Turning Aside

In the chapel of an ecumenical retreat house I’ve frequented there stands an enormous potted succulent, a Jade plant, that makes me think of Moses’ burning bush from Exodus 3. It sits next to a small altar topped with carved cherubim and holding the Eucharistic tabernacle. The space feels sacred, drawing me in.

Early in the morning I rise, enter the darkened, empty chapel, and sit next to the small altar. I place my battery-lit candle from home among the branches of the Moses bush, and ponder.  

In the Exodus story, we see Moses going about his daily work of pasturing the family flock. Presumably this is not a mentally taxing endeavour, but does require his attention. On this day, however, something unexpected catches his eye, interrupting his focus. A bush flaming with fire, yet not consumed. 

And here is the pivotal moment. The scripture tells us that Moses not only noticed this extraordinary demonstration, but that he turned aside. He went beyond a momentary “Hmmm, that’s interesting,” and a return to his thoughts about the lentil stew at the end of the trail. He broke his routine, turned aside, and went to look. It’s intriguing to see the phrase, in verse four, “When the Lord saw that he turned aside to look, God called to him from the midst of the bush.” And so began the astonishing story of Moses’ calling to change the destiny of his people and the world.  

In the chapel’s stillness, I wonder how often in my daily routine the presence and purpose of God flames in the periphery, unnoticed by senses tethered to the pragmatic. Is every holy place a place where we have been willing to turn aside and see? For with our attentiveness we show a willingness to respond, to be changed by the magnitude and simplicity of the Presence in the present space.