2017-09-11
Brooke Strong
Before reading today’s passage from the Old Testament, I want to set it in context. A few weeks ago, we heard the story of how Joseph, son of Jacob, got from Israel to Egypt when his brothers sold him into slavery. There, through dream prediction, Joseph foresaw 7 years of famine in the region, and was enlisted to take charge of preparing the country for this disaster. When his brothers came to Egypt for food during that famine, they were reunited as a family, and ended up settling in this foreign land. As the generations went by, they multiplied, and when a new leader of Egypt arose, who did not know of Joseph, he became alarmed at how many Israelites there were now living in his country. So, he made them slaves, thinking this hard work would kill them, and reduce their number. But they multiplied still. In desperation, this Pharaoh ordered that all newborn Hebrew males must be killed upon birth.
When a baby boy was born to a certain Hebrew woman, she hid him successfully in a papyrus basket to keep him from this terrible fate. She floated him in a river daily, while his sister watched him. One day, who should spot this child but Pharaoh’s own daughter, who took him in, and gave him the Egyptian name MOSES. Moses grew up with all the privileges of a member of Pharaoh’s household. In his young adulthood, he one day witnessed a Hebrew slave being beaten by an Egyptian. He rose to that man’s defense, and murdered the Egyptian. He was then forced to flee the country, running to the desert as a fugitive, then marrying and becoming a sheepherder for his father in law.
Meanwhile, back in Egypt, the Israelites groaned under their slavery, and cried out. God heard them, and took notice of them.
So here we take up the story in today’s lectionary reading:
At a celebration dinner the evening before my ordination about three years ago, my husband said our guests, “When I first started dating Susi, she told me that she had had a grandfather who was a minister, an uncle who was a minister, a couple of cousins who were ministers, and I told her I could never be married to a minister.” The very next day, the day of my ordination, he was made a liar. For he is, indeed, married to a minister. But, in fairness, 34 years ago, on the day we got married, on Labor Day weekend in fact, I had no idea that I would ever become a minister. That day, I was only concerned with my name and title change – from Cicconi to Kawolics, from Miss to Mrs.
I think that this is similar to what happens to many of us. As we journey through life, we develop and acquire new names, new titles, new ways of seeing ourselves and of others seeing us. Sometimes it’s planned. I had always hoped to be married, so the occasion of my wedding did not come as a surprise to me. But other times, our changes in life can surprise us. We can be caught unawares at a calling that burns in our hearts, that we may never have been aware of, never have considered, never have expected, like the call to ministry was for me.
This same sort of thing happens to Moses. He is called by God to do something unexpected, to go somewhere uncharted, to receive a whole new identity, to become someone he had never imagined or dreamed of being. He had been born an Israelite, someone who was supposed to have been killed before he even had a chance to live. Yet through his mother’s bravery, his sister’s cunning, and the Pharaoh’s daughter’s compassion, he ended up becoming royalty. On a fateful day years later, he became a defender against injustice, a murderer, and a fugitive. He then began a new life as sheep-herder of his father-in-law’s flock. And God was not finished with him yet.
When he was named Moses by the princess, a name that means “draw out,” for he was drawn out of the water, Moses had no idea how fateful that name would be. He had no clue that someday he would be the one to draw the Hebrew people out of Egypt. Moses had simply been going about his daily ordinary work when he had an extraordinary encounter with God. In this well-known story, God gets Moses’ attention through a burning bush that is not consumed by its fire, and then God reveals to Moses a future for himself that he would never have imagined. No longer will he be Moses, the shepherd of the sheep, but he will become Moses, the shepherd of the Israelites.
When God speaks to Moses, telling him what God has planned, Moses is understandably mystified and terrified by this encounter with God. His questions are basically, “Who am I, a mere sheepherder, to become a leader of people? Who am I, one who is slow of speech and slow of tongue, to speak truth to power? Who am I, a fugitive, wanted by the law, to go back to Egypt and to lead the Israelites to freedom?” Who am I?
God, ever mysterious, ever enigmatic, doesn’t answer that question directly. Instead, God simply says, “I will be with you.” And then Moses turns his original question around – instead of asking “Who am I” – he asks “Who are you?” He asks “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is the name of that God?’ what shall I say to them?”
And here’s how God answers: “I AM WHO I AM.” Tell them - ‘I AM has sent me to you.’”
I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure if I’d been in Moses’ shoes, or rather his bare feet, that this answer would have given me any confidence in answering God’s call. And yet, that’s the assurance God gave to Moses, and it’s the assurance God gives to all of us. It’s the assurance of God’s presence, not only when we’re facing something daunting, difficult, or desperate, but also when we’re just going along in the daily ordinariness of our lives.
The name “I am who I am,” the title God reveals, is the translation of the Hebrew letters YHWH. This is the name the Israelites used for God – but one that, because it contained no vowels, could never be spoken aloud. The Jewish people considered this name for God to be so sacred that they dared not utter it. Later, vowels were added, and that name became Yahweh, or Jehovah. This is probably a name we are familiar with, but most likely not a name we are used to using for God. I would guess that most of us calling to God would not begin our prayer with the word “Yahweh” or “Jehovah.” I know at least I wouldn’t. That name Yahweh was just a name I knew of, but it never held much meaning for me, until a few years ago.
I was pastor at another church, and I was preparing to lead a Lenten program based on a short video called “Breathe.” Produced by Reverend Rob Bell through his Nooma series, this particular DVD gave me a fascinating insight into this name for God. Bell talked about the word Yahweh – the four letter Hebrew combination of Y,H,V,H. Those letters are pronounced: “Yod, Heh, Vav, Heh.” He said that some believe that the reason for this particular combination of letters as the name of God is that these are the sounds made by breathing. “Yod, Heh, Vav, Heh, “Yod, Heh, Vav, Heh . . . 1 So while God’s name YHVH is a name so sacred that it was not to be spoken allowed, it is at the same time a name so intimate as to be made audible with every breath we take.
God, the “I am who I am,” the Yod Heh Vay Heh - is in every breath we take. It was this God, this ever present, closer than breathing God, who promised to be with Moses in every breath, every moment, every step in his seemingly impossible calling. It is through this energizing, vitalizing, breathing presence of God that we also live into who God calls us to be.
The scientific word for our breathing, for the system in our body that keeps us alive through the inhalation and exhalation of air is the word respiration, and the respiratory system. I love that these words have at their root the Latin spirare – also the root of the word “inspire” or the word “spirit.” It is indeed the spirit of God that moves and breathes, that respires in us constantly, that inspires us in our living.
So when God answers Moses saying God’s name is “I am who am” or “YHVH – Yod, Heh, Vav, Heh” – that is actually the fullest, the most accurate name for God. Edward Markquart, the pastor of Grace Lutheran Church, Seattle says, “You cannot lock God into “I am father.” You cannot lock God into “I am mother.” You cannot lock God into anything because God is essentially mysterious, the ground of all that is. What is the message of Yahweh’s name? God’s name is a verb. . . . God’s name is not I but AM, not a noun but a verb. God is action, movement. God is moving throughout the universe. God is never stationary. God is never still. For God is energy itself…”2
Because God is in our very breath, God is with us always. God is that presence, that energy, who becomes what we need. When we are just shepherding our way through our daily tasks, God says, “I am companion, I am friend, I am abiding love.” When we are lost in a desert of desperation, loneliness or hurt, God says, “I am support, I am solace, I am comfort.” When we are discerning a burning question for our future, God says, “I am vision. I am wisdom. I am guidance.” No matter where we are on life’s journey, no matter where we travel, we are always on holy ground, because God, the very ground of our being, is there.
Today, as we gather around this table, we are reminded of that God, that “I am,” who gives us the strength, grace, encouragement to live fully into who we are now, and into who we are created to become. And we remember that Jesus, God’s child, proclaimed “I am the bread of life.” Let us break bread and take nourishment from this meal, from our God who promises to be closer to us than our own breathing, in every step of our journey, wherever that journey may lead. Amen.
1Breathe 014. Dir. Rob Bell, NOOMA, Flannel, 2006. DVD
2http://www.sermonsfromseattle.com/series_c_the_name_of_god.htm