Exodus 14:5-7, 10-14, 21-29

When the king of Egypt was told that the people had fled, the minds of Pharaoh and his officials were changed toward the people, and they said, “What have we done, letting Israel leave our service?” So he had his chariot made ready and took his army with him; he took six hundred elite chariots and all the other chariots of Egypt with officers over all of them. 

As Pharaoh drew near, the Israelites looked back, and there were the Egyptians advancing on them. In great fear the Israelites cried out to the Lord. They said to Moses, “Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us, bringing us out of Egypt? Is this not the very thing we told you in Egypt, ‘Let us alone so that we can serve the Egyptians’? For it would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness.” But Moses said to the people, “Do not be afraid, stand firm, and see the deliverance that the Lord will accomplish for you today, for the Egyptians whom you see today you shall never see again. The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to keep still.” 

Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea. The Lord drove the sea back by a strong east wind all night and turned the sea into dry land, and the waters were divided. The Israelites went into the sea on dry ground, the waters forming a wall for them on their right and on their left. The Egyptians pursued and went into the sea after them, all of Pharaoh’s horses, chariots, and chariot drivers. At the morning watch the Lord, in the pillar of fire and cloud, looked down on the Egyptian army and threw the Egyptian army into a panic. He clogged their chariot wheels so that they turned with difficulty. The Egyptians said, “Let us flee from the Israelites, for the Lord is fighting for them against Egypt.” 

Then the Lord said to Moses, “Stretch out your hand over the sea, so that the water may come back upon the Egyptians, upon their chariots and chariot drivers.” So Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and at dawn the sea returned to its normal depth. As the Egyptians fled before it, the Lord tossed the Egyptians into the sea. The waters returned and covered the chariots and the chariot drivers, the entire army of Pharaoh that had followed them into the sea; not one of them remained. But the Israelites walked on dry ground through the sea, the waters forming a wall for them on their right and on their left. 

For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.

***

Joseph is the bridge. He is the key figure in transitioning from the book of Genesis to the book of Exodus. Now, in the second half of the book of Genesis, we meet Joseph and his family. We read the story about his fancy coat, his favored position among his brothers, and how that turns his brothers against him. We learn that they then sell him into slavery, but even so, he ends up living like a prince in Egypt, where he then gets into trouble with the wife of a high-ranking official.

Now, last week, our guest preacher, Krista, preached about the story of Joseph and Potiphar’s wife. Using Dolly Parton’s movie 9 to 5, she talked about power differentials in relationships, reminding us that God is always on the side of the powerless over the powerful. God is always on the side of the oppressed, not the oppressor.

Make no mistake: God does love everyone. But that doesn’t mean that God is always neutral. God’s love compels God to take sides at certain times and in certain places.

Now, just to be clear, I’m not talking about sporting events here. I saw this cartoon last week. It’s a cartoon of a football player in a huddle looking over at the other team and saying, ‘Oh no, the other team’s praying too.’ That’s not what we’re talking about here, okay? We’re also not talking about Christian nationalism or manifest destiny. Those are all distortions of the faith.

What we are talking about is something closer to what Marilynne Robinson means in her novel Gilead when she writes that God is forever raising up those who are brought low. What we are talking about is what Jonathan Martin means when he writes, ‘If your Christianity makes emperors feel comfortable and oppressed people feel unsafe, it’s time for a grand reversal.’

And that’s what we see in today’s passage: a grand reversal, a great escape, a tale of liberation. God has heard the people’s cry and appoints Moses to go to Pharaoh and demand the release of the people. After a vigorous back-and-forth, including plagues, Pharaoh relents. But wait—Pharaoh and his officials then change their minds, and they send an army after the people, who attempt a daring and dramatic escape through the Red Sea, with God making a way where there was no way.

Now, we know this story. Many of us have heard it, in one way or another, for most of our lives. Even if we’re not particularly religious, it has seeped into our culture: movies, artwork, music, poetry, literature, on and on. It’s a foundational story of two of the world’s great religions, Judaism and Christianity.

We know this story, but remember: familiarity is not always our friend. We know that Moses and his people prevail. We know, of course, right, that the Red Sea parts. Once you know that the Red Sea is parted, you never forget that the Red Sea is parted. We know that they escape. We know that it’s successful. We know that they triumph.

We know even the bit about how the sea comes back over the Egyptians and Pharaoh. And did you notice, just kind of notice this time, that at the beginning they’re talking about the chariots and the chariot drivers and the horses, and then suddenly the horses disappear from it? It’s like the narrator doesn’t want to get us upset that the horses might have drowned too. I don’t know.

You know who doesn’t know that the story turns out all right? The people in the story. And we hear their complaints and their fears: ‘Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness?’ What’s so dramatic? They’re like a bunch of teenagers, aren’t they? ‘Oh, were there no graves in Egypt?’

But it’s true. They don’t know where they’re going. They don’t know what’s on the other side. They don’t know what’s waiting for them, or if it’s any better than what they have left behind. They don’t know how to get there. And they think that God is on their side, but how do you ever really know? The other side has a whole lot of soldiers and weapons and horses. I mean, even with all the hope and faith aside, it looks grim for Moses and the Israelites.

Professor Song-Mi Suzie Park writes, ‘The Israelites have to engage. They cannot just sit on the sidelines and let God do all the work. After God splits the seas, the Israelites have to have faith and courage to walk between the waters of chaos and death, waters that were held up by invisible divine hands. They have to choose to follow God, the one who promises a life of peace and wholeness, and they have to turn their back on enslavement, their past selves, the lives to which they were accustomed. They have to be brave and they have to choose freedom. And they have to join in and participate in the work of God to hold back the threatening waters of doom and disorder.’

I’ll be honest: I don’t know whether I really believe in miracles or not—supernatural miracles. I believe in science. I believe in the laws of nature. I like to say gravity keeps me grounded. That was bad.

And, if you thought that one was bad, I like the old joke about the man who insisted on staying in his house even though it was under a flood evacuation. Do you know this one? First, the police come and tell him to leave. He says, ‘Don’t worry, I’m staying put. I believe in God and that God will rescue me.’

Then the flood came and the man moved to the second floor, at which point the Coast Guard shows up in a boat, and they say, ‘Man, you better get in. The flood waters are only increasing.’ He says to them, ‘Thanks, but I’m good. God’s going to save me.’

The waters do continue, and the man has to go up onto his roof. Finally, a rescue helicopter hovers over him, and he waves them off. And then the man drowns. Upon getting to heaven, he asks God, ‘God, why didn’t you save me? I had faith in you. I told everybody you would save me.’ To which God replies, ‘I sent the police. I sent the Coast Guard. I even sent a rescue helicopter, for goodness’ sake. What more do you want?’

Perhaps, as Hans Christian Andersen once said, the whole world is a series of miracles, but we’re so used to them that we just call them ordinary things.

But something extraordinary seems to happen in today’s story. Moses and the Israelites were not rescued by regular means. We are told that the sea parted. We are told that a way appeared where there was no way.

So, let me tell you what I don’t think this story is trying to say to us today. I don’t think that this story is telling us to ignore the warnings, to send away the boat and wave off the helicopter. This is not a story that is meant to lull us into passivity.

It is to remind us that, in all circumstances, our job is to keep working, keep striving, keep trying—even when the way looks grim, even when it seems as though the other side has everything going for them. We have to keep working for justice. Keep trying to do what is right and good. Keep striving for equity. Keep working for liberation. We have to take sides with the powerless and the voiceless.

Professor Park writes, ‘Like the Israelites, we are called to be brave, to do our part to help God hold back the chaotic waters of the sea.’

A while back, Stephen King wrote a short story—I think it was a novella—called The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon. It’s a story of a nine-year-old girl named Trisha. Trisha is hiking on the Appalachian Trail with her mom and siblings, and she gets lost. As darkness falls, Trisha has to summon her courage to face her mounting fears. The only thing that she has with her is her Walkman, which she uses to listen to the broadcast of the Boston Red Sox baseball game so that she can follow her favorite baseball player, Tom Gordon.

Now, if you don’t know, Tom Gordon is an actual baseball player—or was; he’s retired now—and he was a pitcher who is called a closer. A closer is the pitcher who comes in at the very end of the game, when you have the lead and you need to get those final, hard three outs. That’s their job. And if the closer does that and you manage to win the game, that’s called a save, right? You saved the win. If the closer doesn’t, that’s called a blown save, and you probably won’t have that job for much longer.

But Tom Gordon was a closer. I think he played for a couple teams, but famously he played for the Red Sox, and he was one of the best at the time. Trisha loved Tom Gordon, and so, as she sat there in the dark, lost and afraid, listening to the Red Sox, she imagined that her hero, Tom Gordon, was there with her, keeping her company and giving her courage.

And Tom Gordon says to her, ‘It is God’s nature to come in in the bottom of the ninth. It is God’s nature to come in in the bottom of the ninth.’

You know, that’s what I think this Exodus story is about. It is about the God who rescues. It is about the God who saves—by ordinary and extraordinary means.

You and I, we get so caught up in the means, like it’s only faith somehow if it defies logic and common sense. But let me tell you: you can believe in science and God. You can believe in the laws of nature and divine providence. You can heed the warnings. You can get in the boat. You can board the helicopter and still pray for God to rescue you.

You can fight for justice. You can speak for truth. You can speak the truth to power. And you can keep working toward the reconciliation of the world without giving in to despair. Because, as this story reminds us, God is the God of justice and of freedom and of liberation. That is who God is.

The Reverend Nadia Bolz-Weber puts it this way. She writes, ‘God simply keeps reaching down into the dirt of humanity and resurrecting us from the graves that we dig for ourselves through our violence and our lies and our selfishness and our arrogance and our addictions. And God keeps on loving us back to life.’

A way where there is no way. That’s what God provides. You can call it a miracle. You can call it a save. You can call it justice, equity, or peace, or shalom. You can call it love. Call it whatever you want. But Tom Gordon is right: it’s just God’s nature. Amen.

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