A devouring fire --The glory of the Lord on the mountain

“To the watching Israelites, the glory of the Lord looked like a
devouring fire on the mountain top. Moses went right into
the cloud and on up the mountain. Moses stayed on the
mountain for forty days and forty nights.” --Exodus 24:17

A devouring fire? What could that mean? And why does the author say that it looked like a devouring fire to those watching? For me, I hear in this at least two meanings that speak to my life. First, there is the fact that “the glory of the Lord” may look to the world like a devouring fire, and our desire to walk toward it may look like foolishness to some and the sight of it may be a fearful stumbling block to others (cf. 1 Corinthians 1:23). The glory of the Lord is not for the faint hearted, one might say. But, if we pay attention to the context of this part of Exodus we know that what looks like a “devouring fire” to the watching Israelites, is --in actuality-- the glory of God. And Moses is not harmed by it. Not a hair of his head.

But, on the other hand, the glory of God truly is –I’m certain-- a devouring fire, though one we should not fear, but should rejoice in. As St. Peter tells us in his first letter, “In this you may rejoice, though, for a time, you must bear all sorts of trials; so that the worth of your faith, more precious than gold, which perishes even if it has been tested by fire, may be proven…” (cf. 1 Peter 1:7).

So what is being devoured when we walk into the glory of the Lord? Into God’s devouring fire? I suspect it is our ego, our pride, our sin –the dross that clings to us. For me, it is –it must be—the “I wants,” that still cling to me and that I too often cling to and clutch at so desperately. I want to be successful. I want to be honored. I want to be loved. I want to be comfortable. I want to be prosperous. I want to be free of sickness. I want a Beck’s Prime veggie burger and a ½ pound of fries with a large Vanilla malted! And a bag of popcorn and a root beer and a new pair of sneakers and cats that don’t tear up the house and a car that never needs repairs and…. And one of those drinks with the little pink umbrellas… and that paddle ball thing, too. I want that, too!

And yet, still, I wonder: what is the devouring fire in my own life? Is it the difficulties I’ve had at work? Loss of autonomy? Changes that feel like trials? Or is it my loss of the diaconate? The humbling trial of being told I wasn’t called to this vocation that I had begun to identify with so intimately… I felt devoured after the meeting when I was told I was being dropped from the program. I felt devoured and spit out. And for almost two years now I have had to humble myself and accept it, and try to hold onto my faith, my love of God, my commitment to His church and to do His will. And it has been hard. It has been painful. It has felt –at times—quite fearful and quite foolish. I have been asked, why I don’t just change religions or join another church? Why don’t I become a Methodist (for instance) and then I can be a minister and have my own church –if I want! And yet, I have remained. I have remained where God has lead me and I wait upon the Lord. I wait within the devouring fire of his glory –trusting that in His glory, I will not be harmed –only tested and made stronger. I am also learning that forty days and forty nights is “God speak” for “this may take a while.”

Ask yourself: what is the devouring fire in your life? Where is God calling you to something hard, to do something painful, something humbling, something that requires you to let go of your wants, your plans, your very self and be more fully dependent on Him? More fully His? Is your devouring fire a troubled relationship that you must humble yourself to mend? Is it a difficulty at work that requires you to let go of some power or some position you worked hard to achieve? Is it a longing for popularity or glory that you can’t let go of? Is there a hurt you must let go of? A disappointment? A loss? A loneliness you cannot fathom?

Do not be afraid to enter into the glory of the Lord, even though it looks to all the world like a devouring fire; as the great poet Jane Kenyon once wrote: God does not leave us comfortless… Whether God calls you up the mountain, or He calls you to come to Him walking on the water –accept His invitation. Go to Him. Do not be afraid. God is waiting; in what looks like a devouring fire, He is waiting just for you.

“Do not stand back…” On duties towards our enemies & walking on water

“If you come upon your enemy’s ox straying, you
will take it back to him. If you see the donkey of
someone who hates you fallen under its load, do not
stand back; you must go and help him with it.”
–Exodus 22:4-5

There is a wonderful connection between this morning’s Gospel –Peter walking on the water (Mt 14: 22-33) and what I am reading in Exodus these days. In Exodus, I have just reached the part where God gives the people the ten commandments, and then He has Moses flesh them out with specific instances and examples. And in the midst of discussions of stealing and treatment of slaves and orphans and keeping the Sabbath, I came upon this: duties towards enemies. First, I was simply delighted by the oddness of such a thing: obligations or duties toward people who hate us. That kind of teaching seemed quite appropriate for this morning –with the news of the protests and killing in Charlottesville yesterday. As a country we need to realize that we even have obligations and duties towards those who hate us, even those who might call us an enemy.

And then at church this morning I heard the Gospel about Peter trying to walk on the water, and I was struck by these words:

“Jesus said to them: Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.
And Peter said to Him: Lord, if it is You, command
me to come to you on the water. Jesus said: Come.”
–Matthew 14:27b-29a

I felt immediately that there was a wondrous connection between these two seemingly unrelated passages. It felt like God was actually speaking to me, but that He needed me to wake up early this morning and read that chapter from Exodus before I went to mass and heard that Gospel from Matthew. And only then, only together would they form the message I was supposed to hear.

What is God asking of us in Exodus? He is asking us to go somewhere unnatural, somewhere we are too often certain we cannot go. He is asking us to –in a sense—walk on water. To treat our enemies with kindness, and compassion. We are called to “not stand back” but to go toward those who hate us, and to help them when they are in need. That can seem not only foolish, but reckless and even dangerous. Like trying to walk on water. But that is what God is calling us to do.

And yet when we are stepping out of our safety zone, our boat, onto the waves, what do we hear? “Do not be afraid. It is I…” When we step out of our boat (our comfort zone) and onto the waves –into the unknow—and reach out our hand to help those in need (even –perhaps especially-- our enemies), we must remember that in truth it is always Jesus we serve. It is always Christ who waits for us in the needy and the poor, and perhaps even in our enemies.

So don’t be afraid. And don’t stand back. When you see someone in need, get out of your boat and step onto the waves. You may look crazy, and yes --there is always some risk. But, take courage. It is Jesus we go to meet. It is Jesus we are walking toward. It is Jesus who calls to us: Come.

Struggling with strange passages: Reading with four-fold eyes

“But the Lord made Pharaoh stubborn,

And he refused to let them [Israel] go.”

–Exodus 10:27

When dealing with difficult scripture passages, one of the approaches that has been used since almost the beginning of Christianity is to read it in what is sometimes called the four-fold method.  This method seeks meaning in scripture on more than one level. It looks at a passage and seeks one (or more) of four different meanings in the passage: literal, allegorical, moral & anagogical.  Here is a clear demonstration of this method offered by Dante (in a letter describing how his Divine Comedy should be read).

“A first sense derives from the letters themselves, and a second from the things signified by the letters. We call the first sense "literal" sense, the second the "allegorical", or "moral" or "anagogical". To clarify this method of treatment, consider this verse: When Israel went out of Egypt, the house of Jacob from a barbarous people: Judea was made his sanctuary, Israel his dominion (Psalm 113). Now if we examine the letters alone, the exodus of the children of Israel from Egypt in the time of Moses is signified; in the allegory, our redemption accomplished through Christ; in the moral sense, the conversion of the soul from the grief and misery of sin to the state of grace; in the anagogical sense, the exodus of the holy soul from slavery of this corruption to the freedom of eternal glory. they can all be called allegorical.”

With this in mind, I was wondering: how would this method help me in my reading of Exodus? Especially those troubling passages about God and Pharaoh; i.e. how does Pharaoh’s hardened heart look when read through this lens?

“But the Lord made Pharaoh stubborn,

And he refused to let them [Israel] go.”

–Exodus 10:27

How would one apply the four-fold method to reading this passage?  Literal, allegorical, moral, anagogical? 

So –let’s put it to the test:

                Literally, the Pharaoh was obstinate and would not let the Israelites leave –but what is the lesson we are to learn from this literal reading?  Is it that God bestows his mercy and love as He will and thus Pharaoh –in his sinfulness and ignorance—became even more obstinate simply because God’s grace did not or was not opened to him? Possibly because Pharaoh wasn’t open to it, or possibly because God chose not to open Pharaoh’s heart. However, a lesson we might learn from this literal reading is this: we cannot know God’s will or God’s plan and so perhaps we shouldn’t be judging anyone; not even the Pharaoh or his hardened heart.

Allegorically, Pharaoh is sin and sin often becomes even more obstinate when confronted. Thus we might read into this scene a vision of the Israelites lost in sin (Egypt) and under the control of sin (Pharaoh)— and when God sends help and sin is confronted by God’s message the sinful heart hardens; it grows more obstinate and the sinner appears to fall even more powerfully under sin’s control.

Morally, we see perhaps this: when we confront our sin (or confront sinners), sin may become more emboldened and obstinate; temptations and sinful behaviors may become more present and feel more powerfully in control –refusing to let us go.  And we, slaves to sin, may feel more helpless and unable to escape. But, we must not lose hope. This too may be part of God’s plan.

Anagogical: We are completely in God’s hands –at His mercy—and must put our hope in Him –in His mercy –even when our sin refuses to leave us, even when we feel unable to escape its hold—we must put our hope, our faith, our trust in the mercy of God.  That is our only way –that is the only road out of Egypt, and it  passes right through Calvary.

Yes—for me this is a troubling passage. But troubling isn’t bad. Most of the time, I’m learning, troubling means God is asking me to slow down and pay a little more attention.

Pharaoh’s hardened heart: Another look

“[the Egyptians]…whose hearts He turned to hate His own people,

To treat His servants deceitfully…”

--Psalm 105:25

Psalm 105 is a brief history of ancient Israel, with several verses on the exile and Exodus story.  And in it we come again upon this idea of God making someone obstinate or hateful –for some purpose known only to God. In this image from the Psalm we see God paradoxically turning the hearts of Pharaoh and the Egyptians against His own beloved people. In some unspoken way this turning of the enemy's heart to obstinacy and hate and deceit is presented as necessary for the fulfillment of God's plan; it seems somehow essential for the building up of Israel.  God makes Pharaoh’s heart hard and obstinate, against Pharaoh’s own good and the good of the Egyptians. And God does this (it seems) so that Israel’s ultimate victory can somehow be recognized as even more astonishing; more miraculous.  Israel overcomes her foes who are powerful, obstinately bad, persisting in evil, and who  far outnumber her –but who, in the end, are defeated through God’s miraculous intercession.

But I am left pondering: How is the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart necessary to God’s plan?  Even if this is just a myth (or hyperbole), why did the ancient story teller feel it necessary to put it in these terms? What lesson was God imparting by having His scribes write His story in this way?  If (for instance) God’s hardening of Pharaoh’s heart is a metaphor –then what is it a metaphor of? And what lesson (or insight) was it supposed to teach? What psychological (or spiritual) insight was it intended to reveal?

1.       That God is willful and can do whatever He likes?  Even make our hearts hard and turn our ways to deceit? Sin?  -OR

2.       That God’s plan, the work of a loving God, may even be found in the hardened heart and deceitful ways of our foe…

And, in the end, the key question is: What does a loving God accomplish by changing the hearts of Pharaoh, the Egyptians, all of Israel’s foes “so that they hate His own people?” What is it that He accomplishes through this hardened heart that He couldn’t accomplish otherwise? Why didn’t He change their hearts so that they loved His people?  What part does this hardening of the heart play in God’s plan?  How does it reveal His loving presence?  Those are the questions, the paradox, I am pondering these days. 

Next I want to spend a little time considering this passage, this image, through the lens of the four-fold method; seeking in it the four levels of reading: literal, allegorical, moral & anagogical.