Freedom

Sermon

“Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”

What does freedom mean to you?

During my formative college years, adult Congressmen spent significant time debating whether Congress should change their cafeteria menu to say “Freedom Fries.” So forgive me for having a little cynicism about freedom.

The truth is, though, freedom is one of those concepts that has power, that can motivate people to move mountains and act. Freedom is so central to the story America tells itself. People put on military uniforms to fight for freedom, go out into the streets and shout about freedom. Freedom has a wide range of meaning, from the freedom we consumerists have to choose from 30 different brands of cereal in the supermarket to the freedom of the asylum seeker holding desperately to their child as they travel thousands of miles to escape violence and war.

I’ve been meditating a lot on freedom recently. Most immediately, I’ve been thinking about it as we come tomorrow on Juneteenth, the day that African Americans have celebrated for years as the culmination of the Black-led movement to free themselves from white slavery, and only in the last couple of years recognized as a national holiday. I’ve been thinking about a country that wrote about freedom in its founding documents but tore living, breathing human beings from their homeland and put beautiful souls in cold metal shackles, sold mothers and fathers on boxes like cattle. At the same time I’ve been thinking about Nikole Hannah-Jones with the 1619 project writing how Black people have been the “perfectors of American democracy.” She writes, “despite being violently denied the freedom and justice promised to all, black Americans believed fervently in the American creed. Through centuries of black resistance and protest, we have helped the country live up to its founding ideals. And not only for ourselves — black rights struggles paved the way for every other rights struggle, including women’s and gay rights, immigrant and disability rights…  No one cherishes freedom more than those who have not had it.”

“Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”

One of the central motivating fires for these Black freedom movements has been today’s Biblical story and the larger narrative arc of God’s people freeing themselves from slavery. It is important to dwell on the fact that one of the central stories of the whole Bible is enslaved people freeing themselves from their chains. I’ve had entire seminary classes and books of theology that skip over the Exodus story, that the Bible is Adam and Eve, then some stuff happened, then Jesus saved us from Adam’s sin. But the memory of Moses and the Exodus echoes throughout the entire Scripture arc, taking up most of the original Torah, repeated over and over again as to why God’s people are in the promised land then exiled, echoed in the Psalms. And in the New Testament, Jesus is clearly depicted as the new Moses; the Last Supper is the new Passover meal; multiple people are named Mary, which is a variation of Moses’ sister Miriam; and on and on.

Is it surprising that enslaved African Americans found meaning in the Exodus story that the white master’s religion could not see, that my alma mater Princeton Seminary, whose own race audit found that much of its initial wealth came from slave money, might have incentive to overlook Exodus?

This Biblical centrality of the Hebrew people being freed from their chains should inform what our faith is about. The Christian God is concerned with freedom from chains. Literal freedom from chains. And if we’re going to spiritualize it, the next layer would be freedom from forces and systems and spirits that would oppress. That’s why the poor and oppressed take up many words of the Psalms, the prophets, Jesus announcing in his ministry, “let the oppressed go free.” And then a layer in that, more general spiritual freedom.

The three women in our Bible story today each found their call in the larger freedom movement of their people. Pharoah declares that all Hebrew boys should be murdered, thrown into the river. Which, sidenote, did you ever think about how Pharaoh murdering the children of his slave workforce is not only cruel but stupid? That’s your workforce. It reminds me about how Heather McGee writes about the last few decades; a movement of white folks didn’t like Black people at public swimming pools so much that their solution was to close public swimming pools so that NO one could have pools. One of the lessons here is that oppression is not only cruel, but really stupid, and it actually hurts even the privileged.

So amid Pharaoh’s genocide of Hebrew children, the Bible depicts these women down at the waters.

Moses’ mother, unnamed here but named in the Bible as Jochebed, is described as calling her baby “fine,” using the same Hebrew word in Genesis for creation being deemed “very good.” She hides him for three months, defying Pharoah’s orders. Then she weaves a beautiful papyrus basket and places the boy in the river, riding down the river like Noah’s Ark over the waters, also clearly evoking the parting of the Red Sea that would lead the Hebrews to freedom. There then we meet Miriam, Moses’ sister, the only person other than Moses in the entire Exodus story named as a prophet, eyeing a way to keep this baby alive.

And there bathing at the river is Pharaoh’s daughter, who sees the baby and makes the choice to defy her own father’s wicked stupidity. Miriam takes the opportunity to scheme—“Hey, I know someone from the Hebrew people who could nurse the child,” who would be the baby’s own mother. Pharaoh’s daughter knowingly goes along with the plan, pays Moses’ mom to care for him, and then chooses to take him in as an Egyptian.

These three women scheme and hustle in the baptismal waters of freedom amid the oppressive spirits of Pharaoh and his forces. “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”

These ancient Scriptures point to the deep truth of the living waters of freedom flowing throughout history. This Divine Spirit of the Exodus story, the God of love, moving throughout the world, toward all people being freed from our chains. Where do you find yourself amid the moving waters of freedom? In the language of baptism, what is your call in this?

Of these women, I find Pharaoh’s daughter the most interesting, and perhaps the most relevant to Westminster Presbyterian. What is the call of mostly white, mostly middle- to upper-class Westminster in the larger God movement of freedom? Pharaoh’s daughter is not the main character, she’s not of the people immediately in chains. But Pharaoh’s daughter makes a moral choice to go toward the flow of freedom’s waters rather than the oppressive dam of Pharaoh’s rules. It’s also a choice that probably reflects the impact we are likely to have in our everyday lives. Most of the time, the impact you have is not about huge gestures but the choice to help this person at this moment, the choice to listen to someone speaking their truth, the choice to give money to this organization, the choice to apologize to this specific person.

Pharoah’s daughter is also making a moral choice within the bounds of her own privilege. She doesn’t immediately try to free all Israelites from their chains—does she actually have the power to on her own? But, within the complexities, perhaps imperfectly, she chooses helping Miriam and the baby. And in that choice she finds freedom.

What if breaking from Pharaoh’s way of isolation and selfishness is freedom for you? What if your first choice, before any action, is to surrender to the Spirit, to remember your baptism, to make the leap of faith and dive deeper into a relationship with God? I am absolutely convinced that if you truly dive deeper with the Spirit, you necessarily feel the call toward the Spirit’s freedom movement. When you dive into the waters of baptism, you sense in a deeper way the inner connectedness of us all, that we are all in Christ, and therefore our destinies are connected with one another. That, to quote the adage, none of us are truly free until we are all free. And that being a part of the freedom from chains of all is actually more freeing than any benefits you get from Pharaoh’s ways.

I attended a conference recently at First Presbyterian Church Charlotte. It dates back to 1821. It’s a huge, beautiful church building with a literal chandelier in the sanctuary. But then, during the conference, the head pastor of the church told a story. There’s a sister congregation, First United Presbyterian Church, all Black. And the story FPC Charlotte told themselves about First United is that the session decided the Black folks wanted to start their own congregation, and FPC Charlotte blessed it. Well, in the last few years of the Black Lives Matter movement, First United called for FPC Charlotte to actually look at its history. Turns out that Black folks did originally worship at FPC Charlotte. In the slave quarters in the basement. Then Black folks wanted to worship in the sanctuary, but the white folks didn’t like that, so they were forced to worship in the balcony. That lasted only a few years until the Black folks were kicked out. Thus the formation of First United Presbyterian.

FPC Charlotte and First United have been having difficult talks the last few years as to what repair and reconciliation would look like. It’s been a difficult road, starting with an official apology, some joint worship services and financial restitution, but no clear solutions. FPC Charlotte was the first to say they’re not perfect, but they’re trying. I’m someone who is very interested in how place affects life, so I asked about what it’s like to be in the building today. A member of all-black First United said to look up at the balcony feels like being haunted by ghosts.

What is freedom for FPC Charlotte? Would it have been ignoring the truth of its history and maintaining the false story that it told itself, and not have to dig into its systems and disrupt its finances and risk tarnishing its reputation? What is freedom for First United? Is it pursuing this repair and reconciliation with FPC Charlotte, or would it be more freeing to just leave the white Presbyterian church? As a person of color ordained in the Presbyterian church mixed with the legacy of slavery, this is a real spiritual question I ask myself all the time.

There are no easy answers, but what I know is this. True freedom is trusting in the waters of the Spirit, remembering your baptism, making the Pharaoh’s daughter choice to be a part of freedom for Miriam, for Jochebed, for Moses, and therefore freedom for yourself. The important decision is, are you going to go into the waters of faith or stay in Pharaoh’s palace? My invitation is come to the waters. While freedom in some senses is far away for so many, in the Holy Spirit, the God of the Exodus who freed God’s people from their chains, freedom is paradoxically right here. Right now. In the waters, in the rivers with those three women. For where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.

The Reverend Chris Dela Cruz (he/him)

Associate Pastor of Youth, Young Adults & Community Engagement

Westminster Presbyterian Church, Portland, OR

June 18, 2023