Drawn Out
Exodus 1:8-2:10

August 24, 2008


Sometimes there is a certain tension in churches listening to the Old Testament. People usually love the stories, but figure that it is the old covenant, now replaced by Jesus’ new covenant. Here is a fitting example of a beloved story that does not seem to have much to tell Christians. It all depends upon how you read it.

Christians have often been accused of reading Old Testament stories in a Christian manner, but how else are we supposed to read it? If we read it in a Jewish mode, we would be Jews. The Qur’an also recites this story with quite distinctive nuances in a kind of shorthand way, almost as if everyone already knew the details. No, we read these stories not only for their intrinsic human drama and values, but also for how the encounter between God and human beings occur, an encounter we as Christians must always finally interpret through the event of Jesus the Christ.

However, the one thing we always do is read the Hebrew story as it is and do not try to adjust its narrative to our advantage or perspectives. We leave every detail intact, just hearing the same events through different ears.

The epic tale of Joseph ended happily with reconciliation between all the brothers and father Jacob in the strange land of Egypt. Like many a family that moves to gather around a successful relative, the twelve brothers of Israel settled into a friendly Egypt and as the generations passed the nation and tribes of Israel grew exponentially. Some historians have pointed to the reign of a Semitic people, the Hyksos, who conquered Egypt in the 17th century B.C. and assimilated into the magnificent Egyptian culture. That could explain the openness and hospitality to these Hebrew Canaanites, people of the same stock as the rulers.

What eventually happened is certain, but uncertain in precise historic details. Instead, it was stated in spare, nearly poetic prose, “Now there arose in a new king in Egypt who did not know Joseph.” Joseph had become the symbol of the best of Israel and Israel had changed the composition of the population of Egypt. “The land was filled with them” and perhaps like some nations we know today, the question asked on the street was, “Who is a native Egyptian anymore?” A new Pharaoh arose, most likely a real Egyptian. This teeming mass of foreigner Semites was an eyesore to the hearts of all true Egyptians. It was politically advantageous for this Pharaoh to stigmatize these sons of Joseph as the Semitic plague. Too many of them, too strong, too dangerous, never can be loyal enough. Let’s keep them keep them under control, “they made them serve with rigour.” The descendants of the man who ruled Egypt and gave life to many a nation were now slaves of a ruling class who thought they were too full of life. In case you haven’t thought of it yet, this was not the last time the local citizens have done something similar to their immigrants. Could it even be happening today!

The Israelites were good workers as well, building the great storage cities of Egypt, an ironic testimony to the foresight of Joseph who systematically stored grain for the years when the Nile did not flood the arable land properly. Their forced labour became the backbone of the flourishing Egyptian economy, another time-honoured governmental strategy.

The more the Egyptians oppressed the Israelites, the more they increased in number and vigour. Egyptians came to dread seeing an Israelite, and likely called them unpleasant names, referred to the colour of their skin as a sign of inferiority, all the while fearing they would be able to overwhelm by brute numbers the great culture that was Egypt. Is this an old story, or do we keep retelling it in the social fabric of our nations?

A particular observation has to be registered: as Jews, as Christians, we are never guaranteed political freedom. Christianity began in a nation occupied by a foreign power. The truth shall make you free, but not necessarily governments and the fickleness of human history.

The Pharaoh had a solution. At first the personal approach with a couple of Hebrew midwives, but that didn’t work because they feared God more than Pharaoh, plus they pulled his leg hard. We couldn’t kill the male children because the Hebrew women are so much more vigorous and healthy that they barely need midwives. That’s what the Egyptians readily believed anyway. Finally, the more general solution, sanctioning the Egyptian’s prejudice and hatred of their minority and encouraging a de facto genocide. Throw the male babies into the River Nile, the Pharaoh urged. Shades of Herod massacring the infants two years old and younger to come. That too did not work.

A family of the house of Levi had a baby boy, a goodly child, but one they could hide only so long. The mother had a solution and fashioned together a basket of bulrushes, not the most sturdy of materials - though some Christians would say, not unlike the straw in the manger for Jesus’ bed. She did exactly what Pharaoh demanded, she cast his little boat into the River Nile, but just at the right time - bath time.

The Pharoah’s daughter came down to bathe in the Nile, the source of all water and life for Egypt, and the little basket drifted into their midst at the opportune time to be noticed. Pharaoh’s daughter saw it and had it fetched, and wouldn’t you know there was a crying baby aboard, easily recognizable as a Hebrew child. She knew what had been going on with her father’s orders so she had pity on the child and decided to take the child into her household.

Craftiness is a mother, however, and the sister of the baby had been positioned close by and piped up to suggest she might find a suitable nurse for the child. Bringing up children is such a messy thing for a king’s daughter, you know. The king’s daughter bit at the bait and sure enough the sister brought into service the baby’s own mother whom royalty would now pay her to take care of her own child. An object lesson in how to fool and take advantage of those in power.

The mother knew that her son’s future would be better insured in the royal household, so in time she brought him there and Pharaoh’s daughter named him Moses, an etymological name because she “drew him out of the water,” similar to the Hebrew verb mashah. Of course, Pharaoh’s daughter wasn’t speaking Hebrew and Egyptian hieroglyphics do report other Moses whose name is actually some kind of minor deity. But no matter, because it is the Jews who are telling and interpreting the story. Moses was “drawn out” of the water, rescued and redeemed from a cruel and unjust death.

So here’s a model story, a paradigm some might say, of how each one of us is drawn out of the water to live a new life. A little bit of human cunning involved, a good bit of divine providence mixed in, the compassion out of the household of the axis of evil, who says you and I haven’t been drawn out at some point to do and be something unique. Christian readers would add that you and I are drawn out of the water at baptism, rescued from the old way of death and immersed in the water of New Life.

This story, like yours and mine, is prologue. It is not a conclusion by any means. It doesn’t give us anything concrete; we are simply reminded of the special grace we have been given. Whether you are Jewish or Christian or Muslim, the rest of Moses’ story is read according to how one interprets Moses’ relationship with God and how that relationship bends and molds his actions and his passions. Whenever he resists and defies God, or simply ignores him, he is in trouble and so is Israel. Works the same with us.

Preached by Robert Kitchen
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan