“Turn Aside and See” – September 24th, 2023

Reading:

Blessing at the Burning Bush,
Rev. Jan Richardson

You will have to decide
if you want this—
want the blessing
that comes to you
on an ordinary day
when you are minding
your own path,
bent on the task before you
that you have done
a hundred times,
a thousand.

You will have to choose
for yourself
whether you will attend
to the signs,
whether you will open your eyes
to the searing light, the heat,
whether you will open
your ears, your heart
to the voice
that knows your name,
that tells you this place
where you stand—
this ground so familiar
and therefore unregarded—
is, in fact,
holy.

You will have to discern
whether you have
defenses enough
to rebuff the call,
excuses sufficient
to withstand the pull
of what blazes before you;
whether you will
hide your face,
will turn away
back toward—
what, exactly?

No path from here
could ever be
ordinary again,
could ever become
unstrange to you
whose seeing
has been scorched
beyond all salving.

You will know your path
not by how it shines
before you
but by how it burns
within you,
leaving you whole
as you go from here
blazing with
your inarticulate,
your inescapable
yes.

SERMON:

“Turn Aside and See”

From Exodus, chapter 3, the story of Moses and the Burning Bush–I have chosen the New King James Version, and I have also adjusted the gendered language used to describe God:

Now Moses was tending the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian. And he led the flock to the back of the desert, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. ² And the Angel of [God] appeared to him in a flame of fire from the midst of a bush. So he looked, and behold, the bush was burning with fire, but the bush was not consumed. ³ Then Moses said, “I will now turn aside and see this great sight, why the bush does not burn.”

⁴ So when [God] saw that he turned aside to look, God called to him from the midst of the bush and said, “Moses, Moses!”

And he said, “Here I am.”

⁵ Then [God] said, “Do not draw near this place. Take your sandals off your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground.” ⁶ Moreover [God] said, “I am the God of your [family]—the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look upon God.

This little wisdom story has it all. Curiosity, a God that knows him by name, a call, a willingness, a revelation­–where you stand is holy!–ancestors, lost in the wilderness and fear: and Moses hid his face for he was afraid…

Rabbi Rachel Barenblat, writes “The most remarkable thing for me, in this snippet of a story, is not [the burning bush]. It’s the moment where Moses takes notice of the bush, and says to himself, ‘hang on, this is incredible, I’ve got to stop and pay some attention to this.’ The moment where Moses’ eyes are opened, his consciousness expanded, because he’s both willing and able to see the wonder that’s right in front of him….” She goes on to say that, “There’s midrash (Midrash is rabbinic interpretations and study that go beneath and beyond the Torah text)–[there’s midrash] which suggests Moses wasn’t the first person to pass by the burning bush. Others had walked by and ignored it. Maybe they thought they were seeing things. Maybe they assumed it was something other than what it was. Maybe they figured there was some rational explanation for a bush that burned but was not consumed, and anyway they had things to do, sheep to herd and goats to yell at. One way or another, as a result of their distraction, or unwillingness to even GO THERE they missed the presence of God…manifest in plain sight.”

“But not Moses, Moses had his eyes open. He noticed, and marveled, and altered his path to get a closer look…” And it was only when he did this, that God spoke to him. Not before.

And let’s remember–let’s flush out all the circumstance and subtext here–all of this happened with a whole flock of sheep running loose. I don’t have a lot of sheep herding experience, but sheep-herders seem…busy. It doesn’t strike me as work that allows for much detouring or distraction. Somewhere in Moses’ mind had to be the question of: how much time exactly do I have here? And now I need to take my shoes off? Here?! In a scorching hot Saudi Arabian desert? With all these rocks and thorny plants and scorpions and goodness knows what else!

And yet. Despite all of this. Moses turned aside. And he didn’t leave.

I used to work with a Jungian Analyst–a therapist whose training was rooted in Carl Jung’s study of dreams–and she taught me to assume that all of the characters in my dreams were some aspect of me–for better or worse. I like to read the bible the same way, or any wisdom text. The bible, like any myth story, hero’s journey, piece of art, poetry, is meant to speak to us and this experience of being human. Mean something to us. Help us better know ourselves.

One of Unitarian Universalists great historians, Rev. John Buerens, says it this way: “When we ask the question ‘where do religious traditions come from? One answer is obvious. They come from human beings…” The stories of their lives. He says that, “underneath so much of our religious, philosophical, historical, scientific seeking lies a persistent, unanswerable question: What kind of story are we in?” The bible, he says, can only be understood when we “understand what it means in our own lives.” He puts forward two questions that he believes need facing when encountering the bible: “what does this story mean for me?” and “what challenging questions does it pose about the living of my life?” Entering these stories personally, seeing oneself in all the characters helps to reveal the answers to these questions more fully.

My lofty hope as a minister and human is that I never find myself in the category of “walked right by the burning bush” or worse, saw it, but, like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, pulled out my oversized pocket watch and said, “no time to say hello, goodbye, I’m late, I’m late, I’m late.”

Alas, I am human.

One of you recently, and so very bravely, told me that I hadn’t responded to some of your emails back in the spring, and that it hurt you. And the truth is that I was doing too much–too focused on the work of the day like some of those who walked by that burning bush–massive pocket watch in hand–and I missed the invitation to turn aside and see.

I have also been afraid. Afraid to turn aside and see. Because if I do I know I will be challenged and changed. As a white, cis-gendered person I have, at times, absolutely averted my gaze when faced with burning and fierce truths that scare me or ask me to do something uncomfortable. Or ask me to give up something. Pretended that the burning bush wasn’t there. Hoped that someone else would deal with it.

I also see myself in Moses. As all of you should. Searching for meaning. And when finding it, saying YES. Here I am! Yes, I will take my shoes off. Yes. But I am also terrified. There is not one prophet in the bible–both the Hebrew and the New Testament–who isn’t doubting, questioning, exhausted and frightened by the way. Yes, the prophets feel a blast from beyond, and they feel and speak truth to power fiercely–but they are all human. And they mess up. And they question themselves. And they feel hopeless. And they need help. Some of them weep constantly–Jeremiah, one my favorites, is known as the Weeping Prophet. That poor man weeps from chapter 1 through to chapter 52. It’s the one of the longest books in the Hebrew bible! That’s a lot of weeping. Can we as people of faith, enter their stories too? I think all of us can in one way or another.

Here’s another midrash about Moses offered by Rev. Amy Zucker Morgenstern: Moses goes to the far side of the wilderness, in search of a lost sheep, and it brings him to the most desolate and unknown of places. He’s been climbing up and down on rocky and thorny land; he’s tired; he’s far from home–this is not the land of his people; and it is in this lost wild place that he is transformed and called to something huge.

This is an invitation to ask ourselves about the times when we have been lost in the wilderness–those strange and unknown places that lead us far from home, from all that we know–I am speaking symbolically now–maybe because we were searching for something in ourselves; or for direction; or for healing or meaning. Maybe we didn’t know we were lost or adrift at all…until something utterly wondrous gets our attention.

I felt this in my recent heart-to-heart with one of you when you told me you were hurt; I felt it when some of you boldly spoke your pain about these things on our walls and gave me the courage to say ENOUGH. This stuff has to come down NOW. Others were also cracked open by these blazes of courageous fire. But we are still in the wildnerness! Where will this take us? And many of us feel like we are far from home.

True, Moses spoke directly with his Jewish God, Moses negotiated with the greatest temporal power of his time. Moses led the Israelites out of slavery, across the Sea of Reeds, through the desert and to the highest of mountains. Into covenant. And ultimately, to the Promised Land. And this was supposed to take 11 days…but it took 40 years!!! Was this what Moses signed up for? No. He was inelegant and clumsy and even doubting, but he kept on. Kept turning aside to see. And all of this made him one of the greatest prophets we know. And, friends, most of these are achievements I am and most of us are unlikely to ever match. Or even come close to matching.

But the precondition for all those things happening, for all the amazing work Moses did in the world, was the simple opening of his eyes and heart. That was it. And I believe we can do this. His vision was clear enough that he could see what was in front of him, recognize its sacred power, and despite being frightened, heed it’s call; share it and be it in the world. Respond. Act. Even though he was afraid. We are all capable of this in our own ways. These arise out of qualities inherent in us all.

Rev. Jan Richardson’s Blessing at the Burning Bush captures this beautifully:

You will have to decide
if you want this—
want the blessing
that comes to you
on an ordinary day
when you are minding
your own path,
bent on the task before you
that you have done
a hundred times,
a thousand.

You will have to choose
for yourself
whether you will attend
to the signs,
whether you will open your eyes
to the searing light, the heat,
whether you will open
your ears, your heart
to the voice
that knows your name,
that tells you this place
where you stand—
this ground so familiar
and therefore unregarded—
is, in fact,
holy.

You will have to discern…

You will know your path
not by how it shines
before you
but by how it burns
within you,
leaving you whole
as you go from here
blazing with
your inarticulate,
your inescapable
yes.

I suspect that we all live for moments of heightened awareness in which there is MORE–to know, to see, to feel. Moments where, although fleeting, we seem to be in touch with something greater than ourselves. Where all that seemed so very important just melts aways. And the very ground beneath us feels holy. These might never be as bright as Moses’ Burning Bush, but even in their seeming smallness, they keep us going. Heart-openings, moments of love and understanding, compassion, beauty, changes of mind and perspective, of “I’m sorry,” AHA!, WOW! All of these as my colleague Rev. Harold Babcock used to say are, “… reminders that the world is charged with the grandeur of God, that the sacred is accessible, that life is more than we are sometimes able to see that it is, that life is a gift.”

My hope for you this fall, amid all this change and unknown-ness, and the unsteady times we are living through, is that you too may occasionally catch glimpses of the divine working in your lives, wander out of your comfort zone and look for it. Slow down enough to see it. Be it a burning bush or a flock of geese or a deer that catches you off guard, or in the testimony of someone who tells you they are hurting. Or in the utterly ordinary moments of your days that hold so many invitations to Turn Aside and See–in the laugh of a child, or in the face of someone you love. In the smile of a stranger. May you know it all as holy, may you be changed by it and may you do something with it.

May it be so for every one of us.

We are going, heaven knows where we are going, but we know within…Let’s sing this! Woyaya #1009