Exodus

Nearly every Clint Eastwood western begins with an irredeemable injustice being done.  In a couple he even dies first (or they try to kill him and leave him for dead).  Somehow, by the end of each movie he manages to undo the injustice with revenge.  His persona has worked its way into the American mythos.  In a political cartoon strip from the 80s, Clint’s Dirty Harry character holds a magnum to the head of the Ayatollah and says, “Say your prayers, Khomeini.”

We gleefully forget God’s injunction, “Vengeance is mine . . .”  In Exodus we get to see God in action.  Like Clint’s stories, Exodus has a gritty revenge aspect to it.

The plight of the Israelites starts when they stretch their arms a little too wide in their comfort zone.  It’s been too long since Jacob brought his family over from the Promised Land.  In the comfort of Goshen, they have grown into a considerable clan (hundreds of thousands).  At the same time they have become complacent and forgotten the promises of God.  God decides to use a foe to wake them up.

Pharaoh gazes over at Goshen and sees the army that could emerge out of the Israelites’ vast number.  One of his advisers comes up with one of those brilliant political ideas that leaders regret in retrospect:  use the Israelites to build their cities.  The peace-loving Israelites acquiesce and continue to multiply like rabbits.  The Egyptians decide to beat them while they build.  The Hebrew hordes grow larger.  “Tell their midwives to throw every baby boy into the river.”  The Jewish midwives can’t bring themselves to sin like that and come up with a cover.

The result is more Hebrews than ever, blessed midwives and an edict from the Pharaoh to kill all Hebrew baby boys.  The atmosphere around Goshen goes from oppressive to genocidal.  Irredeemable enough for us yet?  Can Clint come back from that?

Here’s the atmosphere Moses comes into.  It sets up a few keys:  the sacrifice deal.  And not just any sacrifice, but the sacrifice of a firstborn son.  This will be God’s point of contention.  The problem will effect the outcome of the Egyptians and the Israelites.  Remember Abraham?  God asked him to sacrifice his firstborn son of the promise.  Remember Jesus?  Revelation calls him the firstborn from the dead.

The end?  Pharaoh will not change his mind until his firstborn dies.  For redemption, God will ask the Israelites for nothing short of each Israelite firstborn son.  Each family will have to redeem them as a token of God’s ownership.

Here’s the light for our spiritual journey:  watch out for that real comfortable place; we tend to forget God there.  When troubles do come, don’t let bitterness or pride overwhelm, cling to God.  Could it actually be that there is purpose in even the worse things that happen to us, like pain and death?  Careful when everything seems figured out while injustice remains, that’s when Clint appears with his big magnum to set things straight.

All of us have arrived from many different places to begin the spiritual journey.  Some come from a place of tragedy.  Many arrive from a place of plenty.  Perhaps the only common denominator is feeling pushed or tugged out of our comfort zones.  From that place we reach out for God’s light.  This is the primary lesson of Moses’ life:  he constantly gets shoved out of the comfort zones he carves for himself, and each time it brings him closer to the light. It all points to the greatest sacrifice of all: our Lord’s for us. That ended all injustice and is the one we are supposed to receive and emulate.