by Kate Lore, Social Justice Director

A sermon given August 31, 2003

First Unitarian Church

Portland, Oregon

There have been times in my life when I have felt as if I were wandering aimlessly through some sort of immense desert.   We all have these sorts of experiences, I think, when life suddenly spins out of control and we find ourselves feeling utterly powerless and hopelessly lost.   I imagine that some of you might be feeling that way right now—either from a personal loss or perhaps from watching our society shifting under the weight of Big Money politics, a declining economy and the fear of terrorism.  Because these are hard times for many of us, I want to preach today about a biblical story that has been comforting people for several centuries now: The Exodus.

 I realize that some of you might wince at the thought of this subject matter because of its association with the Israeli/Palestine conflict.  There has been much arguing back and forth about whether Jews are indeed God’s chosen people, or whether the land of Canaan—or Palestine, as it is know today—is their God-given territory.  But I won’t be doing a literal read of this biblical passage because I think there is real danger in reading biblical stories too literally.  Rather, I want to explore the Exodus as an archetypal tale of faith, resilience, and connection to God.  I want to examine with you what it is about this story that provides so much comfort and hope to people who are suffering oppressive circumstances, and why it is that this story in particular has become such a central theme of Liberation Theology—a theology which I personally embrace.

For those of you unfamiliar with Liberation Theology, it is an international movement that sprang to life in the 1960s and 70s when people throughout Latin Americans were facing severe government repression and poverty. Liberation Theologians at that time were notably different from other theologians in that they identified two distinct types of Christianity functioning in the world:

1)  First is the kind, which serves the establishment—that is, those in authority, such as a government—and which emphasizes the rewards that will come once a person enters Heaven (the kind of Christianity that bolsters the Bush Administration might be an example of this);

2) A second kind of Christianity—the type advocated in Liberation Theology—views God primarily as Liberator.  Compassion and justice for the poor are upheld as central spiritual aims, and the focus is here on earth, on this side of death.

Although Liberation Theology emerged from the Catholic tradition, it has since increased in scope to include African, African-American, Feminist, Asian and Caribbean theologies.  Perhaps some of you reggae fans can recall the words to Bob Marley’s hit song “Exodus,” which is a song grounded in Liberation Theology.  Yes, although it might not look like it at first glance, Rastafarians and I share a lot in common—theologically and politically.  For those who don’t know who Rastafarians are, think “dread locks” and Jamaica.

Despite some of the variations between adherents of Liberation Theology, all who embrace this approach believe in what is called “preferential treatment of the poor.”  The poor, you see, often have a different vision for society than what the middle and upper class people do.  Liberation Theologians argue that if we are ever going to be successful in building a just and equitable society, we need to start actively listening to the poor and powerless among us. This might explain to some of you why it is that I spend so much time with homeless people.  My relationship with marginalized people provides me with some of my greatest spiritual insights.

Now in the days of the Exodus story, it was the Israelite slaves who were the poor and powerless in Egyptian society. And it was Moses, a man of privilege and of Egyptian heritage, who was sent by Yahweh (the Jewish name for God) to help lead the Israelites out of captivity and into the Promised Land.

Throughout their journey, it is said that Yahweh passed many miracles to aid the Israelites. After parting the Red Sea and destroying the Egyptian army who were in pursuit of the escaped slaves, Yahweh manifested Himself as a cloud in the daytime and a pillar of fire by night. When the cloud moved, the Israelites followed, and when it stopped, they rested. 

At a time when it seemed that the Israelites would die of starvation, Yahweh responded to their cries and rained down manna and quail for their consumption.   When it seemed that the Israelites would perish from lack of water, Yahweh instructed Moses to strike a rock and water flowed freely for the Israelites to drink.  Later on in the story, when the Israelites were attacked by warring tribes, the Israelites prevailed as long as Moses held up his hands in praise of Yahweh.  So time and time again, Yahweh demonstrated his love and concern for the fleeing captives as they slowly plodded toward the land of Canaan.

But that’s not to say that the Israelites had it easy.  Even with all of this Divine intervention, the Israelites suffered greatly during their 40 years of wandering in the wilderness. At times they felt that Yahweh was ignoring them and they worried that they or their children might die.  The book of Exodus says they quarreled and grumbled a lot. They complained and questioned Moses’ ability to lead them toward their destination. At times the situation was so desperate, in fact, that some of them began to long for their former lives as slaves.   For at least back in Egypt they had a regular source of food, water and shelter.

Eventually, however, the Israelites crossed the Jordan River and entered the Promised Land, a land of milk and honey.  And the story has been inspiring oppressed people ever since.  Why is this?  What does this story offer to non-Jews living in modern times?  Let’s look a little deeper into the story.

Moses led his people out of the slavery, exploitation, and alienation of Egypt so that they might inhabit a land where they could live with dignity.  And this is what we all want, is it not it: to be able to live with human dignity?  I find it no coincidence that the homeless camp out by the airport is called Dignity Village.

This story reminds us that the Divine is present even when we feel ignored. We are not alone when we are lost and suffering.  We need community to get us through our wilderness experiences: a community that shares our spiritual goals and whose members understand our pain.  Is this not why we come to church, even on this beautiful Labor Day weekend?   We need each other. 

In Latin America it was the Catholic Church—from which Liberation Theology originally emerged—that kept the hopes of the people alive.  At one time, in fact, the Catholic Church was the sole remaining agent of social change in Latin America.  Every other social change organization was wiped out by totalitarian governments.  So it was ultimately the people of shared faith and conviction who were able to prevail under such horrendous conditions.  I know that many people here look to this church for the same reason during this time of growing conflict, despair and injustice.

According to Black Liberation Theologian Dwight Hopkins, the story of the Exodus is especially powerful to black people because it features an oppressed people who:

·        suffered at the hands of brutal taskmasters;

·        were pursued by forces of prejudice;

·        who dwelled in the midst of a long wilderness experience;

·        who went through periods of anxiety, fear, and doubt about the            future—at times even longing for a return to their former status             as slaves in an inhuman system; and

·        who quarreled with their leaders while doggedly continuing along           the way to freedom.

You can see how each element of this story could have deep resonance for black people in this country.   And since August 28 was the 40^th Anniversary of the Freedom March with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech, let’s focus for a moment on the relevance of the Exodus story for African-American Christians in particular.  According to several books I read, no biblical text has been more central to African-Americans’ struggle for freedom than Exodus. This ancient story in which Yahweh  “chooses” slaves, sets them free, and gives them a land of their own became both their hope and their goal in life. 

From its inception, Christianity among African slaves was absolutely centered on freedom. Much of the preaching was done in secret at nighttime meetings in secluded rural areas. During these meetings, slaves were momentarily free from the control of white preachers and plantation owners. By recalling the struggles of Moses, the trials and tribulations of the Israelites and their eventual entry into Canaan, the slaves were sustained in their daily toils. They were given hope for redemption and a radically different future. The Jordan River, in fact, came to symbolize the boundary between slavery and freedom.  Canaan, the Promised Land, was freedom itself (Albert J. Raboteau, Slave Religion: The "Invisible Institution" in the Antebellum South, p. 232-235).

This metaphorical imagery is reflected clearly in many of the Spirituals that are still sung today, such as: “I looked over Jordan, and what did I see...,” or “O Canaan, sweet Canaan, I am bound for the land of Canaan...”and “I’ll meet you in de mornin’, When you reach de promised land.”  Although this is religious imagery, it also stood for very worldly realities. Black Liberation Theologian James Cone explains that many of these songs even held codes for those escaping slavery. The Jordan River, for example, was a code for the Ohio River. The “other side” was the North and then Canada, the Promised Land of Freedom.  “Go Down, Moses”—which we all sang this morning—tells the whole liberation story and continues to offer a great message of hope for the oppressed.

The Exodus story has also been relevant to the civil rights and feminists movements, the Jewish experiences of the Holocaust, the struggle of South-Africans to end Apartheid and the end of colonial rule in India.  The story of the exodus is powerful and applicable to so many because it is an archetype—an experience that has repeated itself over and over again in history.  As Carl Jung would say, its symbols are part of our collective unconscious. 

The story of the Hebrew slaves being delivered by Yahweh can be interpreted to represent freedom from spiritual, political or psychological constraints as well. One of the meanings of the Hebrew word for Egypt (mitsrayim), is “place of constriction” (The Women’s Bible Commentary, p. 27).  It is therefore possible to view the Exodus as metaphorically describing a process of spiritual or psychological empowerment.  Like leaving an unhealthy relationship or quitting a job that makes you crazy.  I, for one, have wanted to be minister since I was fifteen years old.  I’m 43 now and am finally in seminary.  I wandered a very long time before I found my Promised Land—which is being here with all of you, doing community ministry in a Unitarian Universalist setting.  You are my milk and honey and I thank the Divine One for leading me here!  That’s for sure!

But whether one’s liberation is from an oppressive group of people or an oppressive state of mind, it is important to remember that liberation is rarely easy, painless or quick.  Neither is it merely a flight from nor reaction to oppressive circumstances.   Rather, liberation involves death and rebirth, sorrow and joy, destruction and creation—on God’s timeline, not ours.

I believe that when it comes to life, it is not a question of if we will find ourselves in the wilderness, but only when. And like Moses, there are times when we have little idea about the direction we are heading.  If we are depending upon what we are carrying through life, or if we expect to encounter only those crises for which we have prepared, then it is only a matter of time before—like the Israelites—our personal provisions begin to dry up.  The Israelites learned that they couldn’t survive with human ingenuity alone. They needed each other and they needed to connect with and be guided by Yahweh.  What we learn from their story is that relationship to each other and to the Holy, is the ultimate salvation for all of us.

I believe that if we hope to get to the place where God is leading us—or Brahman or Buddha or Tao, or whatever your term for what guides you spiritually—we must summon the courage to break free from our constraints and venture into the wilderness.  For it is in wandering that we discover the true depth of our trust in whatever we consider Divine. And, just like the Israelites, it is in our grumbling and thirsting that we are most receptive to learning from and listening to all that is Holy to us. 

Like the slave Spirituals that are still sung in churches today, Exodus gives us a living history with a living message about freedom that will long be relevant.  I hope that you, like so many across both the globe and the generations, will take heart from its message when you feel you need it.  And may you, by reflecting upon your own need for freedom, summon the courage to be free.

PRAYER

Holy One,

There are times, when life is going smoothly, when we give you nary a thought. 

Yet you are there.

Then there are those times when tragedy strikes and we feel totally unequipped to deal with our pain and suffering.

And still you are there.

Help open our eyes to your presence in the faces around us,

Help guide us through our wilderness so that we may reach the Promised Land where people are judged by the character of their soul and not by the color of their skin

And where all may experience dignity, community, justice and love.

Let Freedom Ring!  Amen.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  Copyrights 2003, Kate Lore, Social Justice Director.  All rights reserved.