Exodus 3.1-15, Matthew 16.21-28
The Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity, 3 September 2023, Eldroth (Harvest), Clapham
God said to Moses, ’Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.’
Now, Moses was a shepherd, and it’s likely that until that moment he’d only ever thought of Mount Horeb - the place where he was standing - as a hot and dusty hillside where he drove the flock of his father-in-law Jethro. Just hot and dusty ground, not holy ground.
Moses was also a Hebrew, a people who had come to Egypt as refugees from famine, and who were being treated increasingly poorly by their hosts. In Egypt, the Hebrews were driven by callous taskmasters into relentlessly brutal work. Moses was actually on the run, having killed an Egyptian slave-master who was beating a Hebrew. Ground down in a hostile environment: for the Hebrews Egypt was not a holy ground.
But God said to Moses, ‘Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.’
And Moses, his face burning in the heat of the bush on fire before him, had his eyes opened to why that moment, in that place, was indeed holy:
For on that dry and dusty earth, God revealed himself to Moses the shepherd as the God of his father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.
For in that place of Egyptian oppression, God disclosed to Moses the fugitive how he had seen the misery of the enslaved Hebrews, heard their cry on account of their taskmasters, and knew their sufferings.
And in that place of Hebrew captivity, God made a solemn promise to Moses: that He would deliver the Hebrews from the Egyptians, and bring them up out of the land of their oppression to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey.
Dusty old Mount Horeb became holy to Moses because it was where, in that moment, he encountered God; and learned that God had chosen not the powerful, privileged Egyptians but the poor, enslaved Hebrews, to walk alongside in their journey through this world. Through their promised coming journey together God would reveal His ways to all of humankind.
In that moment of encounter Mount Horeb transformed, for Moses, into a place where he and his people would return time after time to praise God and renew their path through life with Him.
Now we might stop a moment here and ask ourselves, do we have a place - or places - which we would call ‘holy’? Or if not ‘holy’ then maybe ‘special’, ‘important’ places where we love to be, because in those places we always seem to meet the divine; those places where we are lifted, where we are strengthened, where we find solace or perspective on our troubles, where we find hope and promise for our onward journey?
Sometimes these are the most mundane places: a tatty old kitchen chair, an unkempt garden, a muddy field. Perhaps more often our special, holy places are beautiful, whether out in the open or buildings like this where, to quote T.S. Eliot, ‘prayer has been valid’ for many years, and we can feel it in ourselves, in this place. [1]
If you look at the picture of Mount Horeb it looks like quite an ugly place, rather desolate and forbidding. Which underlines a truth we might already cherish: that God is to be found, even in such places. Maybe especially in such places.
Which I hope is good news for today’s refugee people abandoned to live under canvas in vast camps in border territories - where, we pray, they may know that God sees their misery;
I hope it is good news for those who are caught up in modern slavery forced by today’s taskmasters into harsh labour in forbidding and dangerous workplaces - where, we pray, they may understand that God hears their cries;
I hope it’s good news for those being trafficked by the most dangerous means, in airless metal containers or patched-up dinghies - where, we pray, they may be certain that God knows their sufferings.
The Exodus from Egypt shows God coming close to a particular people to lead them on a journey from trouble to serenity. It plays an important part in the unfolding story of scripture through which the particular becomes universal, as first through Israel and then through Christ we learn that God loves and values all peoples and indeed all things, meaning that, in an important sense, everybody is holy and everything is holy: because God meets with all created beings in relationships rooted in divine order, gift, grace and love. This insight is the foundation of everything we celebrate and affirm at Harvest.
For if we accept that everybody is holy and everything is holy, then we can be confident that God is invested in us all, human and non-human alike; and we might pray that God will reveal to us how we can immerse ourselves more richly in this reciprocal world of care he has created. With the refugees, the enslaved and trafficked ones. With our neighbours, and with the creatures, and with the very soil beneath our feet.
When you pray, I imagine that like me, you might usually sit or kneel, close your eyes, and bow your head. Here’s a challenge directly from Mount Horeb. In the coming days, just once, rather than praying in the usual way, instead, take yourself to a place where you feel you can encounter God, whether inside or outside, whether in rain or sunshine; and stand; and remove your shoes. For the place on which you’ll be standing is holy ground.
Notes
[1] You are not here to verify,
Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity
Or carry report.
You are here to kneel
Where prayer has been valid.
- T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding.
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