Deuteronomy 31:7-8 (+7:7-8;
8:2-3, 7-8, 11-15)
“Any Final Words, Moses?
Moses
was old and about to die. He knew
it. The people knew it. Everyone knew it. Having delivered his people from slavery and
having led them in the wilderness for forty years, Moses would not be the one
to take them into the Promised Land. That
would fall to Pastor Patty--oops, I mean to Joshua. But before Moses climbed up Mt. Nebo to look
out over the Promised Land and then lie down with his ancestors, they set up a
microphone on a plain in Moab, and someone asked, ”Any final words, Moses?”
“Well,”
Moses began, “unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, I suppose there are a
few things I could say.” And he stepped
up to the microphone, and the people thought they might all die before he quit talking! He began by reminding them of how he had put
in place among them leaders of various kinds.
They said, “Thank you for that, Moses.
And now we’d like to make a little presentation to you . . .” But he was still talking. He reminded them of how they’d been too
scared to enter the Promised Land the first time they came to it. “Yes,” they agreed, “there’s a good lesson in
that, Moses. Now we have a little plaque
for you . . .” But Moses was still
talking—repeating the Ten Commandments, warning them not to forget God in
better times, and so forth and so on.
Moses talked for the entire book of Deuteronomy. In my small-print Bible, he talked for 33
pages, almost 27,000 words.
Old
Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann has said that he always found this
literary premise of the book of Deuteronomy to be rather unconvincing, almost
silly. I mean, who in their right mind
would take for that long? Brueggemann
thought that, he said, until his first child went off to college. And suddenly it all made sense. Who would talk for that long? Why anyone who had loved someone a long time,
taught them, disciplined them, worried about them, prayed for them, and then
has to let go of them, for whatever reason.
As we dropped her off in front of that dormitory, Brueggemann said, I
could think of a million final things to say:
--You
have a roommate now. Don’t leave clothes
all over the floor.
--Remember
all the good times we had when you were little? Remember how awful it was when you were a
young teenager? And now that we get along
again, you’re leaving
--Here’s
$100 in case of emergency. Don’t even
think about spending it on beer!
--Write
me. No wait, that’s when I was in
college. Call me. No, that’s still not it. Instant message me!
--And
oh, sweet daughter, remember who you are, okay?
Well,
I’m not so grandiose as to compare myself to Moses. (Am I?)
And I don’t even want to think
about my daughters going off to college.
But as I preach here for the last time, I can think of a million final
things to say:
--Now,
when you tell Bible stories at Summer Youth Program, here’s the way it’s done .
. .
--Whether
you make any money or not, will you promise to be nice to one another during
the Fair?
--There’s
one toilet at the parsonage that you have to jiggle the handle like this . . .
--It’s
still the Year of Invitation. Get out
those tool kits!
--And
oh, dear Maynard church, don’t forget who you are, okay?
Today’s
selected readings from Moses’ lengthy farewell speech do lead me to a few—let’s
say four—real final words.
1)
First, in chapter 7 Moses tells
I
believe that in its own way
2)
Why didn’t Moses get to lead the people into the Promised Land? It seems a little unfair, doesn’t it? He’d spent all those years delivering them
from slavery, getting them through the wilderness, teaching them not to be so
scared. And here they are, just across
the river from the Promised Land, and he doesn’t get to take them in. Why not?
The
book of Numbers says it was because one time Moses failed to trust fully in
God. He was supposed just to command a
rock to bring forth water in the desert; instead he felt the need to strike the
rock twice with his staff. And for that
one slip, Numbers says, Moses didn’t get to enter the Promised Land. I never liked that answer.
Deuteronomy
claims that God was mad at Moses because the people wouldn’t listen to God.
That may be a little unfair, but it’s true to life. Leaders often get far too much credit when their
people do well, but they can also get too much blame when their people don’t do
so well. But either way, leaders are
identified with their people, and not entering the land was just part of the
package for Moses.
But
I wonder, in the long run, if it wasn’t actually better for the people to enter
the land without Moses. That way they
had to learn they could do it, and that other people could lead. Even though they’d be forever grateful to
Moses, they found out they didn’t have to have Moses to win battles and be
bold. Moses exits stage right, but the
play goes on.
3)
And what is this Promised Land they’d been journeying toward anyway? Well, for
The
Promised Land, of course, is not an easy place to get to. Forty years were barely preparation
enough. And once there, it proved a hard
place to hang on to—the original conquest was bloody and grueling, then came
the Babylonian exile, the return from exile, then the Romans. The Promised Land is a precarious place.
What,
I wonder, would be the Promised Land for a congregation? Having another 50 people in worship? Another $20,000? Those things would be nice, of course. But how about another 50 people and an
additional $20,000? There’s no end to
that game.
Ah,
but how about a summer program where children of various races and backgrounds
learn Bible stories and academics? How
about being able to say right out loud that God’s gay/lesbian/bisexual/
transgender people are welcomed and affirmed in this place? How about really learning to love, support and
yes, even forgive one another in Jesus’ name?
What’s that you say? We already
do those things? Well, I’ll be
darned. Maybe we took possession of a
corner of the Promised Land and never noticed.
One
of my favorite poets, the Kansan William Stafford, wrote a poem about dying
called “Toward the End.” Here are the
last few lines:
Suddenly
this moment is worth all the rest.
Never
has the sweetness arched so near
and
overwhelming. They say a green flash
comes
if you are lucky right at the end.
Now
you see it was always there.
Sure,
there’s work to do—goals to live in to and budgets to meet and new dreams to
reach for. But never forget, the
Promised Land, the green flash, is always here.
It may take gospel glasses to see it, but it’s always here.
4) And
finally, right at the end, Moses commissions Joshua to take the people on the
next part of the journey. And this
commissioning consists of both a command and a promise. First, the command. Moses says, “Be strong and bold, for you are
the one who will go with this people . . .”
I suspect that felt pretty heavy, no small burden. But then the promise. Moses went on, “It is the Lord who goes
before you; he will be with you; he will not fail you or forsake you.” And in light of the promise, Moses can return
to command: “Therefore, do not fear or
be dismayed.”
Now
I know that someone is coming to provide leadership for you. And it is my fervent prayer that you will
love Patty and Rose as you have loved my family and me, and it is my strong
desire that you will work alongside her as you have worked alongside me all
these years. But today, I’d like to
commission all of you, a whole
sanctuary of Joshuas, for the next part of your journey. And the commissioning consists of both a
command and a promise. First, the
commands: Be strong and bold, my
friends, for you are the ones who will go for this congregation . . . Do not fear or be dismayed.” And why not?
Because of the promise: “It is
the Lord who goes before you. He will be
with you, and he never failed you yet!”
And
that, most assuredly, is the final word.