Patience

The Adoration of the Golden Calf, Nicholas Poussin, Oil on Canvas, 1633-34, The National Gallery, UK, click image above to link, https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/

Sermon Series “Through the Bible,” № 13, Exodus 32:1-14

When the people saw that Moses delayed to come down from the mountain, the people gathered around Aaron, and said to him, “Come, make gods for us, who shall go before us; as for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.” —Exodus 32:1

Patience never has been one of my defining characteristics. One long-ago summer during Vacation Bible School, our craft-making involved selecting a rock about the size of your fist, gluing on butterflies or flowers, and painting on a Bible verse related to the fruits of the spirit you heard about in our first scripture reading. On my rock, I painted “the fruit of the spirit is patience.” When my mother saw it, she laughed, saying, “That’s perfect – you’re one of the most impatient children I know.” I’ve joked that the patience I was short on as a child, the Lord has given me plenty of opportunities to learn as an adult. I still confess my impatience with events taking longer than I think they should. “Lord, how long?” I ask. As we pivot and adjust to meet the challenges of a pandemic, I say frequently, “Lord, how long?”

In the history recorded in our second scripture reading, the people of Israel get tired of waiting for Moses, who is communing with God on the mountaintop. To pacify their impatience, Aaron organizes a collection of gold jewelry, and makes from the molten metal a statue of a cow, like an idol of Egyptian worship that would have been familiar to them. I don’t appreciate the appeal of the sacred calf. But I do understand the impatience of the Hebrews, waiting and waiting in the wilderness.

Just once, I’ve lost my way in the wilderness, without a GPS or a compass. I remember the sun getting low in the sky, knowing a treacherous trail was ahead, and feeling the anxiety rising. I imagine that’s how the Hebrew people felt, Egypt behind them, the Promised Land somewhere before them, the sun going down on another day without Moses leading them onward.  “… As for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.”

Pastor Rick Morley comments on how quickly the people give up on Moses. He says, “You gotta love it. ‘This Moses’ …. Maybe he just took off …. This is one of those spiritual lessons that we should have no problem identifying with. For, if there’s anything that we have a hard time with in our culture, it’s waiting …. The root of the problem in Exodus 32 isn’t idolatry. It’s patience.”[1]

If you examine your memories, then it’s likely you’ll recall times when you wanted something that took too long to arrive. Perhaps you lay in bed each night dreaming of Christmas, anticipating the special gift that you hoped you would receive. When spring days dawned sunny and warm, perhaps you counted down the days until school was out for the summer. There were special birthdays that would bring new privileges and  adventures: thirteen, sixteen, eighteen, twenty one; old enough to pierce your ears, drive a car, vote in an election, order a beer or glass of wine.  

Some of the things we most long for are not tied to a specific date on the calendar. I look in one direction, and see a couple longing for a child, wondering when the time will come when they experience the birth of a baby. In another direction is a person looking for a dream job, who can’t wait for the next career chapter to arrive. In another place is a person who has suffered a medical setback, who desperately wants the day to come when good health is restored. When things like these don’t arrive at the time we imagined they would, we feel anxious and impatient.  It’s like the old New Yorker cartoon in which a man is kneeling at his bedside with folded hands. He prays, “I asked You in the nicest possible way … but apparently You couldn’t be bothered.”[2]

Our culture’s impatience is exhibited even in subtle ways. Every neighborhood in which I’ve lived has had its share of Bradford pears and Lombardy poplars. They are swift-growing sentinels or windscreens, but prone to damage from wind, disease, and insects. In all those neighborhoods, the aftermath of every wind and ice storm has included conversations with neighbors disappointed in their soft-wooded trees. Landscaping expert Cass Peterson writes, “… Old farmhouses are screened and shaded by oaks and maples and red cedars. No feat of modern engineering can turn a Lombardy poplar into an oak. The problem is that … all of nature’s grandest trees take time.”[3] Like the oaks and maples and lindens out on the north edge of our property, nature’s grandest trees take time.

Peterson’s writing reminds me of Wendell Berry’s farming wisdom, from which some say the Church can learn important lessons. Berry describes what it’s like to be engaged in farming for the long haul: “It invariably turns out,” he says, “that one’s first vision of one’s place was to some extent an imposition on it. But if one’s sight is clear and one stays on and works well, one’s love gradually responds to the place as it really is, and one’s visions gradually image possibilities that are really in it … The good worker will not suppose that good work can be made properly answerable to haste, urgency, or even emergency.” [4] If Wendell Berry is right, then there is a kind of guidance that comes only through perseverance, never losing sight of the goal, neither artificially rushing it on.

In recent years, we Presbyterian pastors have learned to be more sensitive to the power dynamics of the call to patience.  It’s easier to wait for change if you’re well-housed, well-fed, and your cultural tribe or political party is in charge of things. But even if you’re in the oppressed minority, perhaps especially if you identify with such a group or position, waiting for God to bless the fruit of our labors is important if we’re to remain mentally and emotionally healthy. Patience is necessary so that we don’t begin to exhibit the same sort of behaviors that perpetuate injustice, extremism, and other social ills.

This morning, we ordain and install new officers. As they join the deacons or the session, they’ll be entering into a stream of ministry that has flowed in Edwardsville for nearly 203 years. They’ll become better acquainted with the way ministry priorities compete with one another, and with other priorities in their professional and personal lives. They will find that among the challenges of following God’s call is discerning which priorities must take a higher or lower place in an ever-shifting landscape. Whether it is church service, or some other important piece of our life experience, the guidance we most need comes only through prayerful perseverance, never losing sight of the goal, neither artificially rushing it on.

Today’s text from Exodus seems to me an important one from larger story of Israel in the wilderness. In recent years, I’ve come to appreciate the nuances of this larger story. It tell us that getting out of a wild and frightening place is only part of the purpose. The rest is about the character built and lessons learned as we move purposely but patiently toward God’s Promised Land.

NOTES

[1] Rick Morley, “Impatience: A reflection on Exodus 32:1-14” http://www.rickmorley.com/archives/1025?, accessed 5 Jan. 2022.

[2] J.B. Handelsman, The New Yorker, 14 Sept. 1998.

[3] Cass Peterson, “With Instant Landscaping, Beauty, Yes, but at a Price,” The New York Times, 23 Feb. 1997, Y30.

[4] Wendell Berry, “Standing By Words,” as quoted by Kyle Childress, “Good Work: Learning about ministry from Wendell Berry,” The Christian Century, 8 March 2005, p. 29.

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