19. Rephidim
Drop thy still dews of quietness
Til all our striving cease
Take from our souls the strain and stress
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of thy peace.
John Greenleaf Whittier wrote The Brewing of Soma in 1872. The words of the hymn Dear Lord and Father of Mankind are taken from the stanzas of this poem. Whittier was an American Quaker. A man of fierce opinions he disliked noise and excitement in religious gatherings. He spoke against ecstasies, transports and even singing, referring to them as foolish ways. He had encountered stories about a drug used in religious rituals called Soma. The DMT of the day. This fuelled his fear around the encounters with the 3God he saw in the hungry of his own culture. The similarity between the two led him to believe that all such loving was induced by emotionalism. In his understanding emotions were childish indulgences. The striving to:
Bring the skies more near,
Or lift men up to heaven
Ordered lives. I wonder whether Whittier knew the 3God. It seems there was a lot that was beautiful about him. He was a justice man, an abolitionist. Not a popular position to hold at that time, but a good fight to pick. I’m not so convinced by the other fight he chose. Maybe his critique of experiential intimacy was the fruit of a time when any glimmer of female emotion was referred to as hysteria. Maybe he was right in his assessment of the revivals of his day. Maybe in the striving they missed the encounter they were seeking. Maybe not. I’m still finding much treasure in his words.
The thought of still dews of quietness dropped on us is so beautiful. Like water shaping the toughest rock. Over time it forms us into the shape of rest. No sharp edges left. Smooth and refined. As I imagine them, I see. If we stay under this waterfall we are shaped by its caress. Transformed.
The butterfly has long been a symbol of the transformation we experience when we are crucified-with and raised-with Christ. My Dad always said, for him, the dragonfly was a more helpful analogy because change isn’t a onetime event in our lives. The flip of a card. The dragonfly goes through many stages of transformation from pupa to delicate winged dancer.
This is why I love the First Testament so much. Wide angle or close up, the people of Israel or the individual characters, we are invited to share in the journey. It’s not tidy. Sometimes the chrysalis sticks, a wing doesn’t unfurl, and the striving doesn’t cease. But it’s not hidden. It’s a kind mirror. A gracious invitation to look-see. And it’s a journey toward all striving ceasing. Toward a good knowing of who we are and why we are.
Today I’m joining the Israelites in ch19 of Exodus. They’d been out of Egypt for three months of mostly walking and wondering. I join them as they:
Entered the wilderness of Sinai. They followed the route from Rephidim, arrived at the wilderness of Sinai, and set up camp. Israel camped there facing the mountain. (Ch19:1)
Sometimes I can’t see very far ahead. It’s not comfortable. There’s a temptation in me to go brew the Soma, to make things happen, to run ahead. Anywhere. Three months after a major deliverance experience the Israelites find the wilderness still beckoning. That feels familiar to me. I get so busy pondering wilderness I almost miss it. The route went through Rephidim: Rest.
Rest in the 3God is knowing that He brought us out and has a safe place prepared for us to thrive in. In rest we begin to shed slavery’s many skins. The PTSD, the hardness, the memories that shape us. Only by passing through rest can we:
Rise up and follow thee.
From Rephidim He invited them to the base of Mount Sinai. They set up camp facing the mountain. They had seen God’s power in their liberation from Egypt, mediated through Moses. Now they were invited to face the mountain themselves. Each of them with their own faces turned in the same direction. But when they saw the lightning and felt the thunder vibrating through their bodies, when they heard the trumpet sounded by no man…they stepped back. He wanted awe in the relationship. He wanted to get as close as they were ready for. For them to see Him, and see the way He and Moses spoke. They stuck with a mediator. They didn’t feel ready. I wonder how this felt to the heart of the 3God.
This is why The Brewing of Soma is key for us today. We are invited to camp at the base of the mountain watching what God is doing in these times. We are free to go up and down and talk with Him. If we choose to watch from a distance whilst others go on our behalf and report back to us, that’s ok. It’s ok. But it’s not the invitation. The invitation is to you. And to me.
We have no need to brew Soma, chant verses or invocations. The route to the mountain is via Rephidim. In rest, we are readied for all that comes with the invitation to fellowship with the 3God. In rest we journey from pupa to kingdom of priests. A special treasure (19:6) to Him. It is such a sweet invitation, and the loving is so beautiful that it might get a little wild at times. I wish Whittier could have known that. I’m sure he does now.
There is a Soma brewed for each of us to drink. It’s ready on the banqueting table and no one needs to administer it to you. Drink and be more than merry. Be intoxicated. Be transformed. Cease from striving.
Then tell Whittier you’ve not forgotten the injustices on the earth. Like the disciples, who also said yes, you go up the mountain, becoming readied to walk into every Egypt.
Our foolish ways are forgiven. We have been clothed in our rightful mind. I’ve found the deepest reverence flows into praise has a tendency to loosen our inhibitions if we allow it. I’m so deeply grateful for Whittier’s words because they remind me daily that the drink, the dance, the ecstasy is a celebration of love and union between you and me and the 3God. Not the striving to achieve it.
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