baptism, yet let us revisit once again the Book of Common Prayer and hear the words found in An Outline of the Faith commonly called the Catechism.  As you may recall, the Catechism is in the form of questions and responses pertaining to the Church’s teachings.  In the section dealing with The Ministry (page 855), there is the question, “Who are the ministers of the Church?”  The answer is, “The ministers of the Church are lay persons, bishops, priests, and deacons.”   The Catechism reminds us that the ministry of the Church is comprised of four orders, and we note that the first of the orders listed is that of  lay persons.  Yes, the order of  lay persons come first.  Then comes the question, “What is the ministry of the laity?”  The answer:  “The ministry of  lay persons is to represent Christ and his Church; to bear witness to him wherever they may be; and, according to the gifts given them, to carry on Christ’s work of reconciliation in the world; and to take their place in the life, worship, and governance of the Church.”

 And so this morning we celebrate the baptism of Henry Michael, who has now been ordained into the ministry of lay persons in the Churchof God. Now, of course, because of his youthful age, his parents and godparents have assumed the responsibility for seeing that Henry, whom they have presented for baptism, will be brought up in the Christian faith and life.  But all of us have a part in that responsibility as well.  As was the case in the ordination of a bishop two weeks ago when those present were asked if they would uphold Susan as a bishop, all of us who are here this morning were also asked, “Will you who witness these vows do all in your power to support this child in his life in Christ?”  We responded, “We will.” That’s no idle commitment, for we will have the opportunity to touch the life of this child in ways that will influence and support his journey in faith in the days and years to come.

 So often, we speak of our young children as the future of the Church and that is true, partially true. They are not only the future, they are already an important part of the present in the Church for they bring life and joy, innocence and wonder, hope and promise to our common life.  And so Henry Michael, we welcome you into the ministry in God’s Church and to the ministry here at St. Mary’s where it will be our joyful responsibility to watch you grow into the full stature of Christ and to support you in that journey.  Today we receive you into the household of God and invite you to confess the faith of Christ crucified, to proclaim his resurrection, and to share with us in his eternal priesthood for it is in the risen Christ that God comes to us, here today and in the days to come in words and in the sacrament of Baptism.  With God’s word and sacrament comes the promise of strength beyond our own. 

 In today’s lesson from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, we hear these words, “Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”  As God’s beloved children, we come together as a community of faith not only to love God, to worship God and to offer our thanks to God, we also strive as best we can to imitate God in our own actions and behavior.  Paul suggests some of the ways we might be imitators of the ways of God.  “Putting away falsehood,” he says, “let us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another.”  He cautions us not to let the sun go down on our anger, though sometimes that may be difficult.  He speaks of working honestly with our own hands and to have something to share with the needy.  He cautions us to let no evil talk come out of our mouths, but only what is useful for building up, so that our words may give grace to those who hear.  In imitating God, we strive to put away all bitterness, to be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another as God has forgiven each of us.  All of us who are baptized are ordained and called to be imitators not only in the sanctuary of the Church but on the stage of our everyday lives and on the front lines of our relationships with one another.  These works that we do in imitating the ways of God are not merit badges but rather they are marks of the life given to us at our baptism.  The beauty of it all is that you and I live by God’s grace.

 One of the happiest memories of my days serving on the clergy staff at Saint Michael and All Angels in Dallas was working in a service called the Joy Mass.  It was one of ten services held each weekend. After all, this was Texas.  This service was led by the Reverend Michael Harmuth, a man in his early 70’s yet who seemed to be ageless.  He could relate to all ages but children especially loved him and it was mutual.  During this service for about 200 three to five year olds and their parents, Michael would bring the gospel stories to life.  For the celebration of Holy Communion, the children would gather on the floor near the altar and watch as he would celebrate Communion, always calling upon different children to be his helpers.  Each Sunday Michael would say at the offertory with an inviting wave of his hand, “Now, if  all the young ministers would come forward and find a seat.  There are lots of good seats up here.”  These beautiful young children would gather with excitement and fascination jostling for a space as close as they could get to Fr. Michael.  It was a beautiful sight to behold.  One of the things that has remained etched in my memory about that service was Michael’s calling the children “our young ministers” for that indeed is what they are.

 And so today, we welcome yet another young minister, Henry Michael, into the congregation of Christ’s flock here at St. Mary’s.  We promise to do all in our power to support this new young minister in his life in Christ as he grows up here in our midst for we all share in how St. Mary’s can be a nurturing, safe place for Henry and his family.  To this day, for example, our sons, now in their 30’s and 40’s, still talk about people who had an influence upon them in the churches where I served.  These people were a blessing to our boys as they were growing up.  All of us here can be a blessing not only to Henry Michael and his parents, but to all of our young ministers here at St. Mary’s.

 As we witness these baptismal vows and promise to support this child in his life in Christ, may you and I also renew the promises we made, or that were made for us at our own baptism.  May we renew our own commitment to be imitators of Christ ourselves as beloved children of God, for

 We share by water in his saving death.
Reborn we share with him an Easter life
as living members of a living Christ.  Alleluia!  Amen.

A Sermon for the Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

Proper 13 – Year B – 05 August 2012

 Eleanor Lee Wellford, Associate Rector

The whole congregation of the Israelites complained against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness. The Israelites said to them, “If only we had died by the hand of the LORD in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread; for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.”

Then the LORD said to Moses, “I am going to rain bread from heaven for you, and each day the people shall go out and gather enough for that day. In that way I will test them, whether they will follow my instruction or not.”

Then Moses said to Aaron, “Say to the whole congregation of the Israelites, `Draw near to the LORD, for he has heard your complaining.'” And as Aaron spoke to the whole congregation of the Israelites, they looked toward the wilderness, and the glory of the LORD appeared in the cloud. The LORD spoke to Moses and said, “I have heard the complaining of the Israelites; say to them, `At twilight you shall eat meat, and in the morning you shall have your fill of bread; then you shall know that I am the LORD your God.'”

In the evening quails came up and covered the camp; and in the morning there was a layer of dew around the camp. When the layer of dew lifted, there on the surface of the wilderness was a fine flaky substance, as fine as frost on the ground. When the Israelites saw it, they said to one another, “What is it?” For they did not know what it was. Moses said to them, “It is the bread that the LORD has given you to eat.”

Exodus 16:2-4,9-15

            What thoughts go through your mind when you hear the Israelites say to Moses “If only we had died by the hand of the Lord in Egypt…when we ate our fill of bread; but now you have brought us into this wilderness to kill us with hunger.”  Or as The Message translates it in contemporary language: “Why didn’t God let us die in comfort in Egypt where we had lamb stew and all the bread we could eat?” (The Message, pg 132). 

            It sounds to me like the Israelites were whining and it makes me think that they had incredibly short memories.  After all it took to free them from Egyptian slavery – and I mean ALL it took, including the miraculous parting of the Red Sea – they had the audacity to wish that they were back in Egypt because they remembered their life there as comfortable! 

            It reminds me so much of my children when they were young and would complain for what seemed like no good reason.  And it would predictably happen when Tenny and I were doing something special for them such as taking them on vacation or having a birthday party for them.

            As excited as they would be to go somewhere such as the beach or the mountains, they would inevitably find something to complain about such as no TV to watch or no friends to play with.  It was when they said that they wished that they were back at home that I would lose my patience with them.

            Birthdays were the same way – occasions for whining.  They were also exhausting; but when my children would tell me that they were bored after having just opened up a huge stack of presents, I would follow up with something that usually include the word “spoiled”!

            But the Israelites were full-grown adults.  So, why did it seem as if they were acting like spoiled children?  The answer must be that I’m reading something into their story that isn’t there – that I’m projecting an attitude onto those Israelites that’s probably unfounded and unfair. 

            The conditions in the wilderness, including feeling as if they were literally going to starve to death, must have been much worse than any of us could imagine to have made their indentured status in Egypt seem pleasant by comparison.  And how human of them to want to blame someone or something for their misery.

            So, God and Moses and Aaron got the blame.  And why not?  They were in charge.  Moses and Aaron must have been just as hungry as any of their fellow Israelites but maybe as their leaders, they had to save face, not only for themselves but maybe even for God.   In the silence of their own hearts, though, I can’t believe they weren’t praying for God to do something- anything to prolong their lives.  The fact is, they HAD come too far to die of starvation in the wilderness.

            When you think about it, the Israelites were stuck – stuck between the land and life they knew so well and the land and life they were promised but knew nothing about.  Not only were they really hungry, but they were also scared and perhaps frustrated and sick and tired.  I know I’ve grumbled, and loudly, with far less reason than they.  So, I think it really is a mistake for me to think of them as spoiled children.

            And the Lord spoke to Moses and said: “I have heard the complaining of the Israelites; say to them, ‘At twilight you shall eat meat, and in the morning you shall have your fill of bread; then you shall know that I am the Lord your God'”(Exodus 16:12).  In other words, God had heard their grumbling and treated it like prayer.  God had not abandoned them.

            But maybe the question to ask is: why did God wait so long to act?  Why did God bring the Israelites to the brink of death before providing for their needs?

            There’s an expression that my Mother used to say when any of us children got impatient. “All in good time” she would say.  I found out later that that expression “all in good time” really meant at a time that was most convenient for her!  What about the expression: “All in God’s time.”  What does that mean?  What if Moses or Aaron had said that to the Israelites?  Would that have caused them to be less fearful about their predicament?

            The problem is that there has always been a big difference between the human clock and the divine clock.  And that difference seems to be most noticeable when we’re waiting for an answer to a specific prayer.  Faith says to rely on the divine clock.  Impatience tells us to rely on the human clock. 

            When we get impatient for a response from God, not only do we lose sight of God’s involvement in our lives, but we also lose faith in the effectiveness of prayer.  And if we no longer find that we can rely on prayer, then what can we rely on?

            The truth is that we can rely on the same thing that the Israelites found that they could rely on so many years ago.  And that is God’s unfailing love and care and concern for us, the crown jewel of His creation, the apple of His eye, the reflection of His own image.   Why would God want to turn His back on that?   It’s just our short memories of God’s involvement in our lives that cause us to ask: “But what have you done for us lately?”

            What about those unanswered prayers of ours or at least those prayers about which God seems to be taking His sweet time?

            When we wait, according to author Margaret Guenther, we live simultaneously in the “not yet ” and in the present “and the tension between them can (be stressful) and confusing”  (My Soul in Silence Waits, Cambridge: Cowley Publications, 2000, p.44).  That’s what the Israelites found out and maybe that’s where we sometimes find ourselves – praying hard for clarity about the future.  And in this day and age, we want efficiency in the answer to our prayers – the same efficiency we demand in other parts of our lives.  Yet Psalm 130 says otherwise: “O Israel,” it says, “wait for the Lord” (verse 6).

            In other words, Margaret Guenther writes in her book called My Soul in Silence Waits (p.49): “Our waiting will not go unnoticed by God.  Even when God feels distant and we feel lonely or even abandoned we are waiting in the context of (God’s) enduring love (for us).”

            God’s time.  Waiting for it to coincide with our time is perhaps the greatest test of our patience and lands us in that most uncomfortable place called “in the meantime” or the “in between” time.  It’s where grumbling and complaining are heard the loudest and faith slips away unheeded.  It’s a place where we try our hardest to exert some kind of control yet end up feeling powerless.  “Why didn’t God let us die in comfort in Egypt” complained the Israelites. 

            We might express it in a different way such as: “My old job was intolerable; but relative to having no work and no income now, maybe it wasn’t all that bad.”  Or, “I know I was in an abusive relationship, but those words that used to hurt so much are better than this awful loneliness that I feel right now.”  Or, “I couldn’t wait to leave home and experience the freedoms of being on my own.  Why didn’t anyone tell my how hard it would be?  Where are you, O God?”

            God’s time.  It may seem like a time when “nothing” is happening, but it may well be the time “to let go and let God work” as David Muyskens writes in his book called Sacred Breath.  It may be the time “when God is (most) present in power and (in) love” (Nashville: Upper Room Books, 2010, p. 88).

            So, if the expression “All in good time” makes you anxious because you want that time to be sooner rather than later as I’m sure the Israelites in the desert wanted, think instead of the expression “All in God’s time” and know that that time is the only time worth waiting for – no matter how long it takes.