October 5, 2008
Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20
At our parish retreat at Shrine Mont this summer, I had an interesting discussion with some others about rules and decision-making. We were out at nearby Lake Laura and it began to thunder, so the people in charge closed the lake to swimming and boating until the thunder stopped. But there was this little side inlet – a little fenced in beachy play area for little kids. It was mostly sandy, and about a foot of water in the deepest spot. Since it was fenced off and sort of out of the way, the kids started eyeing it as a place to play while they waited for the rest of the lake to open again. Pretty soon, some kids we didn’t know went down there and started building sand castles and splashing around. And then some of the St. Aidan’s kids headed down. And then one of the girls from our group came over to us, asking whether they were allowed to play there. The rules weren’t clear so she was reluctant to join in the fun just in case it wasn’t allowed.
The other mothers and I got to talking about what we teach our kids about rules and what to do if the rules are unclear. One woman said that she tells her kids that unless something is obviously wrong or patently dangerous, go ahead and have fun until someone tells you to stop. Another woman came at it from another direction, erring on the side of caution. She teaches her kids to follow rules, and to get clarification if the rules are unclear. I had never thought about what my general philosophy was on the subject, and had to admit that my unconscious practice when rules were unclear is to assume that if other people are doing something, it must be okay. Our conversation was sort of in jest, but it was fascinating nonetheless.
We Americans have interesting relationships with rules. Sometimes we can admit that they are put in place to keep us safe (wear your seatbelt, don’t drink and drive). Sometimes we can agree that they keep society ordered (many of us wish there had been a few more regulations in place on financial institutions in recent years). But more often, and especially when they apply to us in a way that stops us from doing what we want, we see them as burdensome and constricting, something to bend or get around. It’s almost part of the American Dream to appreciate the free spirits that aren’t bogged down by rules. The ones that stand up against the system and make their own way in the world.
We Christians have an interesting relationship with rules as well. We don’t mind talking about covenant and grace and forgiveness, but the term “obedience” makes us cringe. We see Jesus as someone who came to break open the constricting bonds of the law. And yet those famous Ten Commandments that are recounted in our Old Testament reading for today would probably be included by most Christians in the Top Ten list of the fundamentals of religion. Many of us memorized them in Sunday school or grew up in towns where they were plastered up on courtroom walls or made into statues on the square. Somehow, they are a piece of our story as people of God.
The Exodus reading gives an account of Moses’ first receiving the commandments from God. It’s handy that there are ten of them – one for each finger. And they are fairly simple. There were four commandments governing the relationship of the people with God, and six governing human relationships. And they were blasted in stone for all to see.
Of course, we quickly see that the fact that they were simple and the fact that they were relatively few didn’t make them any easier for people to follow. It must have raised some eyebrows when Moses, who murdered an Egyptian fairly early in his career, came down the mountain with the tablet proclaiming “Thou shalt not murder.” And before Moses even read the rules out loud, there was his brother Aaron fashioning a golden calf as an idol and all the people were dancing around and worshipping it. And then in the Bible come story after story of God’s people murdering, engaging in adultery, coveting just about everything, and, most importantly, forgetting to love the Lord their God.
It’s not terribly different with us.
* The concept of Sabbath is pretty much a thing of the past for most people. Who has time to rest in God, to recharge, to find our inner passions when there is work to be done, chores to be accomplished, soccer games, birthday parties, homework…
* We probably don’t covet our neighbor’s ox or donkey, but we certainly want more than we need. In many ways, our economy actually seems to be based on coveting with government officials who go so far as to suggest we should respond to crisis by shopping.
* And while probably not many of us have murdered anyone in cold blood, if we look more systemically, it’s shocking how our self-indulgence affects people living across the globe. Our actions here cause environmental degradation and famine and political instability for others.
* And we aren’t smelting golden calves, but we’ve got plenty of idols to choose from. Success, riches, youth, beauty – choose your poison.
So if we’re really honest with ourselves, it probably isn’t any easier for us to look at those Ten Commandments than it was for the folks waiting at the bottom of the mountain for Moses. Our tendency is to read them and feel guilty and judged and inadequate and sinful. And then to worry about what that means for our relationship with God.
Which, I hope and I really do believe, is the last thing God intends for us. As we heard this morning, God prefaces the Ten Commandments by saying, “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.” In other words, “You can trust me – I love you – I am here for you, and have been always.”
There’s always a little danger in ascribing motives to God, of course, but I’m pretty certain that God intended the Ten Commandments to be a gift for us. This morning’s psalm says it much more poetically than I could: “The law of the Lord is perfect and revives the soul.” “The commandment of the Lord is clear and gives light to the eyes.” “More to be desired are they than gold.”
Our relationship with God isn’t based on our obeying the Ten Commandments. Instead, the commandments are, as amazing preacher Barbara Brown Taylor describes them, “the lovingly drawn boundaries of our creator.” They are ten rules that describe a life worth living, rules that help to transform us into what we already are – beloved children of God. The Ten Commandments are part of our covenant with God, part of our relationship with a personal and loving God.
When Jesus is asked which commandment in the law is the greatest, he summarizes them all into two statements: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. And you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” These two statements simplify the Ten Commandments (now we only need two fingers). But they also expand them. You’d think with only two to follow we’d be in better shape, but Jesus’ two don’t get us out of our predicament. Instead, we see how broad and all-encompassing those Ten Commandments really were. And we also see clearly how interconnected they are. God’s love for us and our love for God flows into our love for one another.
Jesus is, of course, the perfect example of this. He loved God with his entire being -- praying constantly, intimately connected with scripture, willing to die in accordance with God’s will. And Jesus loved his neighbors abundantly – including outcasts and sinners in his ministry, healing and teaching and serving those around him, going so far as to give his life for us.
If we are lucky, we might have smaller illustrations of that intersection between faith and love for neighbor in our own lives. My grandmother died earlier this week so I’ve been thinking a lot about her and how vividly she lived out her love of God and neighbor. She lived out west and was something of a pioneer woman. She was strong and smart and funny. She published four books and taught us to sew and threw the best tea parties ever. She never had a lot of money, but she had a lot of faith and a lot of love.
Grandma made God the center of her life. She was a fervent Episcopalian and prayed and read the Bible daily. She was a pillar of her church -- a steadfast member of Daughters of the King, an active Bible study member, and the first to volunteer for just about everything. And her love of God was contagious. She gave my sister and I our first Bibles and prayer books and somehow made it seem like reading them was a great adventure. She taught us prayers on road trips to the Red Wood Forest and sent us to the local Vacation Bible School.
Grandma saw God at work in everyone around her, and it was clear from the way she loved and helped the people she came across. For years during the 60s, she sat down and wrote a letter to a congressperson every single day, urging them to support civil rights legislation. She sold SERV products during coffee hour to make money for struggling merchants in developing countries. She drove seniors to church and doctors’ appointments. She sewed quilts to send to people after natural disasters. She had people all over the world who were penpals because they had spent time living with her as part of some exchange program or another. She helped raise a niece and three grandchildren when their mothers’ died and had her mother-in-law living with her for years. Her house was a place where anyone was welcome, and even when she didn’t have much, she had food and kindness to share.
She had her moments, of course – nobody’s perfect. But overall, she lived a life of faith that brimmed over into an enveloping love for others. I think that’s what God was hoping for when God gave Moses and the Israelites, and all of us, the Ten Commandments. Not for blind obedience or guilty disobedience, but for each of us to be freed to live a life that is full and faithful and loving. To love God and love our neighbor with everything we’ve got.
Elizabeth Rees