SunOct52008
Scripture: EXODUS 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20
You probably know the old story about Moses going up the mountain to get the laws from God, and when he comes back down, carrying these heavy tablets, he says to the people, “Well, the good news is that I got God down to ten commandments. The bad news is: adultery’s still in.” Now you can’t explain jokes, of course, but it’s striking that, while that joke certainly isn’t funny to everybody, it can only be funny with adultery as the punch line. It’s definitely not funny to say, “The bad news is: loving God’s still in,” or “honoring your father and mother’s still in,” or “coveting’s still in.”
And maybe that’s at least partly because this isn’t a particularly funny document. That’s probably the extent of the humor for the day. Because with all the debate and discussion about whether these laws belong on courthouse lawns or in public school classrooms, we’ve largely forgotten what’s really going on here. This is essentially God telling us how to live thankfully and joyfully. Given that we know these as “commandments,” it may seem strange to say that they’re all about gratitude and celebration. But they are.
“Words” are what the Bible calls them. Not “commandments,” but “words.” “Then God spoke all these words” (20:1). Words can be a pretty negative thing—“I’d like some words with you”—but they’re also the lifeblood of our connective tissue. That’s how I tell you about a movie or a recipe you might like, it’s how I tell you I’m sorry about your mother’s death, it’s how I’ll tell you that the Browns definitely won’t lose this week (of course they’re not playing, either), it’s how I tell you I love you. Words bind us together.
So what God is doing here is giving some words about our role in the relationship we have with God and the world. Admittedly they’re non-negotiable words. But they’re still words that grow out of the unfathomable gift that God has just given. Remember that, after years of slavery in Egypt, the people have been led by God out of their captivity and into a new freedom. So the best way to think of these words is not as demands that we’d better obey if we want God’s love. Instead, that love has already been poured out. That’s not going to be taken away. These words are habits that enable us to live gratefully, joyfully, faithfully in response.
There are two parts in this list of words. In the first part, the first four words, we’re told that the best way to give thanks is to love God in return. And in the second part, the last six words, we’re given the contours of what it means to love each other. That’s the way Jesus summed it up: love God and neighbor (Mt. 22:34-40). That’s the heart of what it means to be a person of faith—that’s what these ten words point to.
The way the list reads it’s extremely stringent. I’m sure that I’ve broken eight of the words, and I would venture to say that everyone in this sanctuary has broken at least those eight and maybe the other two, as well. At one of the churches I used to serve, a kind man, near the end of his life, a World War II vet and a distinguished public servant, once told me wistfully that he had broken all ten. My guess is that he’s not alone in that.
There’s no way, of course, to do justice to all ten of these words today, so we won’t try. It might make sense, instead, if we listen to how two of them might be speaking to us this morning. Given the financial traumas that have been stalking us lately, if you’re like me, you may be acutely aware of our predilection to betray the words having to do with our things, two of which seem to leap out at us this morning: don’t make an idol, says the second word (20:4); don’t covet anything of your neighbor’s, says the tenth (20:17). And these two cut very close to home, because many of us have invested a great deal in our things. We have valued them sometimes more than anything else. And we have not been immune to wanting what others have. During this crisis, who of us hasn’t wondered what’s happening to their retirement money? Who hasn’t worried about what was becoming of their housing values, or perhaps whether they’d lose their house? Who hasn’t feared whether they’d be able to get the credit they’d need to buy a car or get a college loan or meet payroll at their place of work? There’s been a lot of fretting and stewing about our stuff in these days.
Now, as with all things having to do with God, this is not a simple matter. There are at least two things that need to be said about this preoccupation of ours with our money and our things. The first is that thinking about these matters isn’t a bad thing in itself. It makes sense to have a financial plan and to carry it out. Furthermore, in many cases, a deep preoccupation and worry is absolutely justified. For those who have little, whose livelihood may be lost or whose home may be foreclosed, or for whom bankruptcy is imminent, this is a major matter. It would be cruel, it would be unjust, it would be extremely insensitive for anyone who lives a relatively comfortable life to say to those who struggle daily for food, water, and clothing: ‘don’t worry, be happy.’ Or even to put it theologically: ‘don’t make an idol out of anything you have and don’t covet what others have.’ Some 157,000 American jobs were lost this past August. What right does any of us have to say to someone who’s lost a job, ‘If you worry about it too much, you’re breaking the commandment about idolatry’?
On the other hand—and here’s the second thing that so begs to be said today—for those of us who live in relative comfort, with all our primary needs cared for, the second and tenth words may be precisely what we most need to hear. Don’t worry about whether you’ll be able to get everything you want at the new Nordstrom Rack at Legacy Village. Don’t worry whether you’ll be able to get the late model car you’ve craved. Don’t worry about the fact that you can’t afford the sort of deck your neighbors just built.
Yes, many of us have legitimate worries. Losing a job or a home can be a devastating blow, and grief and fear are natural and appropriate reactions to losses of such magnitude. At the same time, though, what these commandments, or words, of God remind us is that there is always something beyond the immediate losses that dog us. For many of us, in a way that we urgently need to hear, these words rightfully wrench us away from misplaced priorities and back toward the only basket worth putting our eggs into, the God of Abraham and Sarah, the God of Moses and Miriam, the God of our own parents, and our God.
That word about idolatry—“You shall not make for yourself an idol . . . You shall not bow down to them or worship them” (20:4-5)—is a word with peculiar power for North American Christians, since we clearly make idols of all sorts of things. A dog, a boat, a boyfriend or girlfriend—any of these can take on the status of an idol. If only we were promoted to vice-president. If only we had the 50-inch flat screen with surround sound. If only we could take that alluring trip to Cancun. It’s so easy and tempting to place our trust in lesser things, to invest high hopes in something that can never finally deliver on those promises.
God knows what we don’t. Hence this divine word that comes as a much-needed gift: “Stop obsessing about these lesser things. Put your hope not in them but in God. That’s what will get your life right. That’s what will let things fall into place. That’s what will give you peace.” This is a word that, when we follow it, lets the gears fall smoothly into place. It’s a word that puts everything in proper perspective. When we put our trust in God, then the ups and downs of our material lives take a back seat.
So the word of God that forbids idolatry and the one that says no to coveting are a huge gift to each of us. But they are so much more than that. They are also an enormous gift to others. When we honor the second and tenth words, when we refrain from idolatry and keep from coveting, we are reminded that the things we have are not really ours at all. They are loans that we have for a moment. And they have their greatest richness when we let go of them and offer them to others.
Fall is stewardship time in the church. Stewardship, in a nutshell, is remembering that what we have is a lot. And that what we have is a loan. Rob Bell, the pastor of a church in Michigan, has put out a DVD that we want as many Federated people as possible to see in the next few weeks. His theme is: we’re all rich. It may not always feel that way, but by any objective standard, we are rich beyond measure. “Do you have a car?” he asks. Then you’re part of the eight percent of the world that does. It doesn’t matter what kind of car it is. Just having a car, even an old beater, makes you one of the people that the rest of the world sees as the privileged few. Not to recognize that is to live a lie. Not to take that in is to live an illusion. “In order to provide water, basic health and nutrition for everyone in the world,” says Bell, “the estimates today are that it would cost somewhere around $20 billion—which is how much Americans spend in one year on ice cream” (NOOMA DVD “Rich”). Are we rich? You bet we’re rich. But because of the idolatrous and covetous scales that so often cover our eyes, we tend only to see what’s more and better, what the other person has that we don’t, rather than the huge portion of the world that has nothing like what we have.
“All that we have is a gift,” says Bell. “Food—gift. Clothes—gift. Roof—gift. That breath that you just took—it’s a gift” (“Rich”). So instead of enviously looking at our neighbors and wondering “When are we finally going to get what we deserve,” the real question on a World Communion Sunday is “When are we going to realize that we’re already incredibly blessed, and that the only way to deal with those blessings is to share them?”
Without mentioning the commandments by name, Bell is really spinning out the consequences of idolatry and coveting. “The best question,” he says, “isn’t, ‘What can I get?’ To take the way of Jesus seriously is to realize that the best question is, ‘What can I give?’ Because all of us can give something—here, now, today, and then tomorrow and then the next day. What can you do to be more generous? What is the next step for you? You have been blessed. What can you give? Who are you going to bless?” (“Rich”).
The antidote to idolatry and coveting is gratitude and generosity, pure and simple. And so we give: to the church, to the world with whom we commune today, to each other. Because it’s in giving, as St. Francis so eloquently and simply said, that we receive.
In reflecting this week on the financial crisis in which we find ourselves, Pat Conover, who used to be the legislative director for the UCC’s Washington, D.C. office wrote this: “I end with this thought: We [my wife and I] live in a great house and continue to share it with others. We have a great 9-year-old car that gets good gas mileage and should run well for many more years. We are very fortunate and we are thankful. Many of you . . . have a lot to be thankful for, as well. So forget about revenge and blaming. Focus on our abundance. Do your jobs. Help where you can. Spend wisely. Use it up and then recycle it. Vote for the candidates that you think are most likely to help us get an economy that also works for ‘the least of these.’ Remember that Jesus came to save our souls and not to make us wealthy” (“UCC public policy analyst explains the U.S. economy woes,” Oct. 2, 2008, www.ucc.org/justice/economic-justice/ucc-public-policy-analyst.html). May God continue to save and bless us, and may we give generously in response.