Paul Newman stars in the movie Hud, based on Larry McMurtry’s first novel, Horseman Pass By. In one scene, Newman rides up, sees one of his cows dead, then looks up and sees a tree full of buzzards. He shoots his rifle at the tree and the birds scatter.

McMurtry showed up on the West Texas set one day, and the first thing he wanted to know about was the buzzard scene, which had already been shot. The crew looked at each other and just shook their heads. Seems the director flew in 12 buzzards for the scene and then tried to figure out how to keep them on the branch until their cue. He had a clever idea, which is why directors get paid the big bucks, don’t you know?! He had the birds’ feet wired to the branch. The plan was that when the gun was fired, the crew would release the wire and the birds would fly. Well, the problem was that although the wire kept the birds from flying, it didn’t keep them from trying to fly. Before they could shoot the scene, buzzards were wired to the branch but trying to get away. All they could do, though, was to pitch forward and flop upside down, hanging from the branch with their wings flapping. Soon they passed out in exhaustion. Each time Paul Newman would ride in for the scene, he would see these lifeless birds hanging upside down from the tree. This went on for six or seven takes, until by late afternoon the birds got the message and quit trying. Gave up. The crew tried to put them back on the branch without the wire, but it was too late—the futility had been ingrained. When Paul Newman fired on the tree, none of the birds moved. No lurching, no flapping, and most of all, no flying. [Thanks to Kenny Wood, Chance Meetings, for highlighting this story.]

I don’t know how they finally worked things out to get the shot, but we have here a mirror of what happens to us too when we are in slavery to slavery. It’s one thing to be stuck; it’s another thing to lose all hope of getting unstuck. It’s one thing to feel bound to a hurtful past or to a current relationship; it’s another thing to think you are destined to stay that way. Overcoming your fear of flying, your anxiety over striking out from the security of slavery to the insecurity of freedom is part of what God helps you with in preparing you for that future.

We see that in a critical moment of the history of Israel. They have sojourned as strangers in Egypt for over 400 years. Like matrimony that ends in acrimony, they were welcome in Egypt at first. As long as the memory of Joseph was alive in the Pharaoh, they were honored immigrants in the land. But over time the king enslaved them and made their lives harsh and cruel, until there was no memory in them of another country, no longing for home that kept them thinking about getting out of captivity. They began to think of themselves as slaves instead of free and dignified children of God.

Then along comes Moses, who reports that God has come along to deliver them. The first thing that happens is predictable. They look around and see the power of the Pharaoh; then they look at Moses and say, Now, who did you say was going to deliver us? The next thing is predictable, too. Pharaoh is not persuaded by Moses’ word from God that he should let the people go free. So a contest ensues between the principalities and powers. Pharaoh hardens the work of the slaves even more, making them make as many bricks as before, but making them also gather their own straw to do it. God brings the 10 plagues on Egypt to get Pharaoh’s attention and show him that these powerless slaves are backed by a powerful God. The final plague of the death of the firstborn involves our text today.

After a week of remembering terrorist deeds and remonstrating over tyrant defiance, we should recall the words of Thomas Jefferson: We are not to be expected to be translated from despotism to liberty on a feather bed. The powers of wickedness will not go down without a fight. Loss of life is a warning to us of the consequences of oppression. The wages of sin is death.

But the institution of the Passover is a profound prelude to the exodus of Israel. Instead of training the buzzards to give up their instinct to fly by having them repeatedly practice defeat and frustration, God ordains practices that train Israel for freedom and that keep alive the appetite of hope. These Jewish Passover practices are like Christian practices that allow God to work life in us rather than death, that allow God to deliver freedom to us rather than slavery, that allow God to open hope for us rather than despair.

Let’s look closer. First there is this meal that every family is to prepare and eat together. A lamb, a year-old male without blemish. A male lamb is to be sacrificed as a substitute for the firstborn male child who will be spared when the angel of death comes through Egypt in the night. Slaughter them all together as the people of God, they are told. No private religion here. Do it as a congregation. Worship personally and as families, but do it alongside your neighbors, because the Lord is saving a people, not just persons.

I had dinner in another city not long ago with a man I admire greatly and love to spend time with. Jewish by heritage, he is married to a Baptist. He has a massive intellect and a wide spirit, and yet he rarely attends services at temple or church, either one. His faith in God is personal and real to him, but he doesn’t see the point of worshiping with others or carrying on the practices of faith—whether singing or praying or giving tithes and offerings or engaging in study of Scripture with other people. Faith is a private and individual matter. We all know many people for whom this is so. But he is also a brilliant doctor and surgeon who “practices” medicine. He reads and studies and goes to conferences and works with interns and residents and consults with colleagues and imagines new ways of doing things to help real patients who need him. He practices, in other words. And because he practices, he gets better at what he does and delivers more life to others.

Isn’t faith that way? Don’t we practice it daily in the presence of and with the help of others in order to get better at it, in order to receive more life from God through it and to deliver more life to others by it? What would be the point of praying and reading and worshiping and serving and giving if not that it put us in touch with the life that really is life?

This is one of the functions of the Passover. The unleavened bread and the bitter herbs, for instance. God wants these Israelite slaves to understand that they don’t have time to linger in captivity. By not having to wait for the bread to rise, because it was made without yeast, they could eat and run. By tasting the sharp bitterness of the herb, they would remember that life in Egypt was distasteful. They must not long for it or stay long in it. This is also why they are to eat with loins girded, sandals laced, and staff in hand. This meal satisfies only long enough for them to get out of town quickly. It’s not supposed to put them to sleep.

As a matter of fact, the whole point of the practices of faith is to awaken us to life. When we do only what our boss tells us or what our appetites dictate or what the latest fashion trend demands, we are enslaved by the practices of masters other than God. What’s worse, we don’t even know it.

Dr. Phil was saying that the other night on Dateline. You all know Oprah’s pal, Dr. Phil McGraw. Well, he’s got his own TV show starting now. He’s kind of a no-nonsense popular therapist who cuts through the fog and gets to Ground Zero. He was telling Jane Pauley that he was a workaholic at one time, jeopardizing his marriage and family and personal well-being. But the thing is, nobody ever wakes up in the morning and says, Think I’ll become addicted to my work, starting today. I will commit myself to an unhealthy lifestyle that will enslave me to forces that will rob me of joy and push people I love to the side. Same with all addictions, and with all security fixations. They happen when we aren’t looking. They happen because we start paying attention to the practices of work or comfort or success, and we have no alternative insight to a life that allows us to resist those forces.

When God calls Israel and us to do things that seem to us no big deal, God is asking us to do little things that will train us for big things. God wants to remind us that we do not belong to Pharaoh. We do not belong to our boss or our job or our income or relationships that drain the life or the longing out of us. We are meant to live and to fly free and to strike out into a future that God alone can deliver. But God has to get our attention, or we become like birds on the branch that get so used to slavery that we confuse it for life itself.

A ship had run out of fresh water at sea, and many of the dehydrated crew were becoming ill. So they sailed for a nearby harbor to get water, but on their way in they spotted another ship and sailed toward it, hoping to get a share of water from them to tide them over. When they pulled alongside, they shouted, Send over some fresh water. Our men are dehydrated and dying. A puzzling answer came back: Send over your buckets into the sea, and you’ll find fresh water.

The savvy seafarers thought it a cruel joke. What do you mean? The water has salt in it. If we drink it, we will become even sicker. We need fresh water. The men on the other ship yelled: Trust us; send over your buckets into the sea, and you will find all the fresh water you need. Desperate, the men threw their buckets over the side and filled them with seawater. Sure enough, when they tasted the water, it was as salty as they feared. Angrily, they shouted that if they didn’t send some fresh water instantly, they would board the ship and take it. The men on the other boat insisted. Throw over your buckets; but this time, let them go deeper. Let out all the rope you have. Shaken and thirsty, the men gave it one more try. They let the buckets go deeper, and this time the water was fresh. The men were revived. Life and health re-entered the ship. What they didn’t know was that the ships were in a place where a fresh-water river converged with the sea down below. All they had to do was to go deep enough. [From “Go Deeper,” by Father Chip Edens, in The Archangel, newsletter of St. Michael and All Angels Episcopal Church, Dallas, TX, 13.18 (Sept. 15, 2002).]

The practice of the Christian faith follows this pattern. You become obedient to the practices of faith and it takes you from death to life. God delivers you from slavery to freedom. It’s not your doing; all you do is give God an open door to your heart with a little blood on the doorposts and lintels. Next thing you know, you’re on your way to freedom and new life. Nice.