This sermon was preached at Christ Episcopal Church Eureka on Saturday October 24, 2020.
Watch the live-stream of this outdoor Eucharist service here
Readings for the Twenty First Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 25 – Year A)
Deuteronomy 34:1-12
Psalm 90:1-6, 13-17
1 Thessalonians 2:1-8
Matthew 22:34-46
For a thousand years in your sight, O Lord, are like yesterday when it is past and like a watch in the night (Psalm 90:4)
A man walked to the top of a mountain to talk to God. The man asked, “God, what’s a million years to you?”
And God said, “A minute.”
Then the man asked, “Well then, what’s a million dollars to you?”
And God said, “A penny.”
Then the man asked, “God, can I have a penny?”
And God said, “Sure…in a minute.”
This story about a man who is promised abundance in a distant future that he will not live to see resonates with our reading from Deuteronomy this afternoon, as Moses is brought up to a mountain top to see the promised land, into which he himself will not enter and which he will not be able to enjoy. Moses has done his part, he has fulfilled his mission, he has lived up to his name (Mashah) by drawing the children of Israel out of bondage in Egypt and then out of the Red Sea; and now someone else must take the reins. It was ten weeks ago that we read about the birth of Moses in Exodus and now we read about his death at the ripe old age of 120, as his body returns to the dust of the earth and as he is buried in a valley in Moab, but no one knows where exactly he is buried, which confounds everyone even to this day and thus shrouds the death of Moses in mystery and midrash. The Israelites did not have a physical location where they could gather to commemorate and honor their greatest leader and prophet. They had (and still have) a tomb and burial place for Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and the matriarchs in Hebron (I’ve been there), but no burial place for Moses. The people did not have available to them that tangible site where they could enact those powerful rituals of mourning that would help them cope with their loss and process their grief and find strength to meet the days to come. We can relate to that experience a little bit right now, can’t we?
When it comes to major milestones (birth, marriage, sickness, and death), we are challenged by the reality of this pandemic that prevents us from experiencing those tangible rituals that embrace, encourage, comfort and guide us. I’m thinking of those whom we have lost and those who have lost (or are losing) loved ones during the pandemic and are not able to feel that same physical and tender embrace from the church and from others as they once did. I’m thinking of our beloved parishioner Jeanne Fish who passed away in June. I’m thinking of Marcia Marling, who lost her brother Jack a couple weeks ago. I’m thinking of Jane Bermudez, who just lost her twin sister and brother-in-law a few days ago. And I’m thinking of my own father who passed away in March and my mother whom I haven’t been able to see in person since.
So what do the Scriptures have to offer us during this difficult time when we are cut off from so many sources of comfort and healing? Well, the Israelites took the time to grieve and to mourn. For thirty days, they wept for Moses in the plains of Moab. So let’s take time to grieve and to be gentle with ourselves, like a nurse tenderly caring for children (as Paul describes in Thessalonians).
And the Israelites honored the legacy of Moses not only by describing him, in this short panegyric, as someone who knew God face to face and whose mighty deeds were matchless; they also honored Moses by obeying the Law he received from God and then following his successor, Joshua, whose name is Yeshua, which means “God is our salvation.” Joshua fulfilled God’s promise of salvation for the children of Israel by bringing them into the Promised Land with hope and strength and courage. Joshua, Yeshua, is also the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ (Jesus and Joshua are the same name); Jesus, who saves us from our bondage to sin through his love and forgiveness and brings us all to the true and eternal Promised Land.
I was recently talking to a widow who was describing to me how much she missed the physical presence of her husband. She said that one way she feels close to him now is by spending quality time with Jesus because she knows that her husband is now with Jesus. She is part of a Bible Study that focuses on the Gospels and she finds it enormously comforting; and she is honoring the legacy of her husband, who loved studying the Bible. She then said, “I love spending this time with Jesus, but Jesus keeps telling me (through the Gospels) about all the things he wants me to go out and do in the world: serve the poor, feed the hungry, reach out to the vulnerable and marginalized.” And that’s exactly what today’s Gospel is about.
Like a master distiller, Jesus masterfully distills all the teachings of Moses and the subsequent prophets with the two great commandments: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul and mind; and love your neighbor as yourself. Just as the Israelites honored the legacy of Moses by obeying his teachings, we honor the legacy of our deceased loved ones by loving God and by loving what God commands (as we prayed in today’s Collect): “Increase in us the gifts of faith, hope, and charity; and, that we may obtain what you promise, make us love what you command.” And God commands us to love our neighbors as ourselves; and to be open to an ever-expanding understanding of who our neighbors actually are. Certainly, our neighbors include those sitting next to you right now, those with whom we worship, and those whom we like. But our neighbors also include those who pass by and join our worship from a distance, those with whom we may disagree, those who we might not like, and those who need our help here and miles away from here. That’s why a portion of what is given to the church is always given to our neighbors who are in need within the wider community and beyond, beyond even our country. So as we receive the Bread Made Holy, may we find comfort in this powerful and tangible ritual; may we rest and abide in the bosom of Christ, but may we also be nourished and strengthened to love our neighbors as ourselves (and to expand our understanding of who our neighbor is) and thus to honor the legacy of our loved ones. Amen.
DANIEL DeFOREST LONDON 