Independence Day Reflections

I am not preaching this coming Sunday, but decided to "re-work" a sermon I preached eleven years ago when July 4, 2010 fell on a Sunday and I opted for the day's readings rather than those appointed for the Sunday in Ordinary Time. That re-edited and updated manuscript follows here. 

I love the Book of Deuteronomy, which easily makes my “top ten” list of Biblical favorites. The narrative premise in Deuteronomy is fairly straightforward: we are meant to imagine Moses and the Israelites on the brink of the Promised Land. They have just spent forty years wandering around the Sinai Peninsula (actually thirty-nine years and eleven months and three weeks to be precise!) Their journey began way back in the fourteenth chapter of Exodus, with Pharaoh’s army at their feet as they miraculously crossed the Sea of Reeds. That journey from slavery toward freedom has continued to unfold through the remaining chapters of Exodus and into Leviticus and Numbers—and then ultimately into Deuteronomy. 

So they now find themselves nearing the end of that long journey, dreaming about owning their own little plot of land flowing with milk and honey, and tending to their own vineyards and owning their own homes and having their own retirement accounts.  

Before they leave Sinai behind them, however, Moses gathers the people one last time to preach one long last sermon. He reminds them that people who have nothing but the shirts on their backs know they are utterly reliant on God and on each other. In the desert, the Israelites have learned to trust in God for daily bread and water. The past thirty-nine years and eleven months and three weeks have not been easy. There has been a good bit of complaining and whining along the way. But they have also learned that faith is lived one day at a time. In the desert the most basic things (like bread and water) are received as gifts and the most primal faith response to receiving such gifts is an attitude of gratitude.

There isn’t really any narrative action in Deuteronomy; they don’t go anywhere. Unlike Exodus and Leviticus and Numbers, they now finally stand on the brink of this Promised Land: it's in sight! And the whole premise of Moses’ sermon (which is basically what the Book of Deuteronomy is) hinges on this concern that Moses has about what affluence will do to this people: if they are not careful, affluence will lead to amnesia. Moses is worried that faithfulness to God’s covenant will actually be harder in a land flowing with milk and honey than it was in the desert. He is worried that an attitude of gratitude will give way to greed and fear, as people become more focused on protecting what they perceive to be their own rather than on sharing with those in need. They will start to think more about “me” and less about “us” and when that happens the neighborhood will be in serious jeopardy.

Self-sufficiency and independence should not overshadow our awareness of interdependence, and perhaps the past fifteen months have reminded us of that. You can pick up the Book of Deuteronomy and pretty much pick any random chapter and that is basically the message you will find there: love of God and love of neighbor are at home in the wilderness. Difficult times make community not only possible, but necessary.

So there is a paradox here: they stand on the verge of an answered prayer, about to enter a land of hopes and dreams. They will never have to eat manna again, because there will be bakeries on every corner with warm crusty breads and soft pitas. That is a very appealing thought to people sick and tired of manna. But Moses sees that there is a shadow side to prosperity. His understanding of human nature is that it won’t take very long before the bread will be in the hands of a few and the strong will have more than their fair share of the good bread, while the more vulnerable members of the community ("the widows and the orphans") will be hungry. Moses is convinced that it will actually be harder to be God’s covenant people in the Promised Land than it was in the Sinai Desert. And he is worried that words like self-reliant, self-made, self-centered will start to dominate the conversation. When that happens, the neighborhood is in trouble.

I want to be clear: Moses is not saying faith is impossible in the Promised Land. He’s simply saying that one shouldn’t be deceived into thinking it will be easy or automatic. I see Moses as a realist, not a pessimist, who simply wants to be as clear and honest as possible about the challenges that lie ahead. The temptation is to think that the hard days are behind them because survival in the wilderness was so difficult. The temptation is to think they will soon be on easy street. But what Moses is saying is that all of our stuff can actually get in the way of loving God and neighbor. It can make one forgetful about the fact that we need God and we need our neighbors.  The key to being faithful in the Promised Land will be memory. It is a word that comes up again and again throughout Moses’ sermon: remember that you are only ever one generation removed from being slaves in a foreign land.

Freedom as it is understood in the Book of Deuteronomy is therefore about something much greater than gaining one’s own liberty or independence. If you flee Egypt and “make it” in the Promised Land, but then promptly turn around and enslave the weakest members of this new society, then all you’ve done is swapped roles from oppressed to oppressor. 

So that is what Deuteronomy is all about, wrestling with these rather large questions about faith and the economy and politics and the human psyche.  And that is what today’s reading from the tenth chapter of Deuteronomy is about as well. Please don't believe those who tell you the Bible is about "spiritual matters" and not about politics and the economy. You have to be a very selective reader of God's Word to believe that for even a second. Theologically, the God of Deuteronomy is mighty and awesome  but because God is also good, God isn’t the least bit interested in accumulating more power. God isn’t interested in bribes. God isn’t interested in helping the rich get richer. Rather, God considers it a good day when slaves are liberated and the hungry are fed and the poor are treated with dignity and respect. God “executes justice for the widow and orphan.”

And God loves strangers. God loves the stranger because God isn’t afraid of what is other—of what is different—of hearing different languages or trying different foods. Since you were yourselves strangers in Egypt not that long ago, Moses argues (on God’s behalf), it would be to make a mockery of the Exodus if you now turn around and treat the strangers in your midst the way you were treated in Pharaoh’s Egypt. That may be the way the world works. But it’s not the way God’s plan works. It's not how God's people are to behave.  

I realize this is all pretty serious stuff for a Fourth of July weekend, when so many of us are breaking out and enjoying the company of friends and family again after a long season of isolation. But in opting for the readings the lectionary gives us for Independence Day, you and I as twenty-first century Americans are invited to reflect on this ancient Torah text in the context of our own Fourth of July celebrations. What kind of nation are we becoming? Freedom is never finished, it seems to me; never something to take for granted. We are in the midst of difficult times, although the older I get the more I have come to realize it's the "easy times" that are rare. Yet as Christians we might ask whether it is possible for such times to shape and form a more compassionate people by reminding us who our neighbors are. We might step back and reflect on what an immigration policy might look like in a nation that loves the stranger as God does, rather than fearing them. We might step back and wonder what our tax code look like if it reflected a genuine concern for widows and orphans?

There is grace in simply asking such questions and maybe it is what we as Christians are intended to contribute to the marketplace of ideas. Whether we are liberals or moderates or conservatives, we can remember (as we pray in the collect for the day) that true freedom does not come easily and is never finished. Perhaps we can even help to re-frame economic precariousness and see it not as something that instills more fear and selfishness, but as a gift that opens us up to one another in new ways. If we are a people who are at least asking such questions, we stand a far better chance of discovering a healthier form of patriotism rather than falling into the trap of xenophobic nationalism. The poet who has written what is, for me, the most patriotic hymn I know, points us in the right direction:

             This is my prayer, O Lord of all earth’s kingdoms; 
                        thy kingdom come, on earth thy will be done.

            Let Christ be lifted up till all shall serve him,
                       and hearts united learn to live as one.

            O hear my prayer, thou God of all the nations,                       
                        myself I give thee, let thy will be done.

This Book of Deuteronomy also has pretty radical implications for a theology of stewardship, which has been on my mind lately. While we may feel more precarious than usual, I am fully aware of my own privilege and the knowledge that most days I live in the Promised Land rather than in the Sinai Desert. I am far more familiar with feeling secure and self-reliant and independent. No one I know (including myself) wakes up in the morning and says, hey, I think I need more precariousness in my life…

And yet it seems to me that those times of precariousness (which even the most privileged among us do face from time to time) are a gift when it comes to our faith. Those times when we find ourselves in the wilderness are also the times when we stand the best chance of experiencing God’s healing presence and the Spirit’s transformative power. Amazing grace that saved a wretch like me…

It is in the wilderness times that we discover (and re-discover) that God is present. It is there that we learn to live life one day at a time and to see all of life as sheer gift. It is in our need that we are able both to give and to receive, and that changes our worldview. It opens us up to become a people with more grateful and generous hearts. When that happens to us, our spirituality can no longer be disconnected from what we do with our time, and our talents, and yes, our money. Summertime gives us a chance to slow down and step back. Whether we are out camping or walking along the beach or hiking up a mountain, it can put us in a place somewhere between the wilderness and the Promised Land, in a place where we can remember that a well-lived life is one that is lived simply, so that others may simply live. We remember what matters (and what doesn’t) and by God's grace we give thanks to the One who is with us through it all.

God bless America and God bless everyone - no exceptions.