Sermon 9/6/20: What plagues you? (Pr. Craig Mueller)

Pr. Craig Mueller

Lectionary 23a

September 6, 2020

What plagues you?

Strictly speaking the coronavirus is not a plague. Whereas covid19 is caused by a virus, the plague is called by bacteria. As in the bubonic plague, the so-called Black Death that killed a quarter of Europe’s population in the 1300s.

Yet “plague” can also mean an epidemic disease that causes high mortality. Or figuratively it can mean any widespread calamity or evil. So we could say, we’re living the plague of our lifetime.

Plague is a verb too. It means to cause worry or distress. We are plagued by so many things today that I don’t even know where to begin. Our worlds have been shaken. Things seem to be unraveling and getting worse day by day. We dread the election and fear the results, whatever the outcome. It’s hard to watch the news. It’s hard to have hope. Though the great losses we are facing link us to human suffering through the ages and around the world today, we are still plagued with shock, exceptionalism, privilege. How can this be happening to us? 

We know about plagues from the book of Exodus. How tidy that we skipped from the dramatic burning bush account last Sunday to the institution of the Passover today. And a lot of chapters about plagues! In between is the power struggle between Moses and an unstable, unpredictable, threatened ruler—Pharaoh. (Some things never change.)

And at the heart of the story: the Hebrews who are oppressed under the heavy load of slavery. Time after time, Moses pleads with the Pharaoh to let his people go. Then there is a plague designed to break him down. But each time his heart hardens. And he denies Moses’ request.

Can you name some of the ten plagues? I’m not sure what score I would get. Water turning to blood, frogs, lice, flies, livestock pestilence, boils, hail, locusts, darkness, and the killing of the firstborn children.

The tenth plague is the killer. Literally. The angel of death sweeps through the night, killing the firstborn of the powerful Egyptians. But the Hebrews are spared. The doorposts are marked with the blood of a lamb. The angel of death is eerily portrayed in the movie The Prince of Egypt. You hear wailing. And then in a surprising scene, you see Moses weeping. As one writer put it, “the hand of God and nature is both reassuring and terrifying.”

Yet must there be such death and suffering to bring about liberation? One rabbi writes about being plagued by the plagues. Despite silly songs in Passover seders about frogs in Pharaoh’s bed, we must deal with the text’s assertion that God hardened Pharaoh’s heart, she asserts. If God was going to liberate the people with signs and wonders, must it be at the expense of others, such as the death of the firstborn Egyptians? (Ellen Weinberg Dryfus).

At Passover seders today, as the ten plagues are ticked off, each person spills a drop of wine on the plate ten times. The joy of liberation is tempered because it came at the expense of the suffering and death of others. There are bitter herbs to signify the bitterness of slavery. The matza is called the bread of affliction.  The Hebrew slaves were to eat the unleavened bread hurriedly. There was a sense of urgency. 

Of course, Jesus’ last supper was a Passover meal in the synoptic gospels. There are many connections between Passover and eucharist. Lamb. Blood. Wine. Bread. Firstborn son. Deliverance from bondage and death. Remembrance. The past becoming present. The promise of the future. 

There is an urgency to the times we are living. There is an urgency to Passover. There is an urgency to communion. There is bitterness and joy. The night is far gone, the day is near. Salvation is at hand. Deliverance is at hand. Freedom is at hand.

Here’s the twist. Maybe God’s ultimate purpose wasn’t just the physical liberation of the slaves, but the spiritual liberation of Pharaoh from his delusion of total power. Empires are prone to illusions of omnipotence. As Harvey Cox notes, it takes a lot to shake pride and complacency on a grand scale. History teaches us that. Empires rise. Empires fall. Maybe we are living some of that today.

The plagues were designed to bring Pharaoh to his knees. That he might realize the limits of his power. The plagues of our time bring us to our knees as well. Like an addict who hits bottom. Like someone at the end of their rope.  For then there is a spiritual opening. A trust in God or some higher power or presence. Calling us to the reconciliation Jesus speaks about in our gospel. Calling us to fulfill the commandments through love as Paul writes about in our second reading. Calling us to be signs of justice and mercy.

For where two or three are gathered, Jesus says, I am there among them. One, two, or three. Or more. 

In our homes or in this place. Around computers. Around a table. Filled with both memory and hope. Amid all the things plaguing us, bringing us down, bursting our illusions, Christ is here among us.

The Risen One comes to us in bread and wine. God’s grace for us this day. A meal of liberation. A feast of freedom. A sacrament of hope.