Both Deuteronomy 34:1-12 and 1 Thessalonians 2:1-8 recall past moments in the history of their movements.  Moses never enters the Promised Land himself, but God does allow him to survey the land from a high point.  Deuteronomy says Moses died, but later Jewish tradition suggests that he merely departed into the heavenly realm, passing leadership to a new generation.  Whatever Joshua’s accomplishments, Moses is ever the greater prophet in blessed memory.  “Never since has there arisen a prophet in Israel like Moses” (Deuteronomy 34:10).
           
In today’s epistle reading from 1 Thessalonians, Paul has not died, yet his itinerant ministry has required him to leave the Thessalonians for new mission fields.  One characteristic sign of Paul’s ministry involves his commitment to maintain ties with the churches he has founded.  Anxious to know how the disciples in Thessalonica are faring, Paul has already sent Timothy to check in on them (1 Thessalonians 3:1-3).  In 1 Thessalonians 2:1-8, Paul recalls the quality of his ministry among them.  Never flattering, never greedy, placing the ministry among the Thessalonians above his own status, Paul lived among them like a nurse caring for children.  In reminding the Thessalonians of his ministry, Paul seeks to strengthen their ongoing relationship.

	Liberation movements occasionally need to recall their early moments.  In our LGBT communities, who were the first heroes who claimed their place among communities of faith?  Who stood alongside them as allies?  How did these heroes embody their faithfulness, and how did they live out compassion among persons excluded from the blessings of the church?

From time to time, liberation movements benefit from telling and re-telling their stories.
On the other hand, both Deuteronomy 34:1-12 and 1 Thessalonians 2:1-8 pose a danger for liberating practice.  Both texts can nourish an inflated image of the hero, celebrating singular (male) leadership while neglecting the struggles of the larger community.  Helpfully, 1 Thessalonians hints toward another way of recalling the past.  Paul’s image of a nurse nurturing children undermines vain heroic aspirations.  Such nursing was often the task of slaves.  It required caring for the infant, with no reasonable hope of personal gain or reward.  Beverly Roberts Gaventa has noted the surprising fact that Paul describes his ministry in maternal (rather than paternal) terms when he refers to the process of nurturing congregations [see her Our Mother Saint Paul (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2007)].  Just as he recalls his own ministry, Paul celebrates that faithful response among the Thessalonians themselves (1 Thessalonians 1:6-10).

The passages from Deuteronomy, 1 Thessalonians and Psalms 90 all remind us that movement toward the Promised Land will always be a journey. Paul, Moses, Miriam, the Marys and other people of righteousness who have gone before, paved the way for future generations of faith. Their struggles and our present labors for God’s justice on this earth might not be complete and we might not experience all of its fruits in our life time. Such work, however, opens doorways for those yet to come: “Let your work be manifest to your servants, and your glorious power to their children” (Psalm 90:16).

	In recalling the heroes of our faith, what images might we employ to emphasize communal initiatives rather than singular heroes? What signs of hope for justice do we witness in the leaders from the younger generations?

The gospel narratives include many passages that feature “tests” against Jesus.  These are not disinterested theological conversations, but very public disputations. Matthew 22:34-46 relates two such moments.  Jesus’ response to the question of the “great commandment” is not novel; we find it in other ancient Jewish traditions (see Leviticus 19:18 and Deuteronomy 6:5).  Often Christians emphasize Jesus’ uniqueness – neglecting his solidarity with broader Jewish wisdom and the practices of the communities that supported and followed him.  Jesus’ summary of the law complements love for God with love grounded in community.  Loving God is not a matter of individual virtuousness rather it grows together with love among neighbors.

Moments of public conflict have the unfortunate effect of reducing themselves to matters of individual status.  People who speak out for justice often face public charges, finding themselves in the position of self-defense.  They may learn from Jesus’ example, delivering what may sound like snappy sound bites when necessary (Matthew 22:45).  However, such moments bring with them their own temptations.

	How can activists for liberation defend themselves while maintaining their grounding in the communities that call us forth?

Matthew’s gospel does not quite offer an answer to that question.  It does, however, insist that Jesus’ ministry leads not to heroic singularity but to community.  The people of Jesus experience Christ’s continuing presence among them (Matthew 18:20; 28:20).