Deuteronomy 26:1-11
If you think about it, the Old Testament reading appointed for today may seem a bit odd for the first Sunday in Lent. It is celebratory and full of thanksgiving for the gift of the Promised Land. But it comes right after the people of Israel have spent 40 years in the wilderness. Today’s Gospel is about Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness. That is the connection.
The reading from Deuteronomy describes a worship service that became an annual event in the lives of the early Hebrew people. The celebration of the Feast of Weeks, a summer harvest festival, filled with thanksgiving for the bounty of the Promised Land.
And Deuteronomy includes specific instructions for a creed that the people were to recite at this worship service.
A wandering Aramean was my ancestor; he went down into Egypt and lived there as an alien, few in number, and there he became a great nation, mighty and populous. When the Egyptians treated us harshly and afflicted us, by imposing hard labor on us, we cried to the Lord, the God of our ancestors; the Lord heard our voice and saw our affliction, our toil, and our oppression. The Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with a terrifying display of power, and with signs and wonders; and he brought us into this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. So now I bring the first of the fruit of the ground that you, O Lord have given me.
Biblical scholars call this a creed, although it may sound different from the creeds you are used to. The things we call creeds, like the Nicene Creed, are theological statements of belief. This creed is expressed in terms of experience, of history, rather than theology. It speaks of what God does. And it describes a very specific history. Jacob is the wandering Aramean and God’s liberation of the people is the Exodus. As a creed, rather than saying, “I believe in God who brings liberation to people,” it says, “the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand.” Both of these statements speak of the same God with the same attributes, but the Deuteronomic creed describes that God in terms of actions within history. Both affirm a God who liberates people from bondage, but Deuteronomy expresses that belief, that creed in language that is concrete and personal.
How might we recite a similar creed? A creed based on historical experience rather than theological belief?
I had fun thinking about how my personal creed might go: A wandering Norwegian was my ancestor. And he left his homeland to come to South Dakota, a land definitely not flowing with milk and honey. But you, Lord, were with him and helped him persevere to build a new life in this new land. God was there in a historical event.
This is my personal story, and we are sometimes encouraged, as Christians, to write our personal spiritual autobiographies. It’s a helpful process… to look for those specific events in your individual life in which you felt God was present. Each of us has our own individual story, as unique as we are different as individuals. But the Deuteronomic creed is not an individual creed; it is a peoples’ creed.
So, if we were to write our common creed as Episcopalians, it might begin: A bawdy king was my ancestor (Henry VIII). He was faithful, but coveted power. But you, O Lord, heard the people of his realm who called out for reform and you came to them, guiding and inspiring them for the renewal of your church.
Or if we were to write our creed as Christians, as part of the great and glorious Body of Christ, how might it go? Peter was my ancestor. The faithful bumbler. Or Paul. The firebrand and converter. The disciples are our ancestors… You came to be with them, to share their lives, to share our lives. You were with us to feed us when we were hungry; you were with us to teach us and to help us when we were in doubt; you were with us to touch us when we needed healing. Those stories in Scripture are our stories, our history, of God with us.
Every Sunday we say the Nicene Creed, a theological affirmation of our belief. We also hear a historical creed like the Deuteronomic one, an affirmation of God’s presence and action in our history, in the Eucharistic prayer. It is more than a formula of consecration of bread and wine, it is a description of shared sacred history. As you hear that prayer today, think of the “us” as the people of this congregation. We are the people created by God in his image. We are the ones with whom he broke bread. We are the people saved by his death. This historical events are the events of our salvation.
And, remember, our story of God with us, God saving and healing us, does not end with the last supper. It is an ongoing story of God’s life shared with ours. Whenever two or three are gathered—every time since Jesus resurrection—God has been with us. For the early Hebrews, the primary story of history was the power of the God’s hand saving his people in the Exodus. That is our story, too, but for us as Christians, the primary story of God with us is the intimacy of Communion. God sharing our lives with us and inviting us to share God’s life with him.
But in the historic events that tell of God’s presence with us continue after the Last Supper. There are the early councils, the Reformation, the establishment of the American church, the founding of this parish. All of these are events in a history that speaks to “God with us.”
God with us. Not somebody else. Us.
This is our story, the history of our experience of God. In the plural. This our common story. I find that powerful and reassuring… to think of this as a common history of which I am a part. It’s much bigger than me. This history is full of all those events experienced by thousands of Christians who knew that God was with them. That’s the story. That’s the creed. Which means that even on the days when your belief is in tatters, God is still with us. God is with us. That’s the story that our history tells. Even on the days when you cannot imagine God anywhere near you, we have innumerable stories from our Christian history of events when God is with us.
God is with us. God is with us. That is our creed… the experience of our history. God is with us.
