Defeating Death: 16th Week of Ordinary Time

"On this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it" (Matthew 16:18)

Exodus means "departure." To make one's exodus is to leave, to begin a journey. The narrator of our story in Exodus calls the descendants of Jacob "Israelites." But here, and throughout the Old Testament, others call them "Hebrews"--"those from beyond"--outsiders, wanderers, nomads, people without a place to call their own. The people of Israel did not call themselves Hebrews. They did not want to think of themselves as homeless wanderers, even though, in one sense, that's what they were. How had their story begun? "Leave your land," God had told Abraham beside the Euphrates River in modern day Iraq. "Leave your family and your father's household for the land that I will show you" (Genesis 12:1).

And so Abraham and Sarah had made their way west to Canaan, where they had lived out their lives as "Hebrews," wandering outsiders with no land to call their own, save the burial ground that Abraham had insisted on buying from the local Canaanites when Sarah died. And so his son Isaac and grandson Jacob had remained outsiders in the eyes of the Canaanites, and the Egyptians to whom Jacob and his sons had fled during the famine.

So here they are, slaves in Egypt, who will be led out by Moses in their Exodus, or departure, from Egypt toward the promised land of Canaan. No one wants to be a Hebrew, a wandering outsider with no place to call their own. And even when you know that you're on the way to a better place, the old place can look mighty tempting when you're in between, not knowing what the new home will be like, or how much longer it will take to get there. As we follow the Israelites, more than once will we see them complain that never had it so good as when they were slaves in Egypt. But still, it's not easy to be a Hebrew, a wandering outsider, looking back in nostalgia on a place that only exists in your memories, then looking ahead of you to try and make out just one tree in the desert as a sign of water, an oasis. As "liturgical" Christians, we may feel at times like outsiders.

But we are also an oasis. We are a place of refreshment for those outsiders who need to know that they are welcomed by God in this holy place wherever they are in their spiritual wandering. We are an oasis, a place of refreshment where Jesus Christ is as close to us as the taste of bread and wine on our tongues. I give thanks for all those who have wandered in to this oasis, found refreshment and renewal, then continued on their journey. I give thanks for those who have stayed. And I give thanks for those who may yet to find their way here by God's grace.

Jesus and his disciples are wandering too. They haven't been in the Promised Land which the Israelites eventually conquered for awhile. Last week in Matthew's Gospel, they were in Tyre, on the Mediterranean coast. Today they have moved inland, but are still far away from Jerusalem. Jesus is preparing his church for life without him in the flesh. It won't be easy for his church as they wander, set down roots in one place, then be forced to uproot themselves. And the forces that will harass them are as strong as Hades.

"On this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it," Jesus promises Peter, and the church that he and the rest of the Twelve have handed down to us. Hades was the Greek god of the dead, and his kingdom in the underworld was named for him. So, death is the great enemy that struggles against the church but will not overpower or stand against it. This promise of Jesus could mean that we as a church will be able to resist the assaults of death. Or it could mean that we as a church are to storm the gates of death and defeat it. Or, perhaps, it means both, depending on where we are. Either way, death is the enemy against which we struggle and prevail. Death will neither overpower us or stand against us.

When we take bread and wine, bless it, break it and share it, while proclaiming Jesus' Resurrection, we defeat the forces of death that would sap our faith in the power of his death and rising. When we teach our children and watch them take the promises of Christ for themselves, we defeat the forces of death that would sap our hope for the future. When we commit ourselves to feeding the needy children of our schools, we defeat the forces of death that would make us complacent about the sufferings of the present. When we distribute beans and rice to those who come with whatever need they have, we defeat the forces of death who would deny the power of grace to soften their hearts, and ours as well.

This is the journey we Hebrews are on; to worship our God in the beauty of holiness and to taste and see that God is good. This is the journey we are on; to provide a place of hospitality where other seekers may ask their questions and find their answers in God's good time. This is the journey we are on; to let the kingdom of heaven be seen here and now in this world, and not be some pie in the sky that we only get when we die. That is not what Jesus means by prevailing against death. That is not the hope that kept the children of Israel from wasting away in a foreign land. Wherever we wander, God in Jesus Christ shares our setbacks, so that we are not alone in them. And wherever we wander, God in Jesus Christ is prevailing with us.