Day 17 -- Exodus 1-4

In the first chapter of Exodus we encounter the first recorded incidence of genocide— an organized program intended to destroy an ethnic group or nation. The motive of genocide is always fear—fear of the outsider among us. So Pharaoh says to his people, “Look, the Israelite people are more numerous and powerful than we” (1:9). In the event of war, they might constitute a “fifth column,” an enemy within.
Whether this was a real danger hardly matters. The perception was there. The fear was real, and the fear took the form of politically motivated mass murder.
During their long history, the Jews have often been the victims of genocide. They are the archetypical outsiders within. Even in this earliest time, the Children of Israel defined themselves in terms of being radically different from the societies around them. The signs of their difference—circumcision, dietary restrictions, the keeping of the Sabbath—have often seemed irrational to their neighbors—irrational, sinister, and dangerous.
Whatever the practical reasons for observing these sacred laws and practices, their effect has always been to set the People of the Promise apart—to make them different. Their differences defined them. They could not be the same as everyone else and be Chosen. To be part of the Family of Promise was to be different, and being visibly different lead to persecution.
But in the midst of persecution, a deliverer always appears—a messiah. The word “messiah” means “deliverer.” A messiah is one through whom God is at work to save his people. The story of the miraculous finding of the baby Moses among the bulrushes is a Sunday School favorite, but its point is profound. In a time of crisis another Child of Promise has appeared to save his people, different from Joseph but having the same divine charisma. He is Different. . . .
Like Joseph, Moses is set apart by his integrity—a thirst for justice that is revealed in his murder of the Egyptian he sees beating a Hebrew (2:11ff). Because of this rash action, he is forced to flee into the wilderness. It is a set-back. But God uses set-backs to push forward his agenda.
Moses, like Joseph, is blessed—which means “lucky” and “happy.” A fugitive in the land of Midian, having lost everything, he finds a new family, marries, and fathers a child. But the life of a shepherd is not his destiny; in the wilderness God calls him from a burning bush to go “to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt” (3:10).
He is a messiah—called to be a deliverer. But Moses demands something to validate his call. He wants the Name of the One who has called him. He wrestles with God, like Jacob. He demands a special blessing.
And in answer to Moses’ demand, God reveals his name. It is, in fact, two names. One is an historical one—“I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob” (3:6). God is the God who reveals himself in history. We know God by the way he works in our lives to save us and in history to preserve his people.
Yet there is more to God than he ever reveals. So the other name Moses receives—“I AM WHO I AM” (3:14)--is mysterious, impossible to fully grasp. It can mean anything. God just IS. And God we worship is both—one we know intimately by his faithfulness and mercy, and one we can never know completely. God is the one who always knows more than he will say--the one who always is more than he will ever show--the one who always has one more surprise up His sleeve.