God in the Gap

God in the Gap

Pent. 17A, Sept. 2, 2017

Rob Gieselmann

God already knows Moses – That’s why God calls him by name: Moses Moses. On the other hand, Moses does not know God. He pretends to, but he doesn’t. When God finishes giving Moses instructions, Moses impertinently asks – Well then, who are you? Who shall I tell them is sending me? It’s God. But, god who?

Who is God? What is God? St. Francis is said to have asked the same question every day of his life, Who are you, God, and who am I? Now, we think of God as God – but the term, god, is not really a name; it is a category. According to Webster’s, a god is a higher being. And over the centuries people have acknowledged many of these higher beings. Thor is a god, as are Zeus and Apollo. The golden calf was a god, as was Diana in the Book of Acts. Thus, Moses needs that particular god appearing to Moses in the burning bush –    to distinguish himself, which he does – Turns out, this God is life itself.

The verb, to be Neither past, present nor future – but all three. I am who I am, I will be who I will be. And no matter how hard Moses tries, and no matter how hard you try, You will not be able to pin this God down – God will be who God will be.

Maybe this unpredictability is why Scripture ascribes dozens of names to God: The God of your fathers. Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. The God of your mothers. Sarah, Rebekah and Leah. Also - Lord, Yahweh, Adonai. El Shaddai, Elyon, El. Lord, Father, Mother. Sophia, The Word, Spirit. Theos, Kyrios, Pater. God the high and exalted one. Elohim, He who is. He who is to come. Paraclete, Spirit of Truth, Advocate. Emmanuel, Judge, Intercessor.

I am who I am, the unquenchable and unquenching fire confessed. I am who I am. I will be what I want to be. I will be what tomorrow demands. Who are you? Moses and St. Francis insist on knowing, all while already God knows you completely. We, you see, can at best, just begin to know God. God instructs Moses, Take off your shoes, the ground you stand upon is holy.

Once upon a time, priests were required to serve barefoot at the altar – as a symbol of their servanthood. Perhaps this is the reason, as one rabbi observed, Moses removes both shoes: submitting physically to God with the first foot, and spiritually with the second. Jesus defined servanthood in terms of your very life: Lose your life for only in loss do you gain. What will it profit you to gain the entire world yet lose your soul?

Do you know God? Or do you just pretend to know God? Have you set your shoes aside, your self-sufficiency, your bull-headedness – and yielded yet to God?

*I was visiting the National Gallery of Art in Washington some years back, andstumbled upon the four-painting series by Thomas Cole – called, Voyage of Life. Cole, as you may recall, was a premier artist of the nineteenth century Hudson River School - Each of the four paintings is huge – 15’ across - and represents a different stage of life – childhood, youth, midlife, and old age. In each painting, the subject – a man – is riding in a gondola on a river that represents life – In the first scene, the fellow is a baby, and the gondola is emerging from a cave, which obviously represents the womb – An angel is riding along with him in the gondola as a protective guide. The sky is bright, the scene is pastoral, like Eden, green and exuberant with growth.

In the second painting, you see a young man. Only this time, the angel is standing on the shore guiding the young man. Again, the scene is full of optimism and hope, idealism and clarity. And perhaps you, like I, recall those early years as simpler in so many ways. You didn’t have the responsibility you do now, and you held the future in your hand like a charm.

Now – after seeing the first two paintings, I expected the third painting to be equally bright – Optimistic, that time of life when a man enjoys family and success. I also expected the fourth painting by now to have turned dark, as a presage to old age and death. Instead, Cole painted the opposite.

At middle-age, the man is riding alone in his gondola. The angel is no longer there, and the man must fend for himself. Dark storm clouds loom, the sky is roiling. The trees are naked bare, like December, and the waters beneath the gondola are swirling dangerous. The question emerging from the canvas is this:

In his struggles, will this man choose well in life? Or will he succumb to despair? Will he build a life with meaning? Or will he end-up in an eddy of nihilistic chaos? What will this man choose?

And I wonder, what as a Christian do you choose? Do you cling unnecessarily to your life – to your possessions, to your job? Perhaps to loved ones, maybe you smother them – I know some people who cling to a false version of faith. Mistaking religion for relationship with God.

Did you know it is possible to cling too tightly to what you believe? And the question Jesus asks is: Will you seek God? Or merely pretend? Will you take your shoes off, in holy submission? Will you let go?

*By the fourth of Cole’s paintings, the angel has returned to the gondola to guide the man along his final journey. The sky has turned resurrection bright, beckoning the old man into its essence.

*Jesus doesn’t promise you all will go well, just that all will be well.

The companionship of God with Moses was dangerous, but that is how life with God is – Dangerous – you are no longer in control. God is love, to be sure, but God’s is a risky love – God risks all, and invites you to do the same. Remove your shoes. And God is not who you thought God to be. God will be who God will be.

Sometimes I think about life and the nature of life and how people get stuck – or just can’t quite let go – and how they hang onto life as though the nature of life isn’t transient, and as though they aren’t going to lose it all in the end anyway – like, you can’t take it with you – and I wonder why they hang on so tightly – I know it can be tough – but I also know the promise is equally bright. God’s invitation to Moses was a let-go invitation – to … trust.

Was it Winnie-the-Pooh or Christopher Robin who said?

                       

Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.

I will be what I will be.