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Moses Dies and Is Buried in the Land of Moab
34 Then Moses went up from the plains of Moab to Mount Nebo, to the top of Pisgah, which is opposite Jericho, and the Lord showed him the whole land: Gilead as far as Dan, 2 all Naphtali, the land of Ephraim and Manasseh, all the land of Judah as far as the Western Sea, 3 the Negeb, and the Plain—that is, the valley of Jericho, the city of palm trees—as far as Zoar. 4 The Lord said to him, “This is the land of which I swore to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, saying, ‘I will give it to your descendants.’ I have let you see it with your eyes, but you shall not cross over there.” 5 Then Moses, the servant of the Lord, died there in the land of Moab, at the Lord’s command. 6 He buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, opposite Beth-peor, but no one knows his burial place to this day. 7 Moses was one hundred twenty years old when he died; his sight was unimpaired, and his vigor had not abated. 8 The Israelites wept for Moses in the plains of Moab thirty days; then the period of mourning for Moses was ended.
9 Joshua son of Nun was full of the spirit of wisdom because Moses had laid his hands on him, and the Israelites obeyed him, doing as the Lord had commanded Moses.
10 Never since has there arisen a prophet in Israel like Moses, whom the Lord knew face to face. 11 He was unequaled for all the signs and wonders that the Lord sent him to perform in the land of Egypt, against Pharaoh and all his servants and his entire land, 12 and for all the mighty deeds and all the terrifying displays of power that Moses performed in the sight of all Israel.
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The Greatest Commandment
34 When the Pharisees heard that he had silenced the Sadducees, they gathered together, 35 and one of them, an expert in the law, asked him a question to test him. 36 “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” 37 He said to him, “ ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ 38 This is the greatest and first commandment. 39 And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ 40 On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.”
The Question about David’s Son
41 Now while the Pharisees were gathered together, Jesus asked them this question: 42 “What do you think of the Messiah?[a] Whose son is he?” They said to him, “The son of David.” 43 He said to them, “How is it then that David by the Spirit[b] calls him Lord, saying,
44 ‘The Lord said to my Lord,
“Sit at my right hand,
until I put your enemies under your feet” ’?45 “If David thus calls him Lord, how can he be his son?” 46 No one was able to give him an answer, nor from that day did anyone dare to ask him any more questions.
Do you have a comfort show? One that you could watch over and over again and never get tired of? One that you know episodes worth of dialogue for? Growing up, the show that my parents would watch over and over again was West Wing, the drama that takes viewers inside the depths of the White House, depicting what the inner workings of the American government might look like under the administration of Martin Sheen (as president Jedediah Bartlet). I want to be clear, my parents did, and do, watch other shows. But West Wing has always been a favorite. Each episode, we're taken through whatever the issue of the day was. Hostage negotiations, midterm elections, government shutdowns. President Bartlet navigates each of these situations along with his staff and advisors, meeting with the Joint Chiefs, members of the opposition in Congress, and various experts, lobbyists, and interest groups. All the while, the staff shows off how qualified they all are by exchanging witty banter and firing retorts back and forth about policy decisions and political maneuvering. Not every problem that’s encountered can be solved, but you can rest assured knowing that there will always be a lesson—or a way of setting up another episode’s plot down the road. At the end of many of these episodes, regardless of whether the desired outcome was reached, President Barlet debriefs in the oval office with his staff before moving onto the next situation by saying “alright, what's next?”
This is the beginning of a season of remembering where we have been as a faith community. It's a time to remember some of what has made Fairport United Methodist Church who we are today. We remember that this is not a church tied to a particular time, but rather a community that has existed across centuries, meeting the needs of the time and building hope for the years to come. We remember that this is a community that is not bound to a particular place, but one that has gathered and loved in many spaces. Whether it was the homes of the first members, the inn down the street, the Universalist church where we first rented space, the original building that stood on this spot, or the building we sit in now—this is a community that has not let affection for buildings stand in the way of its ministry. When a space became too small or was no longer meeting the needs of the people gathering here, that building was left behind. When buildings needed to be expanded or torn down and replaced, that is what happened. In that history is revealed a God who is not bound to one spot, who cannot fit in a box of any size, shape, or adornment. In that history is revealed a God who is found wherever two or three are gathered. Thanks be to God for a love and call that is so deep and wide that it has pursued us, even across the last 150 years—from generation to generation, from place to place.
We remember, also, that this is not a community that is linked to a particular person. There have been saints and leaders over the years. There have been those who have offered their homes, their time, their financial gifts, their physical labor, and their loving presence to the ministry of this household of faith. From the first years of this community, when the Greene family would host traveling preachers in their home so often, their house became known as Greene’s Methodist Hotel. Or when the women of the church would walk around the village recruiting children for the Sunday School (I think our Safe Sanctuaries training says not to do that anymore). There are those who have led from the pulpit, and those who have led from the pews. The pastors listed in the bulletin, and all those ministers whose names could not fit in one place. For 150 years, people both named and unnamed in our records have sought to love God and neighbor as well as they possibly could. That is the story of this community that we have inherited. That is the call that we share with those who have come before us in each generation—not to claim some spirit of fear that God has not given us, but to let our love shine and shine brightly. This has never been the venture of a single person, place, or time. The only constants in this community have been that we are a people on the move, and that God has walked with us this far. We have been journeying for generations, passing the mantle from one to another. We have no destination, only a commandment to live into the kind of community that we are called to be.
Remembering the past is not about going back. We are not going to long for a rose-colored past, for the days when the pews were fuller on Sunday morning, when there were more pastors, when mission and ministry looked grander. Remembering the past is about recalling who we have been and what makes us who we are. We are a people that has never stayed in one place.
At a time when fewer than 10 percent of United Methodist clergy were women, a woman was appointed to serve here - and led this congregation for three decades. At a time when no other United Methodist Churches in western New York were willing to publicly affirm the sacred worth of queer people, this church made that affirmation. When women were still denied the right to vote, the women of this church (and a handful of men) lent support to the movement to change that. When Jim Crow was the law of the land, it was John W. Parker, a formerly-enslaved Black barber, who helped finance the construction of the first church building that housed this community, and whose family served as leaders of this congregation. This is a community of people who have never been content to simply say that God is love without proving that to be true. Now is a season to remember that, to call that memory into the present. Now is a season to look back at those stories, to visit them but not to stay. Because now is also the time to take what we know about ourselves and the legacy of faith that resides here and say, “alright, what’s next?”
Some may say that our glory days are behind us. Perhaps the Israelites, too, thought that their glory days were behind them. Especially with Moses gone, how could anyone take his place? How could they go on? How could anyone live up to the example Moses had set? But there's a mistake in thinking that the glory days are behind us, or that there are glory days at all. Because the life and ministry of the community is in traveling, together, through the wilderness. That is the task, not just of those who came before, but of each generation. It is the task not only of Moses and those who remember him, but also of Joshua, and those who join the journey in each generation. As we look behind us, we may do so with fondness. We may do so with nostalgia. We can remember our younger days, times when life together was fulfilling. And we can, and absolutely should, remember the saints who are no longer present among us. As long as all we’re doing in this season is visiting. As long as what we’re doing in this season is remembering how we have loved in the past, and considering how we might love today. 150 years ago today, this community started journeying together. 150 years. That's a lot of Christmases and Easters. That's a lot of baptisms and weddings and confirmations. It's a lot of funerals. It's 150 years of saints, of children, of music, of eating and serving together. 150 years of working for justice for our neighbors and learning what it means to serve and be served. 150 years of passing the mantle of the journey from generation to generation. 150 years of learning how to love God and neighbor, faithfully and fully. Now is the moment, now is the season to look back on how far we have journeyed. It's a season to reflect on who we have been. But, it’s also the time for us to come together and ask: “alright, what’s next?” May it be so. Amen.