“The Lord said to Moses, ‘Go down at once! Your people, whom you brought up out of the land of Egypt, have acted perversely; they have been quick to turn aside from the way that I commanded them; they have cast for themselves an image of a calf and have worshiped it and sacrificed to it and said, “These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt!”’” (Exodus 32:7–8)

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” (Philippians 4:8)

In one of my previous workplaces, I belonged to a team that was really ‘tight’. We liked each other. I think. More on that later.

We shared coffee, snacks, meals and parties. We were smart, nuanced thinkers who loved learning and challenged each other to read and research, just out of interest. These are values I share, so I felt like I was with my people.

We were also under a ton of pressure.

The institution faced significant financial and staffing cuts. We were being divested to another organization whose values we viewed suspiciously. There were rumours that our building would be torn down and replaced.

Now, we loved to hate that building. The windows didn’t work. There were rodents in the basement, broken office furniture and locks that randomly stopped working. But it was familiar. We knew what happened there.

Apparently, even the rodents had the advantage of being known quantities.

Change loomed large. We were scared of losing jobs, losing our team, and working somewhere that didn’t feel like ours.

And our fear needed somewhere to go.

On my team, it became a weird ‘we’re better than that department’ competition. We were smarter, better trained and better at our jobs. We were going to make the best decisions.

Spoiler alert. We weren’t.

We were trained in one discipline within an organization that needed many disciplines. But anxiety had narrowed our vision. Complaints, gossip and insults became our way of reassuring ourselves that we were the good ones.

Eventually, we turned on each other.

I left fairly early. Not because I had suddenly become wise or holy. A colleague had gossiped about me elsewhere, and word got back. Being the target made things clearer.

Funny how that works.

The deeper perspective took years, and other workplaces under stress, before I understood how quickly a frightened group can become a hurtful one.

Enter the golden calf.

Moses has been up the mountain for a long time. The people don’t know what has happened to him. The person who led them out of Egypt is missing, and the future is uncertain.

So they ask Aaron to make gods to go before them.

Something visible. Something available. Something that won’t disappear up a mountain without telling them when it will be back.

In her Working Preacher commentary, Amy Erickson connects the people’s demand with their anxiety over Moses’ absence. Aaron responds by giving them something tangible, rather than challenging the fear driving their request.

That sounds uncomfortably familiar.

Our team didn’t melt earrings into a calf. We made an image of ourselves instead: the smartest team, the best department, the people who really understood.

And we gathered around it.

The problem wasn’t that we cared about our work. The problem was that our need for reassurance became more important than truth, kindness or our neighbours.

Fear explained our behaviour. It didn’t excuse it.

Then the story takes a surprising turn. God is furious and threatens destruction. Moses intervenes. He reminds God that these are God’s people, delivered by God’s power. He appeals to God’s promises to Abraham, Isaac and Israel.

And God relents.

Moses doesn’t flatter the people or pretend nothing happened. He holds their failure within the larger story of God’s faithfulness. Their worst moment does not have to become their final one.

Which brings me to Philippians.

Whatever is true. Noble. Right. Pure. Lovely. Admirable.

Think about such things.

Now, this is not Paul suggesting that we put inspirational sayings over the broken windows and pretend everything is fine. Financial cuts are real. Job losses are real. Uncertainty is hard.

Nor is anxiety a failure of faith, or something everyone can simply think away. Sometimes we need professional help alongside prayer and community.

But Paul offers a remedy for the anxious thinking that feeds on rumours, assumes the worst and turns other people into enemies: practise directing attention differently.

Begin with what is true.

What do we actually know? What have we assumed? Has someone confirmed this, or have we repeated it so often that it now sounds like a fact?

Then ask what is noble and right.

Does this conversation respect someone’s dignity? Is there a concern we should address directly, rather than discussing it with everyone except the person involved?

Look for what is lovely and admirable.

Who is doing good work? Who has been kind? What can we appreciate in the department we’ve decided to dislike?

This isn’t denying the difficult things. It’s refusing to let them occupy every room in our minds.

It also changes what we contribute to the group. We can interrupt gossip. Ask a better question. Acknowledge someone else’s expertise. Admit that we are frightened without insisting that someone else must be the villain.

We can pray for people instead of gathering evidence against them.

Perhaps the practice begins over coffee, when someone offers the usual complaint. We can listen without adding another insult. We can name the worry underneath it. We can remember that the people across the hall are also trying to navigate an uncertain future.

I wish I had understood that sooner.

But grace means we can begin again. We don’t have to keep polishing the calf just because we helped build it.

The future may still be uncertain. God’s faithfulness is not.

Blessings today, and remember you are Loved.

~Rev. Lynne