Have you ever had one of those dreams where something marvelous is about to happen, where you can just about touch it and realize it, and then suddenly the alarm goes off? You’ve won the Booker Prize or the piano concerto competition. You’re walking towards the awards platform with a huge smile on your face, and then, the alarm goes off. It's a bit like driving hours and hours in your car to Toronto for a much-needed vacation, arriving at Lake Ontario, spying the city skyline, and then realizing that you must drive another two hours around the lake to get to your destination. The goal is so close you can smell it, but you’re not quite there yet.
Can you imagine what it would have been like for Moses on Mount Nebo looking over into the Promised Land? For forty long years, he led an ornery group of people from Egypt through the wilderness to this mountain, only to die there and never enter the land himself. Scripture tells us that somehow Moses didn’t keep faith with God in the wilderness as he shepherded the Israelites into freedom. Was he so frustrated with that recalcitrant band of people that he doubted if God could bring them to the Promised Land? We don’t know, but we do know that Moses wasn’t allowed to enter the Promised Land.
Now, on the verge of the Promised Land, knowing he won’t enter, Moses gives instructions to the people he’s led all these years in the wilderness. Surely, some of them were only the ancestors of the original lot that crossed the Red Sea into freedom. So many had died on the way. How many, I wonder, died doubting whether God’s people would ever reach their destination? But finally, the remaining lot of travelers are on the verge of seeing the land of which they had long dreamed, and Moses comforts them. Remember, Moses says, if indirectly, all that your God has done for you. Remember all those things. Never forget them. And you will be fine. If you remember these things, you’ll prosper and flourish. Your God is with you.
There’s something about keeping our eyes on the prize that might motivate good behavior. But Moses knows that once the people arrive at their destination, they’ll forget. When things are going well, we usually forget to remember and be thankful. On Mount Nebo, Moses offers a humility check to the people. Remember what God has done for you, even in the best of times. Never take it for granted. Tell it to your children and to their children’s children. Never forget. They can see the Promised Land. They can almost taste its milk and honey. They’re on the border. They aren’t very far from realizing their dream. . .
Jesus and the scribe are also on a border, looking into the future. Jesus is staring his passion and death and resurrection in the face, now that he’s entered Jerusalem for the final time in triumph. The scribe approaches Jesus after he’s weathered a series of intense questionings by the chief priests, scribes, and elders. And when this scribe asks Jesus about the greatest commandment, Jesus has one eye on glory and one eye on the uncertain past, when Moses stood on Mount Nebo.
Remember, Jesus says. Remember that great commandment, which Moses gave to the people so long ago, but which everyone seems to have forgotten again. Love God. Also, love yourself, and love your neighbor. There’s nothing more important than this. If you remember one thing, remember this. You’re not far from the kingdom of God. Can’t you taste its milk and honey? Can’t you see its glory?
Here we, too, are on a border. At every Mass, it’s as if we’re on Mount Nebo with Moses and the people, looking over into the Promised Land. It’s so close we can almost touch it. Our taste buds water as we think of the milk and honey in our future. They’re so pleasing and delectable and sweet.
But perhaps this day, there’s a bitter taste that has crept into our mouths. It’s as if we’ve awoken from a bad dream. We thought we were on the verge of the Promised Land, but the alarm has gone off and we are face-to-face with reality. And while the reality might seem unprecedented, it’s really a variation on all those obstacles that confronted the people of God in their wilderness journey so many years ago.
An intractable roadblock is in the way of our journey, and we don’t know what to do. For the Israelites, they were hungry and couldn’t find food. They grumbled at Moses and God. They doubted. They gave up hope. And then they were thirsty because they had traveled for so long, and the desert was dry. And they complained again, and they blamed God. They made a golden calf because they became impatient waiting for Moses to come down from the mountain. Every time they turned around, something seemed to be in the way.
We must remember their story in relation to ours. Remember that God provided manna in the desert. Remember that God told Moses to strike the rock with his staff to provide water for the people. Remember that God forgave them and gave them the Ten Commandments again after they’d betrayed him. Remember that God never forsook his people. And he will not forsake us either.
But all around us, there’s a searing collective amnesia. We’ve forgotten what it’s like to work with one another rather than against one another. We’ve forgotten what it’s like to welcome the stranger into our midst. We’ve forgotten what it’s like to care for more than number one. We’re standing on a border, looking into a future that could be wonderful again. We can almost taste the milk and honey, but sin is in the way. We can see that it’s nothing new under the sun. Proud stubbornness. Willful obstinacy. Closed-minded tribalism. Rampant violence. Hateful speech. They’re back, and we seem helpless before them. Has God forsaken us? Will we die in the wilderness without ever seeing the Promised Land again?
So, like the scribe coming to Jesus amid conflict and argumentative rancor, we come to Jesus this day and ask, we plead before God’s altar, which commandment is the first of all? And the risen Christ says, don’t you remember? Remember now with me. Love God. Love self. Love neighbor. Nothing is more important than this. And if we realize that, we won’t be far from the kingdom of God.
And what a gift this is, because remembering is something we can do. It’s an act of the will, and it should arouse our hope. So, we remember. We remember that our ancestors in faith saw themselves as part of the human family. They provided hospitality for the stranger. They didn’t reap the harvest of their lands to the edges; they left what was on the border for the needy. We remember that when our ancestors in faith were slaves in Egypt, Pharaoh’s cruel oppression couldn’t withstand God’s compassionate liberation. We remember that when our forebears in faith were weeping in Babylon with no song to sing, God brought them back to their native land to sing once again. We remember that when humanity had forgotten to remember once again, God sent his only Son to embody in human flesh the meaning of the great commandment that we should never forget. Love God. Love self. Love neighbor. It’s one commandment. Remember it, and you won’t be far from the kingdom of God.
At this moment in time, it’s almost painful to remember. The kingdom of God seems at once so near and yet so far away that we’re prone to lose hope. The solution seems so simple. Love God. Love self. Love neighbor. And yet, we know it’s so very difficult.
It's so hard to maintain our faith during times like these. But the only way to conquer despair is to regain hope by remembering. Remember that great commandment that the Lord God gave us so long ago. Here, on the border, as we can smell the milk and honey of that Promised Land, remember what God has told us in Jesus. Love God. Love self. Love neighbor. Teach this to your children. Talk about it always in your house and outside your house. Remember it before bed and when you rise in the morning. Bind these beautiful words on your person by living them out. Write them on the walls of your homes and on your doorposts. Write them on your lives. Never forget them. And then remember, that although the kingdom of God at times seems so very far away, if we hope and pray and, above all, love as Jesus tells us, we’re not so very far from the kingdom of God. It’s just on the other side.
Sermon by Father Kyle Babin
The Twenty-fourth Sunday after Pentecost
November 3, 2024