“So every person tore off their golden rings from their ears and brought them to Aaron. And he took it from their hand, forged it, and pressed a calf, a molten god. He said, ‘These, Israel, are your gods that brought you out of the land of Egypt!'” (Ex 32.4)
You remember this story from Sunday School as a kid, don’t you? I can remember those pictures of the Children of Israel bowing down to, just off-center, the golden calf: thirteen stories tall, sun glinting off its surface.
It’s a dramatic story. It’s perfect for kids and even for us adults. It’s easy to visualize. And it’s got a easy to absorb message: don’t make idols and worship them. God alone is who we should worship. Amen.
I suppose none of us really understand these Israelites. I mean, sure, I get it on an intellectual level that ancient people created statues out of wood and stone, which they felt embodied their god. The adoration of these images was a means to keep the rain falling, the crops growing, and the enemies at bay. But, really, it seems silly to me. Rational, post-Enlightenment people don’t think in this way. I don’t believe, nor, I bet, do you, that some image I can craft out of my own imagination has any power to do anything for me. Doing what the Children of Israel did, it’s like praying to a Teddy Bear.
This is exactly why the lectionary buries it here in the middle of October. School’s going on as is football season, and Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas are just around the corner. It’s a good place to tell this story that has nothing to say for our times.
Think about it, can you imagine anyone today thinking for an instant that they could make a god out of their wealth? Think about it, can you really see anyone taking their retirement accounts and, somehow, fashioning them into a deity that they believed would protect them in the wilderness of life? That someone would believe wealth could save them?
But that’s exactly what the Children of Israel thought. They were so certain of this they ripped the gold from their ears. They took their wealth, all of it from the Egyptians, and cast it into a false god they believed was real. They made a creature that, they believed, could protect them from any enemy, always provide them with enough, and guide them to a place of safety.
Of course, it doesn’t end well. Moses comes down off the mountain and destroys this false god. He melts it down and makes the people drink the remains. I imagine they were left sick and miserable after this idol came tumbling down. Their faith was, probably, so shaken they didn’t know what to believe.
They, of course, didn’t learn their lesson. For centuries to come, they’d struggle again and again, making their own gods, borrowing them from someone else. But their story was captured, carried by mouth and then by the written word down to us. And we read it today, remembering that we shouldn’t make idols and put our faith in false gods.
But, of course, that’s a lesson we’ve all already learned, isn’t it?