Exodus 14: 19-31
Dr. Anna Marsh writes that: “Today’s story of the Exodus is the culmination of a long stretch of narratives demonstrating God’s power to save the people of Israel. Their freedom as well as God’s very identity are on the line. If you tune your heart to the strains of the Hebrew Bible, this is the defining moment in the history, literature, and liturgy of ancient Israel.”
The defining moment.
Three scenes catch my eye especially within this incredible moment of drama.
First, there’s the pillar of cloud and fire that God places between the Egyptian army and the people of Israel, leaving everything they’ve ever known for freedom, for a new life.
The pillar of cloud and fire… came between them and
“One could not come near the other all night long.”
That pillar of cloud and fire is God setting a boundary in a very powerful way.
No oppression can happen while that boundary is in place.
It protects the vulnerable until God is ready for them to take their next step.
The second scene is the parting of the waters and walking on a path through the sea.
Then, the water was parted so dramatically that the path they walked on was dry…
Dr. Marsh writes, “As the Israelites come to the shores of this water, pursued by their oppressors, there is chaos ahead, chaos behind—the only way out is through. And God makes the way.”[1] Like a rebirth, the people of God follow the path of God walking into a new life where they are not dependent on oppressors but rely on a God who loves them and wants the very best for them, wants the very best relationship with them.
The third scene are the chaotic waters collapsing and drowning the whole army.
Not one chariot makes it through.
The Hebrew people see the Egyptians who had come to kill them (or force them back to slavery)… dead. So, on one hand, there is a sense of celebration, of relief, of freedom…
But on the other, there is a trauma… all those Egyptians, dead… and the full knowledge that only by divine power could this unexpected outcome have been possible.
It was awe-inspiring. It was terrifying. I imagine that the memory never left them… but also, I think this is why they danced. They danced to work through their trauma. They danced to acknowledge a power greater than the power of the greatest army on earth. How could it be that God’s power was greater that the power of Egypt? It was hard to imagine—and hard to believe still… that God had set them free.
In the next chapter, Moses sings … and then the prophet Miriam sings and leads all the people in song and dance… because people need some time and space to realize what has happened. They express the whole variety of emotions present in such a deep generational experience… first, considering their long years of being enslaved… then, in watching such an oppressive situation come to its end. They take their time to mourn, their time to dance.
In the upcoming October newsletter, I share thoughts about some of the changes coming to the neighborhood right around our church building. Currently, the Ford Building next door is scheduled to be demolished in late October, early November. Phase one (the demolition) is planned to be completed by the end of the year. Then, in Spring, phase two (reconstruction of a tunnel shelter and green landscaped space) will be completed. Conversations, advocacy and plans are underway so that our historic building will be protected and preserved, even as this significant demolition happens at very close proximity.
It’s a defining moment of change—twenty years ago, this congregation advocated for that building not to be taken down. There were values about re-purposing the Ford building rather than tearing it down and there were fears about our church building being the only building standing in the square block. Then, the building stood un-used for twenty years. Now, it seems as if the changes will be good in the long run, as if the plans for investment and renewal all around us will be full of new life… but before the good that lies down the road, there’s chaos. Chaos behind, chaos ahead—how do we navigate the path ahead?
In the October newsletter, I share insights from Darla DeFrance. In her article, “A New Ministry out of the Rubble: Always reforming means always deconstructing,” DeFrance writes a moving reflection in response to a historic building in her neighborhood being torn down. Here’s a small part of her reflection:
It is… a change for the better. But change is always stressful, and I admit that I shed a few tears watching the giant mechanic jaw bite off and digest into rubble the place that held so many memories and stories.
The Church is called to be constantly reforming, and the first step of re-forming is un-forming, breaking down what has been before trying new ways of putting it all back together. It is what Richard Rohr calls the universal pattern—the order, disorder, and reorder that we see in the changing of the seasons, the life and crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus, and in the literal and metaphorical experiences all around us of construction, deconstruction, and reconstruction.
The deconstruction is the most painful. We would do anything to avoid it, to skip ahead to the exciting phase of rebuilding. But unless we deal with the fatal cracks in the foundation and clear away the rubble, nothing truly new will ever be built…
The church is always reforming, in every generation and in every season. This can be exhausting when it feels like it’s falling apart. But what if it’s a necessary, ongoing part of messily overlapping cycles of change? The Church is bigger than the building, bigger than the congregation or the denomination. The Spirit moves in mysterious ways, and part of coming together into a new thing is the undoing of old things….
Yes, God is doing a new thing among us! God [will be] in the pile of rubble. God [will be] in the corner pillars of the new foundation. And God is in the vision of a future that is only beginning to come into focus.
I can only imagine that these are some of the feelings that the people of the Exodus felt as they waited in fear on one side of the cloud of pillar and fire, as they looked forward into the path across the waters and stepped a tentative foot onto the sand and wondered if they’d actually make it across… I can only imagine that they cried tears of grief and joy as the life they knew came to an end and they began a new chapter. This is the universal pattern—the order, disorder and reorder. Yes, God is doing a new thing beside us, among us. It’s a defining moment. Just as surely as God showed who God is through the Exodus, God is still showing us and will show us who God is—for the flourishing and new life of us and our neighbors.
[1] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-24/commentary-on-exodus-1419-31-6
