September 25, 2011 | 8:00 a.m.

Striking Water from Rock

Joyce Shin
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 78:1–8
Matthew 20:1–16
Exodus 17:1–7

“Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink.”

Exodus 17:6 (NRSV)

I am transformed by what I do
And no longer watch the flocks
In the night and no longer do
The bidding of Pharaoh and his court and
For all the wonders the Lord has done
This change is the most miraculous

For what I Am has asked I have done
When he said extend your hand
My hand was extended and
When he said raise your rod
It was raised and Pharaoh and his
Magicians were confounded

As I now am confounded by
The workings of my God
Who rains meat for our pots
And grows bread for our table
And pours water from the dry
Stone of the desert at my command.

Doug Tanoury
from “The Moses Soliloquy”

The story that we read today is an excerpt of a larger story of a people—the people of Israel—who spent forty years in the desert wilderness wandering from Egypt, where they were slaves, to the promised land of Canaan. The route that the Israelites were said to have taken cannot be mapped. No archaeological evidence of encampments has turned up. The area, covering 22,500 square miles, is a “windblown, sand-driven region in which rocky soil predominates” (Nahum M. Sarna, Exploring Exodus, p. xii). The sands of time have erased any of the named places identified in the biblical story of the Israelites’ wilderness journey. These sites have disappeared.

Archaeologists cannot determine the place where Moses struck water from rock. It is quite clear from the account in Exodus that the place was significant. So significant was it, that when oral traditions passed down two different names for it, the author felt compelled to include both. According to one tradition, Moses called the place Massah, which means “test,” and according to a second tradition, Moses named the place Meribah, which means “quarrel.” Verse 7 says, “He called the place Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarreled and tested the Lord, saying, ‘Is the Lord among us or not?’”

When I read this story, so well known for the miracle recounted in it, I was surprised by this verse. I was surprised to learn that the place was named not after the miracle by which Moses struck water out of rock, but rather after the Israelites’ quarreling with and testing of God. Unlike so many sacred sites that are famous for miracles, this site was significant in Israel’s psyche more for its reminder of Israel’s mistakes than for God’s miracle.

And yet the miracle God performed was quite significant. The water that God provided in the desert could not have been a mere trickle. It had to have been a mighty flow, great enough to support an entire itinerant people as well as their livestock. Anything less could not have met the genuine need of a people who would otherwise have died in the wilderness. There is no wonder why this life-saving event has been recounted generation after generation. It served as proof not only of God’s great power, but also of God’s great provision for Israel.

That God cared for Israel was, at this time in Israel’s history, still news. Chapters 3 through 15 depict God as having a close relationship with Moses but not yet with Israel. In those early chapters of Exodus, God acted on behalf of the Israelites for the sake of his promise to their ancestors—Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph—and the Israelites came to know of God’s will for them only through the message of Moses. God was working for Israel, but from a distance.

It is not until the hardships that Israel experienced in the wilderness that God began to make himself known more directly to the Israelites. Providing for them manna from heaven and water from rock, God cared directly for Israel. And though Moses still mediated messages, God drew ever closer to the Israelites, addressing them in the first person, saying, “I am Yahweh your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt”; “I am compassionate”; and “I, Yahweh your God, am a jealous God.” So when, out of real need, the people complained, saying, “Is the Lord among us or not?” they put God to the test. And here in this story, God responded with a miracle, providing the water that his people needed.

This is not the only time that the people God so loves have put God to the test and have looked for miracles as proof of God’s care and closeness. Israel is not alone in having asked, “Is the Lord in our midst or not?” Unfortunately there have been other episodes throughout human history, as well as in our personal experiences, when such questioning has legitimately arisen. And for reasons unknown to us, not every situation has been met with a saving miracle.

Disappointment can lead to the conclusion that God is not in our midst, that God is not close, that God does not care, that God is not for us.

Late in his life, the great American philosopher John Dewey, who was a professor at the University of Chicago, wrote a book called A Common Faith. To those who know of his reputation as a secular philosopher, even the title of his book may come as a surprise, for during his long life he wrote critically against what he saw as the superstition of religion. Writing this book at the end of his life, however, Dewey came to a new, religious conclusion by which, it seems, he even surprised himself. While remaining true to his earlier view that readily rids religion of things like miracles, Dewey reconsidered the necessity of a personal belief in God. He recognized the absolute importance of relating to God as one who is for us, who cares for us and is neither hostile nor indifferent to us. Dewey thought that only by relating to God personally can we approach life with a sense of confidence that God is for us.

In Exodus, the story of Israel in the wilderness is remembered not only because God performed a miracle in the wilderness, but also because the Israelites mistakenly underestimated God’s care and closeness. Named after the mistake rather than the miracle, the place name, whether Massah or Meribah, reminds God’s people that miracles are not the only proof of God’s closeness. Recognition of and repentance for one’s own mistakes are equal proof. For when we repent, God draws himself so near that he works within our consciences. Such trials of repentance are no less revelatory than the miracles God performs. Like the places that were named in the wilderness story of Exodus, these revelations in our personal lives may not leave a physical mark, but they do leave an indelible mark on our consciences, and they deserve as much remembrance. Our trials of trust in God at difficult times in our lives can be more revelatory than the miracles that do or do not resolve our times of suffering.