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Standing on Holy Ground |
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31 August 2008 Carol needed $627 to turn her electricity back on and was directed to UCCSV by Montgomery County’s Department of Health and Human Services–HHS for short. Our Emergency Assistance volunteer confirmed that HHS was able to issue a $500 check out of them emergency funds, and that Allegheny Power would work with her for the last $27. UCCSV’s volunteer contributed $100 and Carol’s power was restored. Another neighbor, Ms. L, was widowed earlier this year. Her husband had handled all the bills. She needed $2,982 to keep all of her utilities on. UCCSV, along with a coalition of other agencies, contributed to the solution. Kathleen “only”required $18.55 for a badly-needed prescription. UCCSV helped her with a $20 Giant card. You’ve read about these women in the moving appeal that was posted as this week’s UCCSV Spirit News. The volunteer who wrote it was moved to do so by God’s voice, calling from within that burning, and the ministry in which that volunteer engages has become sacred in the calling. It doesn’t matter where we are; when we hear God’s voice, the ground upon which we stand becomes sacred ground. The volunteer who wrote it was moved to do so by the fire of need that burns and burns, yet never runs out of fuel. The bush that burns without turning to charcoal and embers is one of the enduring images of the Hebrew scriptures, one of the enduring images of the story we read today. It is an image that endures because it is the image that speaks to us of God’s call. Of God’s insistent demands upon our hearts and talents, of God’s insistence that now is the moment. We may each struggle with how to discern God’s call amid competing claims on our talents and interests, but this much is blatantly clear: when people are in need, God calls individuals. Like Moses. Moses, that bulrush baby, that murderer, that shepherd, Moses, comes to us today from within a severely oppressive, painful situation. Moses’ life has been spared as a result of the concerted efforts of his courageous, desperate mother, and those brave, subversive midwives, Shiprah and Puah, coupled with the timely intervention of Pharoah’s daughter. We can call this the first wave of organized resistance to the Pharoah, symbol of the Hebrew’s oppression. Moses grows up in Pharoah’s household., which must have been a dicey arrangement. After all, Moses would have been treated as one of Pharoah’s family members–but the rest of Pharoah’s offspring would have viewed Moses as an interloper. Court staff would be required to train and educate Moses...but they also would have to report his achievements in a less favorable light compared to Pharoah’s blood offspring.[1] Those distinctions are not lost on the child who experiences them on a daily basis. And children grow up. What does Pharoah do with the adult Moses? It’s the same problem Henry Higgens faced with Eliza Doolittle after she had been transformed from a flower girl living in the streets to a first-class young woman. Maybe it’s this upbringing in the shadow of royalty that contributes to Moses’ explosive anger, the anger that finds him killing an abusive Egyptian. Whatever the psychology, the murder is no secret. Moses is observed, and flees to safe haven in another country as a political refugee. Moses’ place of refuge is the wilderness, where he is taken in by the priest Jethro...the connection between faith and sanctuary has long, long roots! There in the wilderness, Moses heals. He marries and settles into the task of shepherding. But something else comes with the wilderness: solitude and silence...and his own history, including the pain and oppression of his people. From the point of that pain, that fire which burns without consuming, the voice of God calls to Moses. When people are in need, God calls individuals. Elizabeth O’Connor writes that the voice which summons us comes not only from above; it also comes from within one’s own being.[1] There is a direct connection: when cries of oppression, when cries of pain, when cries for help are heard by God, God issues a call to someone whose particular history equips them to respond to that call. Mahatma Gandhi was ill-equipped to bring voting rights to American women. But he was perfectly equipped to lead India to independence from the British crown. It seems ironic that for the justice that requires confrontation with the seats of power, often, but not always, God chooses those who are well-educated and know at least comparative privilege. It isn’t an accident that leaders of a revolution often come from the ruling class: they are the ones who understand power and are best equipped to articulate the vision of a new future.[2] Moses is well-schooled to bring his people from the chains of bondage. But a bird cannot fly with only one wing, and background is only one wing. It provides the context and the resources for responding to our call. But it does not equip us entirely. The other wing is our walk with God. Moses knows at the core of his being that his talents alone are not enough to free his people from their bondage. Moses knows he can’t do the job on his own. God assures him that they are in it together. The fact is, we are in it together. Whether our calling is to free the oppressed from Pharoah or the British Raj, Jim Crow, or South African apartheid; whether our calling is to bring healing and comfort to the sick, medical research to TB and AIDS, emergency assistance to those in need, or saving the environment from the brink of destruction one solar panel at a time, God calls us to fly together, to put the resources at hand to God’s disposal. Just as God is with Moses, God also is with us in our strength and our weakness, to work with us, to be co-creators of a new and more just future. When these two come together, the ground itself becomes holy. So take off your shoes! We’re standing on holy ground. *** [1] O’Connor, Elizabeth, Cry Pain, Cry Hope: Thresholds to Purpose, Word Books, January 1987. |