“What Have You Done for Me Lately?”

a sermon by the Rev. Dr. Hilary J. Barrett

Preached at Pleasantville United Church of Christ, October 9, 2011

Exodus 32:1-14

“When the people saw that Moses delayed to come down from the mountain,
the people gathered around Aaron, and said to him, ‘Come, make gods for us, who shall go before us; as for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.’”
(Exodus 32:1)

Over the past few weeks we have been making our way with the people of Israel as they journey out of bondage, through the wilderness, to the Promised Land.  And in the course of that time we have encountered numerous images and stories that are critical to the foundation of our faith.  The Exodus is so important in the sacred imagination of the Judeo-Christian tradition that “among all the books…[in the Bible]…Biblical writers quote or refer to Exodus more often than any other book.”[1]

It is from the book of the Exodus that we know, for instance, that how it is with God’s people matters to God.  In Exodus 3:7, we hear that when they are bound in slavery to the Egyptians, God recognizes their misery; he hears their cries of anguish and he is so concerned about their condition that he raises up a great leader and prophet named Moses to lead his people out of bondage and into freedom.

It is from the book of Exodus that we hear the story of the baby Moses found in the bulrushes; that we see the burning bush – out of which God spoke to Moses that first time on Mt. Sinai; that we understand the notion of holy ground that Moses is commanded to recognize and honor by taking off his shoes. 

The book of Exodus tells the story of the 10 Plagues that God visited upon the Egyptians to help them decide that continuing to enslave God’s people was not a good idea.  And it is the book of Exodus that carries the story of the Passover itself, when the Angel of Death passed over the houses of the Hebrew slaves, sparing the children within their homes. 

It is the book of Exodus that holds the story of the parting of Red Sea and the miraculous rescue of the Hebrew people.  And it is from this book that we learn how God led the people through the desert by night with a pillar of fire, and sheltered them from the scorching heat by day with a pillar of cloud.

The book of the Exodus shows us how God provided manna in the wilderness and caused water to gush forth from rocks in the desert to sustain the people through the whole length of their journey.  And it is Exodus that conveys the Ten Commandments of God – laws that define “how the people will live together in health and righteousness to the glory of God.”[2]

All of these stories – and more – are held in this book – and this morning we come to yet another story that is important to have in our theological memory banks – important not only because it is one of the foundational stories of our faith, but because it is so absolutely true.  Sometimes people of faith argue a very great deal about whether something in the scriptures is literally true.  The story of the Golden Calf is one of those stories in the Bible about which you can say with great sincerity, “I don’t know if it happened exactly like this, but I know it’s true.”  And when you hear this story, you’ll know it’s true also.

Read the story of the Golden Calf: Exodus 32:1-14.

This is a people who have been rescued by God’s mighty hand over and over again.  Their leader Moses has gone before them, and led them through all kinds of danger and difficulty.  And then, when he goes up the mountain to be in conversation with God and fails to come back to them in a timely manner, they bail.  They get so freaked out waiting at the bottom of Mt. Sinai that they decide that God is not faithful; that Moses is not reliable; that there really is no point in continuing to wait any longer, and that their only choice is to fashion a god of their own hands; one that suits their own specifications; one that they can control; one that does their bidding; their only choice is to worship that god instead of the One who brought them out of the Land of Egypt. 

Just weeks after they receive the Ten Commandments and promise to abide by them; just 40 days after they say ‘Amen’ to “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; ³you shall have no other gods before^* me” they are collecting friendship bracelets and gold watches to melt down into a god they can really trust.

There’s a recurring theme in the stories that come out of Israel’s journey to the Promised Land.  It’s a theme about doubt and trust; about forgetting and remembering.  The people of Israel were faced with a time of trial and instead of rehearsing the evidence of God’s great faithfulness they stood at the foot of the mountain and said to God, ‘but what have you done for me lately?’

As a parent, this story sounds a whole lot like contending with a teenager sometimes.  Back when Rob and I were in the throes of parenting a teen (now remember, Sam just turned 20, so we’re not talking that long ago), there was a book written called, “Get Out of My Life, But First Could You Drive Me and Cheryl to the Mall?” There is a sense in this story that the people of God are a bit like an ill-tempered child who has forgotten that everything they have has been given to them by the very one whom they are rebelling against.  Perhaps the story of the Golden Calf is, among other things, an accurate description of what happens when our spiritual lives developmentally stall in adolescence.

But whatever else may be learned from the story of the Golden Calf, one thing is certain: this is a story about a failure of memory; more specifically – it is a story about a failure of sacred memory.  The people of God have failed to remember that everything they have and everything they are come as a result of God’s unfailing goodness and love.  Were it not for God, they would still be slaves in Egypt.

I’m not a big fan of Jay Leno, but I know enough about his Tonight Show to know that one of his regular comedy segments was called, “Jaywalking.”  In “Jaywalking,” Leno would go out into the streets of some American city and pull people aside to ask them questions that – well, weren’t that difficult. Questions like – how many dimes are there in a dollar? Or, who’s the current vice-president – that kind of thing. In one episode, “a couple of people were asked how long ago Jesus lived.  One said 500 years ago, another said millions of years ago….another had no clue as to what the Friday before Easter is called or what it means.  When Leno hinted, "Well, it's a really good Friday," the man he was interviewing said, "I just don't know.”[3]

I’m not sharing these stories as a way of making fun of people.  On the contrary; I don’t think that this kind of thing is really funny at all. The failure of memory can have disastrous consequences -- as our story, today, proves.  The failure of sacred memory can undermine our very salvation. Before ever reaching Mount Sinai, Moses gave his people a commandment to remember: ‘Remember this day on which you came out of Egypt, out of the house of slavery, because the Lord brought you out from there by strength of hand…” (Exodus 13:3). This admonition is still ringing in their ears when they cast aside their faith in God and attribute their salvation to the work of their own hands.

This is a story about what can go wrong when we fail to remember where we come from.  It’s a story about what can go wrong, when we fail to remember what we’ve been through.  And most importantly, this is a story about what can go wrong when we forget to Whom we belong.

            One of our tasks as people of faith is to rehearse and retell the occasions of God’s faithfulness in our lives and in the lives of others.  This is one of the things that we do every time we gather for worship.  It needs to be one of the things we do when we meet together outside of worship. 

            By telling one another the stories of God’s grace in our lives, we are reminding ourselves and one another who we are, where we come from, and to Whom we belong.  We do this because the world can be a hard place and it is easy to lose your way in it.  We do this because, if we don’t, we are likely to be seduced into thinking that all that we have is the work of our own hands. And we do this because, if we don’t, we are likely to fashion for ourselves gods that look exactly the way we want them to look and never know that there is a God who has a paid a high price for us and for our salvation and that God requires our fidelity.

            In the Jewish tradition there is a song that is sun at Passover which is over a thousand years old.  The name of the song is, “Dayenu,” which is Hebrew for “enough.” Although Passover falls in the spring, these lyrics have a shaping wisdom which is appropriate for all times of giving thanks.

            The Hebrew lyrics of the song Dayenu mean that even if God had only brought us out of Egypt, if God had not also given us the Sabbath, it would have been enough for us. 

            And if God had only given us the Sabbath and not also us manna in the wilderness to sustain us, it would have been enough for us.

            And if God had only given us manna, and not also the Torah, or Holy Scriptures to nourish us, it would have been enough for us.

            This is a song of thanks and gratitude.  Its message uncomplicated:  If God did a simple favor for us and didn't do anything else, it would have been sufficient.  The unspoken message is, of course, if God had only done these few things it would have been enough, and yet God did so much more.  It has been sung by children, teenagers, and adults, over and over again for a thousand years.  That’s spiritual formation.

            Our God knows how easy it can be for us to lose our way -- the days are long, the news is not good, we struggle with personal failure and disappointment and heartache.  Under the circumstances, we might feel a whole lot like we’ve been left at the bottom of the mountain waiting and waiting and waiting for a word from the Holy One that will speak to our lives.

            And when those times come – as they will -- it is all the more important for us to sing to one another songs of hope and witness – songs that remind us of all that God has done for us; songs that teach us to see all that God is doing.

            On the inside cover of your bulletin you will find a prayer by Thomas Merton, a Trappist monk who wrote over 70 books on spirituality and social justice. It’s a perfect prayer for those times in our lives when we feel like we might be headed in the wrong direction; when we wonder whether we are following God, or whether – perhaps – he’s somewhere at the top of some mountain visiting with a prophet for far longer than we are comfortable.

            Read Merton prayer.

            Thanks be to God.  Amen.