Date: Friday, May 1, 2026
Liturgical Cycle: Year B – Three-Year Lectionary Cycle
(Source: Vanderbilt Lectionary)
Title: Moses and the Burning Bush
Artist: Marc Chagall (1887–1985)
Description:
Chagall’s depictions of this scene—notably his 1966 color lithograph and 1958 etching—eschew a terrifying, consuming inferno in favor of a warm, swirling, and inviting mystery. The vibrant imagery captures the profound intimacy of a Divine presence that meets humanity in the heart of the wilderness.
In today's readings, Moses is found in the wilderness, performing the mundane duties of a shepherd. Following a traumatic and failed attempt to act as a deliverer in Egypt, Moses had opted for a quiet, predictable life. He distanced himself from systemic oppression and the chaotic needs of his people, seeking comfort in detachment.
Much like Abram’s disruptive call to leave his home, Moses experiences a divine interruption in the middle of a standard workday. The burning bush does more than capture his attention; it interrupts his comfortable isolation.
In everyday life, whether navigating workplace exhaustion, managing the complexities of family logistics, or facing the weight of global instability, the temptation to "check out" is strong. When a new demand or a sense of calling arises, the instinct is often to retreat into a narrative of inadequacy. Like Moses, the immediate question is often, "Who am I that I should go?"
However, the Divine response to Moses’ self-doubt offers significant liberation. There is no traditional "pep talk" or a granular, step-by-step roadmap for the challenges ahead. Instead, there is a singular, foundational promise: "I will be with you."
The ground Moses stood on was not holy because of his personal flaws or his perfection, nor was it holy due to its geographic location. It was holy because of the Presence within it. In the unscripted and often chaotic moments of modern life, the pressure to have every answer is removed. The focus shifts from personal capability to the presence of the Guide.
O God, who meets us in the ordinary and mundane routines of our lives, grant us the eyes to see the bushes that burn without being consumed. When the trauma of the world and the exhaustion of our work make us want to retreat, remind us that the ground beneath our feet is already holy.
When the voices of self-doubt whisper, "Who am I?", anchor our spirits in Your unfailing promise: "I will be with you." Guide our steps today, that we might be a source of stability for those wandering without a home. Amen.