Forty years they had spent in the wilderness. Forty years of wandering. Forty years of struggle and revelation. Forty years of longing for the promised land.
The story of the long Exodus from Egypt — a story of liberation and of being formed by God as a people of God — is unthinkable without Moses, the child of Hebrew slaves, raised in Pharaoh’s household; the runaway who hears the call of God at the burning bush. “I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt,” the Lord said to him; “I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey.”[1]
The arc of Moses’ life bends from his birth and call in the opening chapters of Exodus, across Leviticus and Numbers, to Deuteronomy, the fifth and final volume of the Torah, consisting entirely of the teachings, poetry and blessings Moses utters on the plains of Moab, on the east bank of the Jordan river. Across the river, the promised land. But Moses wouldn’t be among those who enter it.
He used to plead with God, saying, “O Lord God, you have only begun to show your servant your greatness and your might; what god in heaven or on earth can perform deeds and mighty acts like yours! Let me cross over to see the good land beyond the Jordan ...” He was an old man, and yet he had only begun to see the mighty acts of God. He longed to see the good land and walk on it, rest on it, touch its soil with his fingers and taste its milk and honey. But God refused, and finally put an end to Moses’ entreaties, saying, “Enough from you! Never speak to me of this matter again!”[2]
And so Moses climbed the mountain one last time, and the Lord showed him the promised land, farther than the eye can see. One of the ancient rabbis suggested that Moses must have been in heaven, or at least pretty close, in order to see all of this. Other commentators thought Moses’ view was such that he was able to see through time as well as space, and that God showed him the entire history of the world, from the first day of creation to the day of resurrection.[3] “This is the land,” the Lord said to him, “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.” As the author of Hebrews said of the patriarchs, many generations after Deuteronomy, Moses “died in faith without having received the promises, but from a distance [he] saw and greeted them.”[4] From a distance he saw them, not with regret, but with joy and expectation for the next generation who with faith and courage would draw even closer to receiving the fullness of God’s promises. Moses knew that he wouldn’t taste the milk and honey, but the children born during the wilderness years and their children, they would eat and drink the fruit of the land in freedom.
The good book doesn’t say it, but I’m convinced Moses died with a smile on his face. Sweeter than honey is the word of the Lord, and the knowledge that it can be trusted — the knowledge that God will fulfill God’s promises.
On April 3, 1968, the night before he was assassinated, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke in support of the striking sanitation workers in Memphis. At the end of what would be his last speech, he said,
Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn’t matter with me now. Because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I’m happy, tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.[5]
Earlier in that speech he had talked about turning to the Almighty and saying, “If you allow me to live just a few years in the second half of the twentieth century, I will be happy.” And he added, “Now that’s a strange statement to make, because the world is all messed up. The nation is sick. Trouble is in the land. Confusion all around.”
And here we are, more than fifty years later, and the world is all messed up. The nation is sick. Trouble is in the land. Confusion all around. Dr. King said, “Only when it is dark enough, can you see the stars. And I see God working in this period … in a way that [people], in some strange way, are responding — something is happening in our world.” He had begun to see the mighty acts of God, and so he wasn’t just sitting on the top of the mountain gazing longingly across the Jordan, his heart filled with wishful thinking — he saw people responding, he saw people standing up and speaking up, he saw people marching, he saw people lining up at the bank of the river, ready to cross over into freedom — whether in Johannesburg, South Africa; Nairobi, Kenya; Accra, Ghana; New York City; Atlanta, Georgia; Jackson, Mississippi; or Memphis, Tennessee — the cry was always the same — “We want to be free.” We want to live with the dignity of people made in the image of God.
The world is all messed up. The nation is sick. Trouble is in the land. Confusion all around. But God is at work and people are responding with faith and hope and love and courage.
On July 30, the New York Times published an essay the Reverend John Lewis, Congressman from Georgia, had written shortly before his death on July 17 and had asked to be published on the day of his funeral.
While my time here has now come to an end, I want you to know that in the last days and hours of my life you inspired me. You filled me with hope about the next chapter of the great American story when you used your power to make a difference in our society. Millions of people motivated simply by human compassion … set aside race, class, age, language and nationality to demand respect for human dignity. That is why I had to visit Black Lives Matter Plaza in Washington, though I was admitted to the hospital the following day. I just had to see and feel it for myself that, after many years of silent witness, the truth is still marching on.
Emmett Till was my George Floyd. He was my Rayshard Brooks, Sandra Bland and Breonna Taylor. He was 14 when he was killed, and I was only 15 years old at the time. I will never ever forget the moment when it became so clear that he could easily have been me. … Like so many young people today, I was searching for a way out, or some might say a way in, and then I heard the voice of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. on an old radio. He was talking about the philosophy and discipline of nonviolence. He said we are all complicit when we tolerate injustice. He said it is not enough to say it will get better by and by. He said each of us has a moral obligation to stand up, speak up and speak out. When you see something that is not right, you must say something. You must do something. Democracy is not a state. It is an act, and each generation must do its part to help build what we called the Beloved Community, a nation and world society at peace with itself.
“Voting and participating in the democratic process are key,” he wrote, and his words carry the authority of one who put his body on the line for the right to vote. “The vote is the most powerful nonviolent change agent you have in a democratic society. You must use it because it is not guaranteed. You can lose it.”
In his brief essay, Lewis passes the mantle to a new generation of believers in God’s beloved community:
Though I may not be here with you, I urge you to answer the highest calling of your heart and stand up for what you truly believe. In my life I have done all I can to demonstrate that the way of peace, the way of love and nonviolence is the more excellent way. Now it is your turn to let freedom ring.[6]
It says in today’s passage from Deuteronomy, that Joshua was full of the spirit of wisdom, because Moses had laid his hands on him. This expression, “the spirit of wisdom”, occurs only three times in the scriptures: here in Deuteronomy, then again in Isaiah 11:2 where the prophet announces the coming of a righteous and faithful ruler on whom the spirit of wisdom would rest, and again in Ephesians 1:17, where the apostle writes, “I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom … as you come to know him.”
We are blessed to come from a long line of ancestors in the faith who have passed the mantle of prophetic witness from generation to generation, inspiring us with their words and actions. May God give us a spirit of wisdom that we may walk faithfully and do our part in building the Beloved Community which God has established in the world and they have seen from a distance.
[1] Exodus 3:7-8
[2] Deuteronomy 3:24-26
[3] See James Kugel, The Bible as It Was (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press, 1997), 541; as well as https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/V%27Zot_HaBerachah#Deuteronomy_chapter_34
[4] Hebrews 11:13
[5] https://www.afscme.org/about/history/mlk/mountaintop
[6] https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/30/opinion/john-lewis-civil-rights-america.html