Sermon for the Thirteenth Sunday After Pentecost, Year C (9-7-25)

You know that thing that happens? That thing when you're in public and you see two people talking, but you can't quite make out what they are saying? But it seems interesting or important enough that - you know - you kind of fill in the gaps? You craft the conversation and spin a narrative (generally a totally ridiculous one if it's me) taking on the role of narrator and letting these poor, unassuming people act out your wild machinations. (This is especially fun when you suspect two people are on a first date, 'cause come on, you can almost always tell.)

And then there are the times that you actually overhear a conversation that kind of puts your antenna up. You hear enough to either be intrigued, or concerned, or even perhaps a little judgmental. But you know you don't have all the info. Either way, what you hear means something to you. Even if you're not the one being spoken to.

This phenomenon is often what's happening in our scriptures. Because what we hear in scripture is indeed for our hearing,  but it's also important to remember that we - specifically we the people in this room with our own social contexts, and understanding - we are not necessarily part of the conversations themselves. 

Let's take Moses' very famous last words to the Israelites as one example this morning. "See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity... I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses," Moses warns.

Without knowing some of the backstory here, and in the absence of any real experience with Moses and his merry band of Israelites Moses sounds kind of like a jerk, yeah? Seemingly he's setting up a trap for these people, and he's not even being subtle about it. Why would Moses who has been leading these people for 40 years, wandering through the desert set them up for such easy failure - and especially at this last hour of that journey?

What we in this room don't necessarily hold in our minds when hearing this bit of tough love is the long, loooonngggg saga of the Israelites. Who God has delivered from slavery by God's own hand. Who have, in fact, struggled to choose life at several turns. Who have  in many cases been given  commands that will lead to their safety and prosperity, only to have them think as though they know better. And many have in fact died by this point because of it. We don't necessarily work from the same lived story as this group.

I for one can absolutely imagine giving a very similar pep talk as Moses at this particular juncture - sharp and direct as it might be. But see, even that kind of thinking isn't quite squeezing out the best meaning from this story. And similarly, placing ourselves as one of those Israelites - and perhaps being tempted to become offended on their behalf at the seeming callousness of both Moses and God - will be a distraction from hearing what this text is really trying to say.

It does seem harsh, and it doesn't quite match up with my image of God. But what it does say - loud and clear - is that we always have a choice. God does not drag us into communion. And at the same time, we've been given clear warnings of what might very well happen when we decided to slap away God's hand and go it alone. Make our own way. Be our own God. There is death at the other end of that. And so, we have a choice. Blessings or curses. Life...or death.

Do I think Moses is telling "us" that he has put a precarious path before "us" specifically? No. It's not our story. But do I hear the truth about our immutable gift of choice and free will in this story; loud and clear. All scripture is for our hearing, but not every story is our story.

What can you hear beyond the text on the page? Knowing that we aren't the actual characters in these stories, what truth is the Spirit pointing out to us even amid the shock or potential offense at the conversations we're allowed to overhear?  You can maybe fill in a few of the narrative details, but try not to get carried away.

And if you are indeed gifted new insight, or fresh understanding, or even just an ability to see through the fog of the text - give thanks! Because that is a gift - scripture always is. A gift from the Spirit, for our hearing. 

Amen.