Burning: 3rd Sunday Lent

Pop quiz from last week: In the Transfiguration in Luke 9, when Jesus was seen talking with Moses and Elijah, do you remember what they were talking about?

They were talking about Jesus’ [[[something]]] that He was going to accomplish in Jerusalem. The Greek word for that something can be translated different ways. Some English Bibles say ‘departure,’ others translate it ‘death.’ But the lectionary we hear at Mass does something wise: it simply leaves the Greek word there, untranslated:
“And behold, two men were conversing with him, Moses and Elijah, who appeared in glory and spoke of his exodus that he was going to accomplish in Jerusalem.” (Luke 9:31)
Exodus... that’s some seriously heavy context with Moses standing right there! It means a heck of a lot more than ‘departure’ or ‘death.’  Today we follow up with a story from that rich context, the Book of Exodus, chapter three. Moses — born a Hebrew, saved from infanticide, and raised in the royal family — is now in exile after defending a Hebrew kinsman. He’s making a new life for himself and doing a more than decent job of it. He’s married, working with his father-in-law; life is going on. In worldly terms it was a big step down from Egyptian royalty, and he must have missed people and things he’d left behind, but I wonder if Moses didn’t find that quiet life in Midian… really nice. An honest days’ work, a wife at home, a peaceful life.

What happens next starts with beguiling simplicity: “Moses decided, ‘I must go over to look at this remarkable sight, and see why the bush is not burned.’” Imagine the whole story of Passover and Exodus beginning with something like “huh… that’s weird… I think I’ll go check it out.” But God can speak any time in any thing. He may call out to you in a way that knocks you over, or He may call out to you in a way that makes you go ‘hmmm.’ (c.f. early 90’s theologians C&C Music Factory). Maybe that’s your prayer point for today. How is God calling out to you in your life right now? How is He trying to get your attention?

Speaking of things that make you go ‘hmm,’ there’s a cool little detail here I never noticed until this week: what was Moses doing when God spoke to him? Exodus 3:1: he was “leading the flock across the desert.” Just as Jesus spoke to some fishermen and said “I will make you fishers of men,” God spoke to Moses as if to say, “so… you’re into leading flocks through the desert, eh? Have I got a job for you.”

On a more profound note, though: God appears in a bush that burns but is not consumed. There is deep theology here about how God comes into our lives and how He interacts with His world. His presence is not overwhelming and destructive. When He comes, He does not consume. When He burns, He does not destroy. If He were in the world, other things in the world would have to yield to make room for Him. But the world is in Him. He shines, He speaks, He blazes forth at any time in any thing.

It is this mysteriousness, this transcendence that He emphasizes when Moses asks God to identify Himself. “I AM WHO AM.” As Pope Benedict XVI said, it is “at the same time a name and the refusal of a name.” God categorizes Himself as the One beyond all category. He defines Himself as the One beyond all definition.

But in all the fantastic commentary about the great Name, I AM WHO AM, I think something sometimes gets forgotten: this is not how God first identifies Himself to Moses. No, before Moses asks for a name, God identifies Himself: “I am the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob.”

God begins with relationship. He begins with human community and family. When Moses asks for a Name, he gets the mysterious I AM. But at the start, when God reaches out to Moses, and when God reaches out to us, He starts with relationship. ‘You might not know Me, Moses, but I know you, and your story is mine, and you are mine.” I wonder if this isn’t almost a plea, an invitation. When God says, “I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob,” does it imply the question, “will you let me be the God of you?”

There’s so much to pray with here! For starters, take a look around your life for a burning bush. How is God calling out to you in your life right now? Is He shouting and waving to get your attention? Is He quietly burning in the corner of your vision, waiting patiently for you to show some ambition, some curiosity, some adventurous spirit? If we take it on faith that God is active in your life, working in your life, then how is He working? That’s a great question for prayer.

Then: can you hear His invitation, His calling out to you beginning with relationship? “I know you and you are Mine. I am the God of your fathers, the God of many who came before,… will you let Me be the God of you?” What if this week we all listened for that appeal, that invitation, and spent time in prayer offering our ‘yes’?

Moses left that place with his mission. It was a hard one, hopeless in human terms. But the Moses who strapped his shoes back on and walked away from the burning bush was not the same Moses who walked up to it in curiosity. Now he, Moses, was the burning bush, burning but not consumed, all full of God but still himself more than ever. If you give God your ‘yes,’ you will be too. He will burn in you.


(O Lord my God, how You burn.)

But you will not be consumed. You will be more yourself than ever before, and you will be sent like Moses from Mt. Horeb, like the Apostles from Mt. Tabor, sent with a mission for God’s hurting people.

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