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Risking Resistance





Exodus 1:8-2:10
August 27, 2017
First Presbyterian Church, Sterling IL
Christina Berry



Today’s reading from the Hebrew scriptures
begins with these foreboding words:

“Now a new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Joseph.”

We ended last week’s scripture reading on a “happily ever after” with Joseph and his brothers hugging and weeping in a joyful reunion. Joseph and his eleven brothers, the forebears of the twelve tribes of Israel, lived out their lives in Egypt, where Joseph had provided for them during the time of drought in Israel.

But Joseph died, he and all his brothers, and with the passage of time, the story of Joseph was forgotten. And when history is forgotten, the void makes a space for untruths.

Let’s listen for the truth of God’s word to us in Exodus 1:8-2:10:

Now a new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Joseph.
He said to his people, "Look, the Israelite people are more numerous and more powerful than we.
Come, let us deal shrewdly with them, or they will increase and, in the event of war, join our enemies and fight against us and escape from the land."
Therefore they set taskmasters over them to oppress them with forced labor. They built supply cities, Pithom and Rameses, for Pharaoh. But the more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied and spread, so that the Egyptians came to dread the Israelites. The Egyptians became ruthless in imposing tasks on the Israelites, and made their lives bitter with hard service in mortar and brick and in every kind of field labor. They were ruthless in all the tasks that they imposed on them.
The king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, one of whom was named Shiphrah and the other Puah, "When you act as midwives to the Hebrew women, and see them on the birthstool, if it is a boy, kill him; but if it is a girl, she shall live."
But the midwives feared God; they did not do as the king of Egypt commanded them, but they let the boys live. So the king of Egypt summoned the midwives and said to them,
"Why have you done this, and allowed the boys to live?"
The midwives said to Pharaoh, "Because the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women; for they are vigorous and give birth before the midwife comes to them."
So God dealt well with the midwives;
and the people multiplied and became very strong.
And because the midwives feared God, he gave them families. 
 
Then Pharaoh commanded all his people, "Every boy that is born to the Hebrews you shall throw into the Nile, but you shall let every girl live." Now a man from the house of Levi went and married a Levite woman. The woman conceived and bore a son; and when she saw that he was a fine baby, she hid him three months. When she could hide him no longer she got a papyrus basket for him, and plastered it with bitumen and pitch; she put the child in it and placed it among the reeds on the bank of the river. His sister stood at a distance, to see what would happen to him. The daughter of Pharaoh came down to bathe at the river, while her attendants walked beside the river. She saw the basket among the reeds and sent her maid to bring it. 

When she opened it, she saw the child. He was crying, and she took pity on him, "This must be one of the Hebrews' children," she said.
Then his sister said to Pharaoh's daughter, "Shall I go and get you a nurse from the Hebrew women to nurse the child for you?"
Pharaoh's daughter said to her, "Yes."
So the girl went and called the child's mother.
Pharaoh's daughter said to her, "Take this child and nurse it for me, and I will give you your wages."
So the woman took the child and nursed it.
When the child grew up, she brought him to Pharaoh's daughter, and she took him as her son.
She named him Moses, "because," she said, "I drew him out of the water."





In our gospel reading, Jesus quizzes the disciples about his identity. It isn’t that Jesus does not know who he is, in Matthew’s gospel there is a focus on the disciples (and the readers) recognizing his identity as son of God and son of man. With Peter’s affirmation, Jesus establishes Peter’s future role as a foundational leader of the community. Let’s listen for God’s word to us in Matthew 16:13-20.

Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi,
he asked his disciples, "Who do people say that the Son of Man is?"
And they said, "Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, 
and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets."
He said to them, "But who do you say that I am?"
Simon Peter answered, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God."
And Jesus answered him, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah!
For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.
And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church,
and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.
I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven,
and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, 
and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven."
Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.

This is the word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.


Generations have passed since Joseph was the prime minister of Egypt.
He and his family are long since dead,
but it is hard to imagine that the story of Joseph and the Israelites
was completely unknown to the Pharaoh.
That story was a defining narrative, how Egypt survived the drought.
An immigrant Israelite, a foreigner and a slave, rose to power
through a convergence of extraordinary circumstance and talent.
That’s not a history that would be easily erased.

What is more likely is that this new king did not forget, not at all.
What is more likely is that the Pharaoh had deliberately forgotten,
or willfully ignored, the story of Joseph.
You’ve no doubt heard the quote attributed to George Santayana:
“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."
In this case, the Pharaoh’s willful ignorance
would be his eventual downfall.

He was a tyrant and a liar, this new king.
His fear of the immigrant Israelites stirred in him
a suspicion that they would not only rise up in rebellion,
but that they would “escape from the land.”
Egypt would lose its slave population,
and the ruling class would lose its exalted status.
That must have been the twisted logic that grew out of his fear.

So he set out to increase the oppression of the Israelites.
They became slaves, leading bitter lives of forced servitude.
It was forced labor, ruthless, bitter, hard.

Do you suppose anyone suggested that their lives as slaves weren’t so bad?
Do you suppose anyone suggested that some of them were happy?
Do you suppose anyone suggested that some of the taskmasters were kind?

They were utterly, bitterly oppressed.
Still, whether through hope or desperation,
the Israelite slaves continued to bear children, and multiplied.
So the Pharaoh came up with a new lie: soon they will outnumber us.
He developed a new plan: genocide.
Kill their sons.

His plan was simple and ruthless.
But Shiprah and Puah, the midwives, feared God.
They honored God more than they feared the Pharaoh.
They became lawbreakers; they became resisters.
The Pharoah wanted to know what was going on!
They turned the Pharaoh’s own prejudice back on him, with a stereotype:
“These Israelite women are too strong. Stronger than Egyptian women.
They birth their babies before we can get there.”
The Israelites won’t help him by killing their own children.
So Pharaoh introduces plan C – if the midwives won’t kill the babies,
then all the baby boys will be thrown into the Nile.
When a dishonest and fearful tyrant comes into power,
the vulnerable fear for their lives, and the lives of their children.
Some will comply with the status quo,
and some will tell the oppressed that obeying a tyrant
is the same as obeying God.

But others will examine the claims of the tyrant,
and look closely at the actions of the king,
and courageously risk resistance.
They will resist at the risk of their own lives.
So it was with the Shiprah and Puah, the midwives, who honored God,
and so it was with Miriam and her mother.
Moses’ mother actually did not exactly disobey the Pharaoh.
She did throw her baby boy into the Nile, as ordered.
It’s just that she made sure he was in a little boat, an ark,
so that his life would be spared.
And Moses’ sister, Miriam, stayed close by to watch over him.
Pharaoh’s daughter, too, resisted his murderous edict,
and drew this baby boy out of the Nile,
She recognized immediately that he was a “Hebrew” –
a member of a marginalized population,
a potential terrorist, a slave child.
Contrary to her father’s orders, she decided to raise him as her own son.
That’s how Moses’ own mother became his hired nursemaid.
As she held him in her arms and fed him,
think of the songs she must have sung,
and the stories she must have told him.
Perhaps she told him the story of his ancestor Joseph,
who was also a slave, but rose to freedom and saved his people.
Perhaps she told him the saga of Joseph’s family, those twelve boys,
sons of Jacob, grandsons of Isaac and Rebekah,
and of their great-grandparents, Abraham and Sarah.
Perhaps she sang to him a song of the God of Israel,
who had promised the people would be a great nation,
who had established a covenant with the Israelites.
Perhaps in her songs and stories, she made sure he knew
that the promises of rulers and governments may not be sustained,
but the promises of God are everlasting.

Generations later, the Psalmist would write:
“Do not put your trust in princes, in mortals, in whom there is no help.
When their breath departs, they return to the earth;…”

It will take some time for Moses to grow to manhood.
As a prince of Egypt, he will observe injustice, and react with violence.
Even though he flees, he will hear God’s call to him
to lead the people out of slavery.
God will continue to be faithful, not only to Moses
but to all of the Israelites.

Centuries later, another son of Israel,
his life spared in infancy from a murderous king,
will confront his followers with the question,
“Who do you say that I am?”

In an age where new kings arise who do not remember our past,
where power, wealth and worldly success seem to be the goals of many,
how we answer the question of Jesus
will define how our lives are shaped.
If we say that he is simply a Hebrew prophet, or a wise man,
we miss the point.
If we acknowledge him as lord of our lives,
we risk our own comfort, our own self-assuredness,
for he will certainly continue to call us to courageous faithfulness.
The risk of resistance is real;
whether for midwives in Egypt or for those who seek justice today.
Calling out the sins of racism, misogyny, homophobia and bigotry
does not usually make a person popular.
Addressing the slow motion violence of poverty and mass incarceration,
especially the impact on people of color,
is hard work, exhausting both physically and spiritually.

Speaking out and acting on behalf of refugees
and children and vulnerable people is not easy, either.
Shiprah and Puah held the lives of children in their hands,
and made the decision to risk resistance,
because they feared God more than they feared the government.

We may not be blessed to offer such immediate direct help,
but we are certainly blessed to be able to do much
to alleviate suffering and speak up for the vulnerable.
The reason we can do this is that the God of Israel,
and Jesus, the son of the living God,
are with us in every moment,
to fulfill the promises expressed in that Psalm:

“…Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob,
whose hope is in the Lord their God,
who made heaven and earth,
the sea, and all that is in them;
who keeps faith forever;
who executes justice for the oppressed;
who gives food to the hungry.
The Lord sets the prisoners free;
the Lord opens the eyes of the blind.
The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down;
the Lord loves the righteous.
The Lord watches over the strangers;
he upholds the orphan and the widow,
but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin.”

Jesus is the fulfillment of that promise.
He is the name that leads to freedom, the son of the living God,
and the bedrock of God’s promises,
the foundation of our hope,
the very basis of our of our daily lives.

In our baptisms, we are immersed in the ever flowing current of his love.
In our profession of faith, he draws us up out of the water
and gives us new names, welcoming us into the household of faith.
In our daily living, he feeds us so that we are strengthened to do his will.
The love he demonstrates to us is distilled into the courage to love others.
The grace he gives us overflows into the world around us.
The mercy he teaches us is the reason we can resist earthly powers,
and the reason we can risk all we have, even life itself,
on behalf of this world that he loves so much.

He is the son of the living God.
Because of him, even the gates of Hades cannot prevail against us.
Because of him we can resist evil.
Because of him we can risk love.
Thanks be to God for the courage to risk!

Amen.

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