|
Truth
be told, I’d go back to Egypt in a heartbeat. Where I’ve
been twice, dragging tourists behind me. I’ve descended into
the bowels of the pyramids, claustrophobic though I am,
singing in the darkened dungeon of that inner sanctum:
Go
down, Moses,
Way down in Egypt land.
Tell old Pharaoh,
Let my people go.
I’ve
kicked the stones of history in Luxor, traversing the Valley
of the Kings, and entering the tomb which holds (so I am told)
the remains of King Tut. I have also seen the Sphinx,
bargained in German to purchase a cartouche from an Egyptian,
danced with my wife in the rooftop lounge of the Ramses Hilton
(appropriately enough, to the tune of “As Time Goes By”),
and pooled my shekels with Dave Tenniswood to hire some guy
with a boat to take us and our wives on our own private cruise
on the Nile. I have bought perfume from the fragrance sellers
and a rug from the silk weavers. And next to London, I find
Cairo the most fascinating city in the world.
But
I went to Egypt with money, authority, legitimacy (thanks to
my passport) and, given that I was leading a tour that was
decidedly churchy, I suppose I went with divinity. I was not a
deportee, a starving immigrant or a peon forced into brick
making as a slave laborer. Nor was I a fourth generation child
of Abraham.
Biblical
history (which, in this early period, is as anecdotal as it is
analytical) recalls the Jewish saga. Which included a time in
Egypt that was horrific. So much so, that the cries of the
people reached God’s ears and melted God’s heart. So God
said to Moses (who had married well and was farming on “easy
street”): “Get ’em outta there.”
Which
Moses did, reluctantly but heroically….with a little bit of
creative oceanography lending a hand. One individual involved
in the Red Sea crossing was overheard to complain about the
ground being damper than expected. To which Moses is alleged
to have said: “I hear you, friend. But all things
considered, it strikes me as a rather petty complaint to raise
at a time like this.”
The
exit from Egypt has a name. It’s called “The Exodus.”
And it has a timetable. It’s numbered “forty years.”
Lots of things are numbered “forty” in the Bible. The
Bible is in love with certain numbers, “forty” being one
of them.
-
Forty
years in the wilderness for the Jews.
-
Forty
days in the wilderness for Jesus.
-
Forty
days (and forty nights) for the waters of the flood.
-
Forty
days between the resurrection and the ascension.
-
Forty
days for Moses on Mt. Sinai.
-
Forty
days for the reign of great Jewish kings (Saul, David,
Solomon and Joash).
-
Forty
years for cyclical periods of peace and oppression in the
book of Judges.
What
do we make of this? Not much, really. God neither initiates
nor is subject to laws of numerology. The number “forty”
(whether applied to days or years) is the Bible’s way of
saying “a long time”….or a long enough time for
something (or someone) to grow into maturity.
Just
this past week, I found myself wondering whether our comfort
level with the forty-hour work week or the forty-year career
might have some connection with the biblical status accorded
the number “forty.” But if anybody ever pondered that
question before, their thoughts never reached the internet.
Although I did find a therapist who argued that six-week
programs (forty days plus) are far more effective in the
treatment of drug and alcohol abuse than 28-day
programs….the latter being defined, not by treatment
facilities so much as insurance companies. And, thanks to the
Web, I also ran into the film critic that said that
“forties” are shorthand (in rap videos) for forty-ounce
bottles of malt liquor….which, themselves, represent the
attraction of the gangster subculture and the rejection (by
black youth) of law and religion. Which is why rap icons like
Dr. Dre, Ice Cube and Snoop Doggy Dogg (now there’s a name)
are frequently seen in commercials for malt liquor in
forty-ounce bottles.
Not
that the Jews had malt liquor in the wilderness. Water from
the rock, yes. Malt liquor, no. Though they did have
manna….which, depending upon where you turn in the Torah,
was either a miraculous product or a natural product. As food,
manna sufficed. But it wasn’t very tasty. What it was, was
daily….which was what was both good about it and bad about
it (if you know what I mean). You could count on it. But you
got tired of it.
“Give
us this day our daily bread,” we pray. But along about the
third day, I wouldn’t mind a little cake….or corned
beef….or even kohlrabi. At every college I visit, kids
complain about the food. Which, when I check it out, is
nutritious, tasty and plentiful. But they hate it. So whassup
with it? Or with them? Are they stupid? No. Spoiled? Maybe.
But what gets to them is the repetitive cycle with which it is
set before them. What they hate is “not this,” but “not
this again.”
Getting
back to our little story from the book of Numbers (and I’ll
admit I am taking an extraordinarily long time to set this up
for you), the children of Abraham are in route from Egypt to
the Promised Land….although the promise is getting flatter
by the hour. As they near the forties (years, not bottles),
they are not happy. I love John Gray’s understated
description of them, when he writes:
The
traditions of the Torah stress that
Israel….being led by God to a homeland…. was, by no
means, a cooperative people.
Which
is how some of my colleagues describe their churches (as
being, by no means, a cooperative people). In this case,
however, the issue was food. The people began by murmuring
among themselves. Beware the murmuring, Jeff. When they start
murmuring, tell Bridget to start packing. Then murmuring
became weeping. But angry weeping….coupled with that other
form of complaining that begins with the letter “b” and
ends with “ing,” that I probably shouldn’t say here.
“Let
us tell you what we do not have,” they said to Moses. “We
do not have meat. Neither do we have fish, leeks, melons,
onions and cucumbers. But especially….hear this, Moses, and
hear it good….we do not have garlic.” Maybe they thought
they were headed for Italy. “And do you want to know where
we last had these things? In Egypt, that’s where we last had
them. Let’s go back there. Sure, we were slaves there. But
at least we were slaves with bouillabaisse.”
So
Moses approached God and said (in effect): “Listen to ’em.
Then tell me what to do with ’em. They aren’t my children.
I didn’t conceive ’em. I didn’t birth ’em. I didn’t
suckle’ em. I just went and got ’em. Because you told me
to. Now I can’t control ’em. So, for my sake, assume
responsibility for ’em.”
To
which God said (in effect): “Single out seventy from among
them. Call them the Administrative Board. I’ll soften their
hearts so they will stand with you against the complainers. It
won’t shut everybody up. But you will have a bunch of guys
with whom to go have a beer (oops, no beer) and play
‘Ain’t It Awful.’”
Then
God continued: “What will shut everybody up is if I stuff
their mouths with meat. Quail meat, to be exact. When I am
done, you’ll be knee deep in quail meat. There will be
plenty for everybody. And they will eat quail, not for one
day….not two days….not five, ten or even twenty days.
They’ll eat a month’s worth of quail until they’re full
of it….so full of it that it will come back up the same way
it went down.” Which isn’t very pretty. But which is what
happened. And before the story ends, several are dead. And one
imagines the remainder to be saying: “In the future, we’d
better be careful what we ask for.”
I’ve
yet to meet a church that didn’t have a Back To Egypt
Committee. When I was in Atlanta with my friends who pastor
large-membership churches, Marvin Vose said (with no small
amount of pain in his voice): “This was the year the Back to
Egypt group formed in the choir.” Which it sometimes does.
When you bring all those people together for two hours on
Wednesday and another hour on Sunday, not all of the music
they make is beautiful.
I
suppose Moses could have handed his committee that wonderful
book entitled You Can’t Go Home Again. But Thomas
Wolfe was going to take 3,300 years in getting around to
writing it. Besides, Wolfe was wrong. At least in part. We can
go home again. Some of us ought to go home again. But we
shouldn’t plan to stay. A visit will usually suffice.
Some
of us go back to satisfy curiosity. I don’t know about you,
but one of the things I am going to do in retirement is trace
some of the places I’ve left and the people I’ve lost. Not
because of anything I’m missing, but because of some dots
that need connecting. As I’ve told you before, there is a
radical dislocation between where I came from and where I’ve
come to. Which will not retrace a lot of miles. But will force
me to recolor a lot of memories.
Others
of us will need to go back to Egypt (or wherever) to fix some
things that were broken there….heal some wounds that first
festered there….or rebuild bridges that we (or people close
to us) once torched there.
While
still others may need to go back, not to reconstruct what was
bad there, but to reclaim what was good there. In the days
when I did more marriage counseling than I do now, I would get
tired of the pain and complaint that was sung in something
other than two-part harmony. So I would say: “Time out.
Let’s try something radically different. Let’s scroll back
to a time when it was good in your marriage….when it looked
good, felt good, smelled, sounded and tasted good. Maybe if we
get in touch with that time and those feelings, we can figure
out where things got derailed and how we might get them back
on track.” Which worked surprisingly well until the day the
wife said: “It never was any good. I was just too stupid to
see it.”
For
the Jews, even in the midst of an ugly situation, there were
good things about Egypt….even if there were only onions,
cucumbers and garlic. Maybe the children of Israel left those
things so fast that they were never able to settle their
feelings about them, so as to move beyond them. Could it be
that even we who trust in God….and in the leading of
God….look backward from time to time? Longingly, from time
to time? Of necessity, from time to time? Going over
unfinished business, from time to time? Lot’s wife did. Only
to become the world’s first human salt lick. Which only
means that there are times, as every parent knows, when the
word “go” means “right now,” and the appropriate
response to the “why” question is “because I said so.”
But among the hardest New Testament commands I know is the one
where Jesus tells me to “put my hand to the plow….don’t
look back.…and let the dead bury the dead.” Which may be
truth. But it is very hard truth. For there is much to settle
before I can follow.
But
let’s dress this issue up and take it to church. Like I
said, every church I know has a Back to Egypt Committee. Not
because church people are resistant to change. Or resistant to
movement. When well led, they’re not. Maybe I’ve lived a
charmed life, but if (as everybody says) the seven last words
of the church are “We’ve never done it that way before,”
I have seldom heard church members say them. I mean it. I have
yet to have a congregation dig in its heels or allow its feet
to become stuck in the miry clay.
What
happens in the congregations I have seen is they get out there
on a limb….sometimes way out on a limb….and they get
scared. Back to Egypt committees do not form unless Egypt is
in the rearview mirror. You can’t go back to a place you
haven’t left.
I
once told you that the saddest comment I have heard from a
pastor in the last decade came from the lips of a woman who,
in answer to my question “How goes it with your church?”,
said: “Things will be wonderful as soon as I can figure out
how to make it be 1955 all over again.” But her situation is
different. Her people don’t want to go back to 1955. In
their minds, they never left 1955. But they are not us.
We’re not stuck in ’55….or ’75….or even ’95. In
fact, we’re amazingly current.
I
don’t have to tell you how much we’ve done together….how
far we’ve ventured together….or how many dollars we’ve
spent together. We have introduced 31 new programs just since
September. And we have a staff with only four people who
predate me on the payroll. You’ve just heard Lindsay talk
about the fact that “it happens here.” And a lot of what
happens here is stuff that hasn’t happened before.
There
are thirteen leadership principles I hold dear. They inform
whatever limited steerage this great ship requires. The staff
knows them. Some day I may even share them. But one of them is
that this church will be….at every level….a
permission-giving rather than a permission-denying
organization. “Yes” being the operative word. “No,”
being the rarely-heard word. I challenge you to come back this
week and circulate among the staff members, trying to find
even one of them who has heard the word “no” two or three
times during their tenure.
Which
has worked wonderfully. And which has worked for a long time.
But some, in anticipation of a change in leadership, have
said: “Maybe it’s a good time to button things
down….tighten things up….scale things back. Not all the
way to Egypt (as if anybody here knows where Egypt was, or
is). But partway to Egypt.”
But
I have seen the early responses from nearly 900 surveys. As
you will remember, you were asked to address 58
ministry-related questions to which you could react in a
number of ways…. including an opportunity to say (concerning
that ministry) whether it should be expanded, maintained or
reduced. I am here to tell you you went 58 for 58 in the
“maintain” and “expand” columns. You don’t want to
cut back on anything. And you want to expand pretty much
everything. Which leads me to conclude that, as a
congregation, Egypt is something you fear more than something
you desire. Although I hope you know how much money it takes
to keep a show like this on the road.
Speaking
personally, I have no taste for tucking things in or dialing
things down. If you hear me say, even one time, “Let’s put
that on the shelf until the new minister gets here,” I want
you to take me into my office and ream me out.
Henry
Roberts is my buddy at First Church, Pensacola. While in
Atlanta, Henry told us about a young clergyperson on his staff
who, beginning his third year, came to him and said: “You
know, I might leave next year (meaning in June), so I figure I
shouldn’t start anything from here on out, given that I
might not be around to finish the job.”
Said
Henry: “It didn’t set too well with me. But when I told my
35-year-old Pastor-Parish Committee chairperson about the
conversation, he said: ‘Let’s let him go right now.’”
Well,
being clergy, they couldn’t let him go right now. You
can’t fire Methodist clergy. But they did ask the district
superintendent to reassign him (at the earliest opportunity).
Now,
I don’t know the end of that story. But I figure he’s gone
now. I think the District Superintendent called him about “a
wonderful opportunity” in a new church (“wonderful
opportunity” being the way district superintendents describe
everything). I hear he is being assigned to a church where the
morale is minimal and the salary, abysmal. But the
superintendent has assured him he will not lack for cucumbers.
Note:
I have loved the story of the complaining Israelites (Numbers
11) since my survey class in the Old Testament (B. Davie
Napier) at Yale Divinity School in 1963. As for discussions of
the number “forty,” I have referenced books on biblical
numerology as well as the standard commentaries. I would also
credit James McGuire who teaches a course called Intro to Film
at Duke University, especially his lecture entitled “The
Significance of the Forty in Menace II Society.”
As
concerns Henry Roberts and First UMC Pensacola, I obviously
have taken a few liberties with the fate of his colleague (as
described in the concluding story of the sermon). Truth be
told, I don’t know whether he is presently knee-deep in
cucumbers. I’ll have to ask Henry. Or you can.
|
