FMC -September 13, 2020 Barbara Ewy

Wade in the Water

“Wade in the water, wade in the water, children. Wade in the water. God’s agonna trouble the water.” Years ago when I was working up at Rocky Mountain Mennonite Camp, our theme one particular summer was the Exodus. We took the campers on a trek re-enacting the wilderness journey. Each evening at chapel we sang together. We sang “Wade in the water,” and every refrain we stood remembering the Red Sea crossing. Like the Bible story it refers to, the song comes out of the experience of bondage and deliverance. The story behind this spiritual is that sang it to help slaves escape through the . It told them to stay near the water, sometimes even in the water, so that the slave catchers with their dogs would not be able to find them. The troubled waters represented the ups and downs of life. such as this one expressed a deep connection between their own lives and the Biblical story…between their reality and God. Our own Mennonite-Anabaptist tradition has also connected to the Exodus story, including the Red Sea crossing. Exodus is a story of migration. Our Anabaptist and Mennonite forebears knew about migration, sometimes fleeing persecution, other times seeking a home where they could practice their faith peacefully and raise their families. The Ausbund, which is the oldest Anabaptist hymnal, includes hymns that were composed in the dungeon of Passau Castle in Bavaria where Anabaptists were imprisoned between 1535 and 1540. Some of them were martyred. Like the Israelites at the Red Sea, these Anabaptists were caught between a rock and a hard place. When I was in first or second grade I remember my mother reading to me and my sister. The book she read to us was Henry’s Red Sea. Perhaps many of you have read that book. It is the story of the Bergen family escaping from Russian soldiers after World War II. As refugees in Berlin, they take in the crippled child Rudy who has lost his parents. They know they cannot go back home, but the way forward is blocked. Neither the U.S. or Canada will accept the entire family, cripple and all. The book tells how MCC worked with the refugees and finally gained permission for the entire family, including Rudy, to emigrate to Paraguay. Even though Henry’s Red Sea is being crossed, they face an unknown future, but with faith and hope. When Grandma Bergen, who has long believed her son to be imprisoned or dead, sees him alive on board the ship, she hurries up the gangplank to embrace him, exclaiming “The Lord hath given and the Lord hath taken away…Blessed be the name of the Lord.” When the Israelites were escaping from Egypt they came to the sea and camped. We don’t know exactly where that was. The Bible tells us that as they camped they saw Pharoah’s army coming after them and they were afraid. Exodus 14:10 following says that they cried out to the Lord and then turned on Moses. “Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us, bringing us out of Egypt?...It would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness.” The Midrash is Jewish commentary. Its like a parable that helps explain. It’s a teaching tool. The Midrash says that when the Israelites saw the Egyptian army coming after them, they were divided into four groups, four points of view. One group said, “Let us throw ourselves into the sea.” A second group said, “Let us return to Egypt.” Another group argued, “Let us wage war on the Egyptians.” And a fourth group said, “Let us pray to Yahweh.” Moses rejected all four approaches. “Do not be afraid,” he said. “Stand firm and see the deliverance that the Lord will accomplish for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today you shall never see again. The Lord will fight for you and you have only to keep still.” Sometimes, however, deliverance doesn’t come in the way we expect it. God said to Moses, “Why do you cry out to me? Tell the Israelites to go forward…” There is another story from the Midrash about what happened next. When the command to go forward was given, the tribes hesitated. No one wanted to be first to jump into the sea. But there was one man named Nachshon of the tribe of Judah. Seeing what was happening, he threw himself into the sea. He waded deeper and deeper into the waters, until it nearly covered him. Moses, still standing and praying, heard these words from God. “My beloved ones are drowning in the stormy seas, and you are standing and praying?” Moses asked, “Master of the world, what am I to do?” God replied, “Lift your staff and spread your hand over the seas, which will split, and Israel will come into the sea upon dry land.” That is what Moses did, and the Israelites followed Nachshon’s lead, crossed the sea and were saved. Sometimes I feel like we, too, are trapped beside the Red Sea. Our nation is bitterly divided politically. We don’t know what will happen in the election or its aftermath. Civil unrest is a fact of life in many cities. We know racial inequality and injustice still exist, still cost lives and still keep some in poverty. Asylum seekers are stuck at the border, afraid to go back but unable to go forward. Covid-19 has changed our way of life. We worship by zoom. Many of us work from home or simply stay home. Isolation, masks, social distance have become a way of life. Who among us expected it to last this long, or take so many lives, or cost so many people their business or employment? And then the fires, the devastating fires not only here but across the west coast states. We anxiously follow the news, hoping our church camp at Keola has been saved, mourning the lost homes and businesses, the landscape charred and changed in a special place that was beautiful and peaceful and dear to us. Like Moses, I wonder “what am I to do?” “Why do you cry out to me?” God asks. “Tell the Israelites to go forward.” Rabbi Steven Nathan has written an interesting article called “The Singing of the Oppressed.” Exodus 15 contains the Song of Moses, a victory song after the Israelites crossed the sea and the Egyptians perished. Rabbi Nathan writes, “I wonder if they needed to sing while crossing the Sea: not knowing if they would make it to the other side, but reaching for the strength within them to praise God while still not certain of what God had in store for them. Perhaps their fear and their hope were too much to express in mere words, and so they burst forth in song—perhaps first tenuously, but eventually reaching a crescendo as they approached the other side, then bursting forth as a full-blown ‘Hallelujah chorus’ once they were on dry land.” And so we also remember how our forbears sang in prison, sang in martyrdom, sang ”Nun danket alla Gott” (Now Thank We All Our God) at partings before migrations. We know how songs were so important to the slaves and in the Civil rights movement of the sixties. Songs build courage when opposition is fierce. Songs build determination to keep going, to not give up. When we sing with others we build community…. We are so grateful to Joleen for leading us in music during these zoom worship services, but we miss the joy of harmony and singing together in a way that can really only happen when we are together physically. We identify with the Red Sea event as a migration story. We also understand what it is to come upon obstacles and not know which way to turn. We look for a way out, a way forward. But in our understanding of theology, our understanding of Jesus and God’s ways, the story also troubles us. What of the Egyptians? Do we not believe that God loves everyone? On Friday as I was preparing for today, I ran across a new article in the September 11, 2020 issue of the Jewish Chronicle, billed as the world’s oldest and most influential Jewish newspaper. The headline asked, “Why did we sing when the Egyptians drowned?” The article tells the following story from the Talmud: “On seeing the drowning Egyptians the angels were about to break into song when God silenced them declaring, ‘How dare you sing for joy when my creatures are dying” (Talmud, Megillah 10b and Sanhedrin 39b). The article continues, “But if God stopped the angels from singing, why were our ancestors allowed? Maybe because they needed to give voice to the huge relief of finally being redeemed.” End quote. The article goes on to point out that on Seder night they spill out a few drops of wine, to remind them that “the cup of deliverance and celebration cannot be full when others have to suffer.” The author identifies a dichotomy. We have to care enough that evil is punished, is dealt with, and yet if we are not saddened by the loss of life our very humanity is threatened. The article concludes, “Maybe the dramatic image of the sea splitting is the actual metaphor for this dichotomy. The two shores of the sea represent the two sides of the story. And we must pass through the middle, preserving and valuing life, yet not drowning in war and hate. The middle path between justice and mercy is a difficult one to tread and at any moment we can be washed away. I think we are meant to follow the path of the Israelites, in God’s Hands, into the sea.” That “middle path” is also the path that Jesus walked. It is a path that refused to condemn, and yet called people to new life. It is a path that invited people into community rather than excluding them. It is a path that cried for justice but refused to lift a sword. It is a path that led to resurrection by way of a cross. The middle path is not an easy path. Rabbi Jonathan Kligler of the Woodstock Jewish Congregation says this about the story of the Red Sea crossing: “I read this as a parable of courage and faith: there are times in one’s life journey when the only way forward is to step into the unknown, not knowing if the ground will rise up to meet you. The way forward seems obscure, terrifying, beyond one’s capacity to endure, even absurd. Yet you know that return to Egypt is blocked to you- there is no going back to what was…you have no choice but to choose the unknown and uncharted path forward…This is the journey of faith: keeping fear at bay, turning toward the horizon and wading into the unknown and unknowable next moment.” Like our Jewish brothers and sisters, we also must wade into the water. We may not know what tomorrow will bring, but we know who leads the way. In 1995, before the merger that formed Mennonite Church USA, a joint committee representing both the General Conference and the Mennonite Church, worked together to identify a vision and priorities for the church. After merger that vision became the vision for MCUSA. The vision declares, “God calls us to be followers of Jesus Christ and, by the power of the Holy Spirit, to grow as communities of grace, joy and peace, so that God’s healing and hope flow through us to the world.” This vision is an important calling. Our new Executive Conference Minister, Stanley Green, writes this in the latest PSMC e-Update: “We are the bearers of a story constructed by the unfolding of God’s purposes for the rebirth, restoration and reconciliation of all creation. To bear witness that will make a difference we must ask: How can we animate and inspire each other through the particular witness of each individual, every congregation, and as a community together for the sharing of this story in word and deed? I am committed to paying attention to what God is doing among us and to sharing the stories of the ways that we are aligning with God’s purposes in our individual lives and congregations.” I don’t presume to know the answers to all the problems that face us, things like immigration, civil rights, racism, pandemic, climate change, forest fires. But I know God goes before us and covers us and is with us. We go forward together, one step at a time, wading into the waters of life. We all know that most sports have their Hall of Fame. Hebrews 11 is my Hall of Faith. It identifies long list of people who followed God, even though they could only hope, not knowing what or where God would lead. The Israelites wading into the waters of the Red Sea are in that list: “By faith the people passed through the Red Sea as if it were dry land, but when the Egyptians attempted to do so they were drowned.” We could name many others down through the ages who belong on that list, who followed Jesus even when facing prison, fire and sword, exclusion, injustice and hate. We, too, are called to follow, to wade into the water, trusting that God will go with us and dwell among us. Hebrews 12 verses 1 and 2 declares, “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God.” So come, wade in the water. Wade in the water children. Wade in the water. God’s gonna trouble the water. We just have to take the first step, and keep going from there following where God leads.