This week’s reading (Week 5 of the Bible-reading plan) is from Exodus chapters 1-3, 6, and 12.
Long after Joseph’s ascension to political power in Egypt, the fortunes of the Hebrews have altered dramatically. They have now become slaves in a foreign land. The closing chapter of Genesis is striking in the sense that even Joseph realizes that one day his people must leave Egypt. “You must carry my bones up from this place,” he tells his sons (50:25). Genesis therefore concludes on a solemn note. There is a sense of longing on the part of the author, of hoping for a future redemption. It is a feeling that encapsulates the entire story arc of the Bible, from Genesis to the Psalms to the Prophets to the Gospels. It is connected to the “groaning of creation” that Paul mentions in Romans 8. Bob Dylan sings of it in Blowin‘ in The Wind: “How many years can some people exist / Before they’re allowed to be free?”
In God’s promise to redeem the Hebrews from bondage, the figure of Moses takes center stage. The Exodus author portrays Moses as a man of contradictions. A Hebrew by birth, he is condemned to die by Pharaoh but is rescued and protected by Pharaoh’s daughter. In some sense he is a bicultural figure; the name “Moses” is actually of Egyptian origin and shares the same etymological root as “Ramses,” the name of several historical pharaohs. Enjoying the privileges and education that come with the Egyptian royal family, Moses is nevertheless loyal to his own people. Indeed, he is so enraged by the mistreatment of the Hebrews that he murders an Egyptian overseer and flees to Midian as a result. He questions and challenges God on multiple occasions, conscious of his own weaknesses and beset by doubt about who or what this God intends for his people. “Who am I,” asks Moses, “that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?”
I like the idea of Moses as a questioner. He is skeptical by nature and demands an explanation for what God is asking of him. He raises the same objectives that I would have raised, had I been in his sandals. In Chapter 3, Moses demands to know God’s name. God’s reply is as simple as it is definitive: “I am who I am.” The Hebrew word for “Lord,” Yahweh, is similarly translated in English as “he is.” God is therefore to be known as “the one who exists.” No further elaboration is needed. Yahweh is not the god of any elemental characteristic like wind or rain. He is not parochial; although the Hebrews are his people, he has in mind the redemption of all nations. Yahweh responds to Moses’ questioning by declaring “I am.” It is an affirmation of sovereignty. It is a promise that nothing can overcome God’s redemptive plans.
Who are we that we should become agents in a redemptive history? Whenever I ask this question, I am awed by the profundity of it all, of the notion that the author of the universe, of time itself, would ask us to participate in his plans. He does not need us, but still he chooses us. He raises up a flawed, wavering man – Moses – to liberate a people from slavery. The Exodus story, like much of the OT, is a prelude to Christ’s victory over sin and death. And this, in turn, is a prelude to a future glory in which, as the scriptures promise, we will be able to see I Am face to face. To cite Dylan again, the answers to our questions will no longer be left to an ambiguous “blowing in the wind.” There will be no more looking through the “glass darkly” that Paul mentions in 1 Corinthians (13:12, one of my favorite verses). When redemption is complete, “I am” will be the definitive answer to all of our longings.
A Road to Emmaeus 