2020.10.11 | God's Mercy
God’s Mercy
The Rev. Pepper Swanson
Today’s small slice of the Exodus story features a fearful people who go a tad crazy and make big mistake, an extremely angry God who threatens to destroy them for their mistake, a leader who bravely begs for God to change his mind and spare the people, and — amazingly to all who were ever taught that God is immutable and unchangeable — a God, our God, who changes his mind about the destruction he had planned.
Mistake, even big mistake, is probably a dramatic understatement of what the Israelites have done in Moses’ absence. Bible scholar Walter Brueggemann, labels their clamoring for, and worship, of gods, not to mention their revelry afterward, as “a crude and frontal assault on the First and Second Commandments.” As you may remember from last week’s Bible reading, the First and Second Commandments can be aptly summarized as God is the one true God, and the Israelites were not to be chasing after other gods. From God’s perspective as captured in the words of Exodus 20, the reason for their loyalty and devotion was two-fold: it was because God had delivered them from 400 years of slavery in Egypt and because God was devoted to them, pledging steadfast love for a thousand generations of those who loved & obeyed God.
The reason the people so quickly and so easily turning their back on God is a giant fear brought on by the 40-day absence of their leader Moses. After God had delivered the 10 Commandments, the other laws, and instructions to the people, he invited Moses and some others to come up to Mt. Sinai for a signing ceremony and then Moses and Joshua to come near God for further instruction on the construction of a tabernacle and the conduct of the priestly class. It’s a long class and Moses is absent from the people for 40 days.
In their fear that Moses, their human connection to the divine, would not return, the people turn to his brother Aaron and beg him to make them another, different God. He complies, collecting their gold, melting and forging a calf, and allowing the people to worship and have a rather wild, frenzied Coffee Hour afterward. Unfortunately for them, way up on Mt. Sinai with Moses, God is well aware of their traitorous conduct and immediately tells Moses that he will destroy them all, leaving Moses alone to begin a new nation.
In a rather brave speech, Moses begs God to turn from his anger, change his mind, and remember his promises, particularly his promises to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the forefathers of the Israelites, to whom God promised descendants as numerous as the stars.
Today’s reading ends with God doing as Moses begs for the sake of his previous promises and for the sake of the people. God relents, immediate destruction is avoided, and Moses begins his return to camp to sort out what the people have done.
There are those who say the God described in today’s reading is cruel and avenging, threatening destruction of the people in their fear. And there are those who place all the blame on the people because of their disloyalty and ingratitude to a faithful and merciful God. Today’s scripture reading reminds us that there is an almost constant tension in the Bible, and in our own lives, between power, punishment, and mercy.
Power — be it divine, secular, or personal — establishes the laws and the rules of society, the family, and one’s own life.
Punishment is the consequence for what is the inevitable breaking of the law or rules.
Mercy — be it divine, secular, or personal — is how we respond to those who break the laws and rules and who are punished.
Consider for a moment this modern case study of power, punishment, and mercy that is playing out in the State of Florida. You are probably aware that depending on what State you live in, committing a felony could result in a temporary or permanent suspension of your right to vote. You can also probably guess how that makes a person feel about their role in our system of government, where voting determines everything from the quality of the school your children attend to your very right to die. From 1838 to 2018, individuals convicted of felonies in Florida lost their right to vote for life. Completing their prison sentence, their parole, their probation was insufficient for restoring their fundamental right of citizenship.
Two years ago, Floridians passed a Constitutional amendment allowing felons, except those guilty of murder or sexual offense, to regain their voting rights after completing their sentence. It was estimated that 1.6 million people in Florida, roughly 8 to 10 percent of their population, would have their right to vote restored.
Then, one year ago, in 2019, the Florida State Legislature adopted legislation requiring ex-felons to pay all outstanding fees before regaining their right to vote or be punished for voting, thus creating statewide chaos and fear, as an estimated 774, 000 people sought to pay and register or simply gave up on seeking their restored rights either due to the complexity of tracking down those outstanding fees, lack of money, or fear of making another punishable error. Some claim that the Legislature’s action is blatant voter suppression, particularly aimed at black, Democratic voters, but I focus on it here as an example of how integral each of us are in public conversations about power, punishment, and mercy.
As a pastor, I am often asked about how forgiving and merciful Christians are required to be, especially to those who offend or are offensive. I find that in answering I often draw on two sources. The first, of course, is the Bible, including passages like today’s passage from Exodus, which make it clear that we’re partnered with a God who loves and forgives us, even when we make “big” mistakes like the Israelites. If we are to emulate the God of Exodus, all of our actions, including those in the voting booth and in our capacity as community leaders, should be merciful, gracious, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, faithful, and forgiving. Our goal should always be the restoration of the relationship between the person who erred and the rest of the community.
My second source is more practical: I draw on what I learned as a mother. Children break rules all the time. Heck, children do things that I didn’t even think it was necessary to have rules against, because doing those things is either dangerous or disgusting. With children, we have to acknowledge what they don’t know because of their limited experience or developmental stage. So forgiveness and mercy often comes with a little education, a lot of patience, and, once again, a focus on relationships between individuals and within the whole family. In other words, like God, you have to turn from your anger and seek out ways to teach and bridge the tension between power, punishment, and mercy.
My friends, we worship a merciful God who calls us to be merciful ourselves. We are called first and foremost to be merciful to ourselves, because each and every one of us makes mistakes both small and large. If your mistakes weigh on you, spend a little time with Exodus, exploring how often God talks big, but ultimately moves to consolidate not his power or his punishment but his relationship with the people.
And, as you examine your ballot this year, and every year, ask yourself is there, here in our state, in our nation, a way to preserve or enable relationship with those who have erred, been punished, and need now, full restoration to our community.
God calls us to be merciful in his name. The more we focus now, in this time of political chaos, on building a more just, a more merciful home, community, and nation, the more we deprive the truly abusive and merciless of their power over all of us. Amen.