Rev. Danielle K Bartz September 10, 2023
Exodus 3:1-15 “Oh Look…!”
Earlier this week I read an article about fire lookouts in the mountain west. Once a huge industry, there are only a few hundred left in the United States. These folks spend the summers living in extremely remote cabins, often with no running water and only a radio for communication. They watch the horizon for smoke, and when spotted, help firefighters locate fires, track the fire’s movement, and determine if the fire needs to be put out.
There is new technology being developed to replace these human lookouts, but experts will tell you that none of the technology comes close to providing the same level of expertise that human eyes and experience can. There was a time, however, when an open position during fire season would have 20-30 candidates. Now only a couple of people apply, if any. With our changing climate, and more and more people moving to areas that are prone to wildfires, this creates a concern. There needs to be someone who is always looking. Someone who isn’t just visiting the wilderness, but lives there and pays close attention to what they are looking at. This paying attention is, quite literally, a matter of life and death.
However, the wilderness, for most people, is a place we visit, and too often only see through the lens of a camera. And in fact, for many people, the ‘wilderness’ they are visiting isn’t all that wild. For instance, my hair stylist is currently on her honeymoon in Bozeman and Jackson Hole. I think I was successful in convincing her to visit either Yellowstone or Grand Teton National Parks while in the area. She told me in our last conversation that if she and her partner were going to visit that she would have to make sure they had the ‘right equipment’ to survive a day in the wilderness. Having never visits the Parks, I imagine she will be surprised to learn that, if you stay on the roads anyway, survival simply means finding a bathroom without a long line or jostling for a position at Old Faithful that isn’t obscured by crowds.
True wilderness isn’t a place many of us are familiar with. And therefore, we are often wary of it. Most of us don’t have the skills necessary to survive, let alone thrive, like those long-term and vital fire lookouts in the mountain west I was reading about. So, often we will just visit in the safety of crowds and cars, knowing that the familiar is waiting for us when we are ready to leave. And that may be all well and good when it comes to physical places of wilderness in our world. But when it comes to the other forms of wilderness – unfamiliar social landscapes, changing norms and patterns, evolving habits – those other forms of wilderness are something we cannot avoid. But, I worry that our fear of the wilderness prevents us from seeing the blessings that exist there. And the blessings are abundant – which I believe is evidenced by the blessings we have encountered in the wilderness that the Church universal has entered.
Back in either 2020 or 2021, I did a sermon series and Bible study series on the Exodus story as told in our scriptures. A story of a people removed from all that was familiar, even though that familiar included oppression and slavery, resonated deeply with how many of us were feeling in that early part of the pandemic when everything, everything around us was unfamiliar. There was a general level of fear about what was happening or going to happen next. And all of us were worrying – would we, this church, be able to survive in this wilderness? Did we have the skills necessary? And, most importantly, would we be able to find God in a landscape that was so unfamiliar?
Jewish tradition states that the burning bush was in fact burning from the moment of creation, but that Moses was the first to notice and pay attention. The tradition tells us that God had been waiting for someone to remove themselves from all that was familiar and felt safe and notice God. If you remember the scripture, the bush didn’t burst into flames right in front of Moses, giving him no option but to look. Instead, we read this: “he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. Then Moses said, ‘I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.’ When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, ‘Moses, Moses!’” Moses noticed something extraordinary was happening, but he then made a choice to look and pay attention. Only then did God call out to him. Only then did a series of events unfold that led to us gathered in this space today.
How often do we notice something extraordinary happening, but either fear or apathy prevent us from really paying attention? How often do we look around at the unfamiliar landscape and search for only the familiar and understandable – choosing to ignore everything else because we can’t explain it yet? Or, perhaps worst of all – how often do we notice something extraordinary and just snap a quick picture of it, to be looked at later, removing any possibility of true engagement and wonder? What do we miss out on when we do that? Do we miss out on God, waiting for us to notice, waiting to call out to us by name?
These are temptations to sin we face every day – and I define sin as an intentional distancing from God and God’s influence in our lives. We must always be on guard against these temptations – which can ultimately be summed up as fear. And I wonder, perhaps the best way to combat those temptations, that fear, is to remember how brave we have been in the wilderness already, and all the ways we have found God when we chose to pay attention.
I remember the first-time leading worship entirely on my own, sitting alone in my basement with nothing up my cellphone and the Facebook app. I was sure I would never find God down there, but then your names, as you signed on to the live service started to flash in front of me. Oh look, I thought, there is God. I remember when the Council made the decision, on behalf of this congregation, to donate $1000 a month to a local organization helping with the needs the pandemic created, not knowing if we were going to be able to pay our own bills. Oh look, there is God. I remember picking up homemade apple crisp from Marilyn Schneider’s home, and on her behalf, delivering it to Betty Monroe’s home – an act so sacred for me tears soaked my facemask. Oh look, there is God. I remember our first Sunday gathering together again, distanced in the parking lot, worrying that no one would come back, and John Ngugi walking through the Fireside room helping me to move equipment outside saying aloud to no one, or perhaps just God, how wonderful he felt being back at the church again. Oh look, there is God. I remember the first time I invited those in the sanctuary for worship to turn to the camera on the back wall with arms open wide, greeting with the peace of Christ those worshipping at home, a few giving a small wave to friends and family spread out across the country with genuine love and smiles. Oh look, there is God. I remember the first Thursday we opened our doors again for Souper Thursday, not sure if it was a ministry we still could do, but soon the kitchen was full of new volunteers and our first guests walked in with grateful smiles to be back. Oh look, there is God.
And I look out at all of you today, both those in this space with me and those who are joining from your homes or the road – on the five-year anniversary of my ministry here. We are in an unfamiliar place for the church in the world, a place I could have not imagined on that first Sunday back in 2018. And yet, here we all are – strong, vibrant, brave, true, and faithful to God, to this church, and to one another. Oh look, there is God.
My Beloved Community, we are indeed in the wilderness, but we have nothing to fear. Yes, the world is changing and we worry about what will happen next, but we have nothing to fear. God exists in the unfamiliar places. God burns brightly in the places that we are fearful to enter. God is waiting for us to notice and God is ready to call out to us by name. It has happened over and over again. And it will keep happening. We are here together. We are here with God. Oh…LOOK! Amen.
PASTORAL PRAYER
Present and Loving God – there is no place we can go where we will not find you waiting for us, ready to call out to us by the name you have given us: Beloved. For your always promised, always given presence in our lives, we give you great thanks. And it is in that spirit of gratitude that we come before you in prayer now.
God, there are times in our lives when what is around us is so unfamiliar we choose to close our eyes and not look. When we make that choice, remind us of your grace. And, when we are ready to open our eyes and see, shows us your presence burning brightly. Remind us that we are never alone and that the communities we choose to surround ourselves with are always there, just as you are.
God, one of the ways we offer our thanks for your presence is in prayer, prayers for ourselves and prayers for others. As we open our hearts and spirits to you, give us the ears to hear your still-speaking voice…
Good and loving God, our teacher and guide along the way, Jesus, walked through the wilderness pointing out God to all who was willing to look. So, we pray in his name and in the way he taught…Our Father…