Trinity 2 2023
Exodus 19.2-8a, Matthew
9.35-10.8
As you may know. Philip and I
are very keen walkers and cyclists. Not that we necessarily walk or cycle far,
and the bikes do have electric motors, but we enjoy exploring. And that means
maps are very important to us, not just to help us find our way, but also to
point out what might be worth seeing – an intriguing place name, some historic
ruins, an ancient trackway, a bit of industrial heritage.
Human beings have always been
map readers and map makers. Aboriginal Australians made maps called Songlines by
telling stories and singing songs that traced the way through their landscapes.
They weren’t alone in that. Many cultures tell stories to account for local
features – narrative maps if you like - like the biblical story of Lot’s wife, turned
into a pillar of salt, a landmark people would have known, because she looked
back at Sodom and Gomorrah as she left it (Gen 19.26).
Medieval people drew what
they called “itinerary maps” as guides for traders and pilgrims,
which just showed the route,
rather than all the land around it – an early form of the sat nav. They also
drew maps of the world as they knew it – Mappa Mundi, as they are known –
there’s a famous one in in Hereford Cathedral. They had Jerusalem at the centre, because in their
world view that was the focal point of the world, the place of Jesus death and
resurrection. Some, like the Ebstorf map from Hanover drew the map as if it was
Jesus body. His head pokes out at the top and his feet dangle beneath it, to
emphasize the fact that the world and all it contains is made and redeemed and
exists in him.
As all those examples
suggest, maps have always been about more than simply recording a landscape or
helping people to find their way. They reflect the things that are important to
us, religious ideas, military concerns – the Ordnance in Ordnance Survey maps
refers to the fact that they were originally commissioned as maps to help with
the logistics of defending the nation, moving ordnance, weaponry, around. Maps
are drawn for a purpose, helping us to reflect on where we are, record where we
have been, navigate to where we are going, and, whether we know it or not, we
are all map makers.
We naturally talk about our
lives as a journey, and as the long history of pilgrimage shows, we often take real
journeys in the hope that they will enrich us spiritually.
The journey we hear about in
our Old Testament reading today from the book of Exodus certainly did that for
the ancient Israelites. “The Israelites had journeyed…” it begins, and
they certainly had. They had escaped from Egypt, with the Pharaoh’s armies in
hot pursuit, but then found themselves in a trackless wilderness, with only the
clothes they stood up in and the possessions they could grab at the last
minute. They had no idea where they were going, or how they would sustain
themselves along the way. But according to the Biblical account they were
guided by a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night, God gave them
manna to eat and water that gushed out of solid rock. As they travelled, they
faced all sorts of challenges together, sometimes meeting them, sometimes
failing, and gradually started to learn what it meant to be God’s people. They
were given the ten commandments that were meant to shape their life together,
so that they could be the “priestly kingdom and holy nation” God wanted
them to be once they got to the Promised Land, the land “flowing with milk and
honey”. They travelled together for forty years around this wilderness, on a
journey which, technically speaking, should only have taken a few weeks, even
going at the pace of the slowest. But the speed our bodies can travel at isn’t
necessarily the same as that of our souls. They might have been able to walk to
the Promised Land in days, but it would take forty years for them to be formed
as a community, ready to enter it, and the “map” they drew through the stories of
this time was one they returned to often.
In the passage we heard
today, God tells them to remember the journey they have taken, and in
particular to notice and remember how he has been present with them. “You
have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I bore you on eagle’ wings and
brought you to myself”.
In today’s Gospel reading
there’s another journey about to take place. Jesus sends his disciples out to
preach, teach and heal, travelling from village to village, just as he has
done. But this time they will go without him. It’s very clearly meant to be an
apprenticeship for them, a practice run for the time when he will no longer be
physically present in the world .
Their experiences will, in a
sense, create a map for them, enabling them to discover the lie of the land,
and how they fit into this landscape. Where will they struggle? Where will they
find joy? How will they keep going?
Why does Matthew think it’s
important to tell this story? Probably because the early Christian community he
writes his Gospel for is journeying through similar territory. They were trying to spread the message of
Jesus too, sometimes finding a welcome, sometimes finding apathy or even
persecution. The “map” Matthew draws as he talks about the journeys of the
first disciples, will help them, reminding them that others have been where
they are, that there will be unexpected joy to be found, and that when bad
things happen and they find they have stumbled into “here be dragons”
territory, God will still be with them, giving them the words they need.
Map makers aren’t just people
with skills in geography, people who can measure the height of hills or trace
where the rivers run to: they are people who help us to navigate the emotional
and spiritual journeys of our lives. One
of the gifts we give one another as a community of faith is that we can each
share our maps with one another. No one can make our journey for us. Often they
can’t make it with us either, but there are often people who know the lie of
the land we are going through, because they’ve been there themselves, and that
can help us find a safe route through.
So today, I wonder what your
journey through life has taught you, what’s on your map that you might be able
to share with others, the places you’ve found refreshment and help, guidance
and shelter. “You have seen…how I brought you to myself”, says God to
the wandering Israelites in the wilderness. That’s the ultimate aim of all our
journeys, to find God with us as we travel, and there at our journey’s end. How
has God brought you to himself, I wonder, so that you can “enter his gates
with thanksgiving” as the Psalm puts it? Whose maps have helped you find
him? And how might you share your map with others, as they have shared theirs with
you?
Amen
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