Even Moses Was a Basket Case

Scripture Lessons: Exodus 1: 8 – 2: 10 and Romans 12: 1-8 Sermon title: Even Moses Was a Basket Case Preached on October 16, 2022 One of my favorite pictures of my dad with our two daughters is one of all three of them in the kitchen rolling out yeast rolls, my grandmother’s recipe. In the picture, my dad is smiling, Lily and Cece are wearing aprons. Too little to reach the countertop, the girls are standing on chairs to roll, cut, and fold the dough. Flour is in the air and on their faces. My dad, who mastered the art of his mother’s yeast rolls, is passing the technique down to them. That’s a special thing to do. It makes those rolls more special to me than they were already. My grandmother made them for me when I was little, so I remember eating them. She liked to make them for me because I hummed while I ate them. I enjoyed them that much, and I remember her making them in her kitchen. There was something about the flour in the air that dried out her nose, so she’d stick Kleenex up each nostril. Even though she’s been gone for nearly 30 years now, I can see her in the kitchen with Kleenex up her nose making me her famous yeast rolls, and now my dad teaches our daughters how to make them. Isn’t that wonderful? It is to me. To me, it’s wonderful to remember the people who fed me, raised me, made me who I am, who loved me into existence, and to feel connected to them even though I can’t call them on the phone or hold their hands any longer. More than that, it feels wonderful to me to connect our girls to someone they never even met. My grandmother’s name, the one who first made the yeast rolls, is Lilly. Lilly Sibley Evans. Whose names would you remember no matter how many years it’s been? What still connects you to them? Is there a recipe that lives on in your kitchen, or a sweater that you can’t let go of even though it’s full of holes? None of us was born complete. We were all knit together by loving hands. We were all born helpless, and even now, all of us are falling and trying and stammering and failing. Who picked you up, brushed you off, and offered you grace? Who wiped your tears, fed you a yeast roll, and helped you get back up again? What was her name? Whose name would you remember no matter how many years it’s been, and what is it that still connects you to him? For Moses, there were five women. We remember them all in the first chapters of the book of Exodus. This book was written in the time of pharaohs and pyramids, yet the names of those who loved Moses into existence have not been forgotten. No matter how many years it’s been, when we read the book of Exodus, we remember that even Moses was a basket case, fed, loved, raised, defended, and loved into existence. Even Moses was a basket case. I saw that on a bumper sticker, and I’ve never forgotten it because it’s true. Moses didn’t get anywhere on his own. We think of him as a hero of the faith, but the Bible remembers five women who made him who he was. No doubt, the names of many women who should be included in the Bible have been lost but consider this miracle: The book of Exodus in our first Scripture lesson refuses to tell us Pharaoh’s name. Still, to this day, we’re not sure which pharaoh the book of Exodus is referring to. In The 10 Commandments with Charlton Heston, it’s Ramses, but that’s Hollywood and not the Bible. The Bible doesn’t remember Pharaoh’s name; however, we know exactly who was there as Moses was born. We remember their names: Shiphrah and Puah. They’re right there in the Bible. When the king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, one of whom was named Shiphrah and the other Puah, “When you act as midwives to the Hebrew women, and see them on the birthstool, if it is a boy, kill him; but if it is a girl, she shall live,” the midwives did not do as the king of Egypt commanded them. They saved Moses when he was helpless. He couldn’t save himself. No one can. Shiphrah and Puah saved him. More than that, once he’s grown too big or gotten too loud for his mother to hide safely, she put him in a basket, and placed it among the reeds on the bank of the river. Even Moses was a basket case, but he was loved into existence by two midwives and his mother. Then, as he floated in the water, his sister stood at a distance to see what would happen to him. Pharaoh’s daughter came down to the river to bathe. She saw the basket among the reeds, saw the child, and wanted to keep him. Moses’s sister suggested to Pharaoh’s daughter, “Shall I go and get you a nurse from the Hebrew women to nurse the child for you?” and so, Moses and his mother were reunited. Because of this story, I imagine that every time he saw a basket, Moses said to whoever was around, “My mother saved me by putting me in one of those. I was a basket case, but five women saved me.” Who saved you? Whose names would you remember no matter how many years it’s been, and what connects you to them still today? Last Sunday, I saw it happen when I gave blood in the Red Cross Blood Drive in Holland Hall. Joanne and Jim MacDonald always joke about this. In-between services, time is short, so they let me skip the line. They give me so much special treatment so I can donate before the 11:00 service starts. Then, after I donate, they make me sit and drink water and eat Cheez-Its, always saying, “We can’t have the pastor passing out in the pulpit.” I always say the same thing: “If I do, one of you has to preach.” We said all that last Sunday like we always do. Then, one of them pointed out Julia Rutledge. She was standing by, ready to donate, though she hadn’t given blood since her girls were born. Her father, Tim Hammond, donated blood at every blood drive we ever had. Last Sunday, Tim wasn’t here to donate. Julia was. Whose names would you remember no matter how many years it’s been, and what do you do that reminds you of how you will always be connected to them? The Apostle Paul was right. As he wrote in our second Scripture lesson, we are “one body. Not all the members of the body have the same function,” and not all the members who were here when we first began can we still see so clearly, but we are still connected. What do you do to remember that connection? Do you bake yeast rolls? Do you donate blood? What do you do that reminds you of how connected we all are? This week, our connection became so obvious because I heard this story. I lived part of it, but I had to hear the rest. It started when I was sitting in Kat Cherches’ barber chair, talking to the man who was waiting. He was a pilot during the Vietnam War, he told us. He’s been going to Kat’s shop for years, but this was the first time I’d met him. Kat told him that I was her preacher and that he should come to our church sometime soon. He said he hadn’t been to church in years, but he’d think about it. Then, I got up from the chair to pay, only the Internet was down, so the credit card reader wasn’t working. I didn’t have any cash. This man I had just met paid for my haircut. I told him I was grateful. He told me he’d think about coming to church sometime so he could collect on the loan. The next Saturday, this same man was in Home Depot, but he forgot his reading glasses, so he was holding a jug of pesticide right up to his face, trying to read the label. An important member of our church, Clyde Grant, saw him and asked him if he needed any help. Clyde read the label and helped him find the right pesticide. The man asked Clyde if he’d been in the service. He told Clyde he seemed like a service-oriented man. Clyde has been in the service. He’s a navy veteran. They swapped stories and talked about memories that are hard to forget. The man said it felt good to talk about these things. Not everyone understands. Clyde said he sometimes talks with his pastor about it and said his pastor’s name is Joe Evans. The man said, “I just paid for his haircut,” and “It looks like God is trying to tell me something.” God is trying to tell us something. God is trying to tell us all something. We are connected, to the living and to the dead. “We, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another,” but what do we do, in a world of division, discord, isolation, and individualism to remind us of how connected we all are? The Israelites, every year, long after Moses was gone, took the first fruits of the year at harvest time and went to the temple priest, declaring to him: 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. What’s more, do you know what they put their first fruits in? A basket. Moses was a basket case. We are all basket cases, but we will make it if we stay connected. What do you do to remind you of that? Next Sunday, I’ll take this pledge card, and I’ll fill it out, making a commitment to God, giving back a portion of what He provided, just as my foremothers and forefathers in the faith have done. When I do, I’ll remember that when my ancestors were afflicted by hard labor and harsh treatment, we called out to the Lord, the God of our ancestors; the Lord heard our voice and saw our affliction, our toil and our oppression. And He raised up a basket case named Moses, who led us out of Egypt, following God’s mighty hand and outstretched arm. Years later, God appointed a woman named Lilly Sibley Evans to make me yeast rolls. They were so good I hummed when I ate them, and she is still with me. When we moved to Marietta, here was this church, formed by 12 members in 1835. They are my ancestors. God has been faithful to us, so I will be faithful to Him. What about you? Are you in? Are you all in?