Today was a very special and precious experience, as some folk from church came to share in a Home Communion with me.  This is something I love sharing in with others but had never before had the privilege to receive, and it was very much a time of blessing.

Gathered in my living room, we shared delicious homemade soup poured from a flask, tasty cheeses with crisp, crunchy crackers, succulent grapes... and good conversation.  Then, with two people sat on the floor, and two of us on the settee, we gathered round my coffee table and shared in a gentle liturgy specially prepared.

This was the Priesthood of All Believers lovingly expressed... the person who presided had been so concerned to get it right, even though they knew they couldn't get it wrong... and it was such a precious moment for me, so used to giving to receive.

This was the Communion of Saints, the uniting of these few people with all believers in all times and places... defying and barriers of time or space or creed or culture.

It was a real blessing and I am grateful to M, I and J who gave of their time and of themselves to come and share.  I've always valued Home Communion, always seen and appreciated the way it has blessed others - now I understand more fully how and why that is.

And it gives me an idea I need to lodge in my brain - to try to encourage church folk to share informal 'breaking of bread' in the context of hospitality and meals with friends.  I love the idea that, from time to time, in homes across the city, love and laughter, food and friendship, remembrance and celebration express something of our unity in diversity, of the Priesthood of all Believers, of the Communon of Saints.

These two chapters are, I suspect, often overlooked when we read the Exodus story, but a close reading of them is worthwhile, revealing stuff that is, to me anyway, worth a bit of reflection.

"Thus says the Lord..."

This section begins with Moses and Aaron boldy marching up to Pharaoh and, in the manner of the later major prophets declaring, "Thus says the Lord..."

Pharaoh is not intimidated by this apparent divine mandate, in fact Pharaoh is far from stupid here: quite possibly detecting a covert escape plan, he refuses.  Pharaoh is also an angry man who responds by making life harder for the Hebrews, now they must not only produce their daily quota of bricks, they must source the straw themselves... an impossible requirement, and so life gets even more unbearable.

"Thus says the Lord..." One of the phrases that is pretty much guaranteed to make a minister squirm, and/or be suspicious, is when a member of the congregation comes along and says "God has told me..." ?And usually what God has 'told' them is something we really don't like to hear!  But within the faith community, we can't simply disregard such claims as nonsense, as a minimum we must listen to what is said carefully, recognising that for the speaker, this is (usually) an honest belief... God has told me to leave this church, that you should should preach on such and such a book, that this church should undertake that work... Maybe they are right, but even so, we don't just capitulate, we test it first.

And of course there are, not in my church but in many others I have known, those who in the course of a church meeting will state a view, usually in such cases a strong opinion they hold contrary to the majority, and finish up by saying, "but of course we must seek the Lord in this..."  And there is no counter argument: of course we want to seek the Lord but this voice infers, perhaps rather strongly, that we are not so-doing.

I am always wary of bold assertions of divine manadate, far for open to 'I think that God might be saying...' or 'I wonder if...'

So much for the insider situations.  Here, Moses and Aaron are speaking, effectively to the secular powers... Can I imagine marching up to David Cameron or Nicola Sturgeon and announcing "God says you must do such-and-such..."?  No, of course I can't, it would be absurd.  I'm not pretending that twentyfirst century polictical leaders are similar to Pharaoh, even if sometimes their decisions may seem every bit as harsh or capricious, but I am recognising that there is a discontinuity of language, a different set of motivators and values, and that it is all too easy for religious people to sound like nutters!

I am very grateful for such organisations as the Joint Public Issues Team who speak for churches in the public arena, confident in their faith convictions, and informed in the ways of politics.  Perhaps Moses, having grown up in Pharaoh's court ought to have been better equipped to handle this mismatch than seems to have been the case?

You're making things worse...

When the Elders go to see Pharaoh and discover that he views them as 'lazy' their reaction is to be angry with Moses and Aaron - it was alright before you started stirring things up, now it's much worse.

Two things then happen.  Firstly, Moses takes his frustration to God... essentially, "you told me to do this and see what's happened already..."  In return, God reminds Moses of the Abramic Covenant which, it seems give Moses enough reassurance to speak again to the people.  However the people wouldn't listen "because of their broken spirit and their  cruel slavery".

The reminder of the Covenant, whether spoken by God or recalled by Moses, is an important principle, I feel.  One of the things that has stayed with me since my sense of call to ordained ministry is the advice of a friend along the lines of "when you aren't sure which way to go, go back to the last signpost".  Or, in other words, when it gets tough, remind yourself of the moments you were confident and/or remind yourself of the promises of God.  If nothing else strikes us from these two chapters, this is one worth holding onto - no matter what, God's Covenant promises remain true, this is something to cling to when all else seems uncertain.

The second thing is around the context... here is Moses who is newly arrived full of vim and vigour and wanting to change the world.  What he has managed to do is, it seems, make things worse.  And no matter how much he speaks of hope the people do not, perhaps cannot, hear him, because they are utterly dispirited.  Sometimes we find ourselves wondering why people don't stand up for themselves, don't take action, don't leave abusive relationships, don't do whatever it is... in these few words we are reminded that it is possible for the human spirit to be so brutally crushed that it is impossible to hear another voice.  This is salutory stuff, a reminder, were one needed, that we can't just boldly walk in and fix things - first we must gain the trust of those we would seek to liberate.

Genealogy...

It's oh so tempting to skip over these lists of names and ages and 'begats', but if we do, then we end up missing tiny nuggets of interest.

Here were have a partial genealogy of the descendents of Jacob, stopping when it reaches Moses and Aaron, and specifically locating them within the Levitical clan.

It's a curious list.  Firstly is Reuben, the eldest son of Jacob, whose four sons are named.  Then is Simeon and his five sons, with the note that the fifth was the son of a Canaanite woman - why, I wonder is this significant to include? 

Then begins a far more detailed genealogy of Levi who has three sons and lives to be 137... why we need to know this age, I have no idea.  The sons of these sons are now listed with a comment that the second son, Kohath, lived to be 133.  Amram, the first son of Kohath and who lived to be 137 married his aunt, named Jochabed and had two sons Moses and Aaron.  Aaron has a son called Eleazar who married the daughter of Putiel and they had a son called Phineas.

Then as abruptly as it began, the genealogy stops - the other nine tribes are not listed.   So why this partial genealogy?  Why these seemingly randon details about marriages and ages?

Two things I suspect, one is that the genealogy is an insertion - it doesn't neatly fit the flow of the text - and the other is that it establishes the credentials of Aaron and Moses within the priestly caste, which will later be important. (Though in fact for Moses this has already been done in the story of his birth, without naming his parents)

What it made me wonder is, when we tell the stories of our own faith communities, and when we listed the 'great and the good' who is it we include and exclude, and  why?  What is our purpose in naming Mrs Suchabody and not Mr Thingamajig?

Clumsy Connection or Reminder?

Immediately either side of the genealogy, we find almost identical paragraphs, which may well be a clue to some slightly clumsy editting of the text over time, or of the combining of two different strands (for those interested in the J E D P theories).

Immediately before it we have

Then the Lord spoke to Moses, ‘Go and tell Pharaoh king of Egypt to let the Israelites go out of his land.’ But Moses spoke to the Lord, ‘The Israelites have not listened to me; how then shall Pharaoh listen to me, poor speaker that I am?’ Thus the Lord spoke to Moses and Aaron, and gave them orders regarding the Israelites and Pharaoh king of Egypt, charging them to free the Israelites from the land of Egypt.

And immediately afterwards

It was this same Aaron and Moses to whom the Lord said, ‘Bring the Israelites out of the land of Egypt, company by company.’ It was they who spoke to Pharaoh king of Egypt to bring the Israelites out of Egypt, the same Moses and Aaron.

 On the day when the Lord spoke to Moses in the land of Egypt, he said to him, ‘I am the Lord; tell Pharaoh king of Egypt all that I am speaking to you.’ But Moses said in the Lord’s presence, ‘Since I am a poor speaker, why would Pharaoh listen to me?’

What midly amuses me here is that we are twice reminded by Moses that he is a poor speaker... whatever the origin of these verses, whichever oral traditions they arose within, it appears that Moses' lack of confidence in his speaking ability was well known.

Sometimes it does us good to be reminded that even thse 'Biblical greats' had their limitations, even those we admire were often conscious of their own short-comings.  God didn't miraculously transform Moses' speaking ability, but God never gave up on Moses because of it either.  To be reminded that the God who fully knows us (as per Jeremiah the other week) will call and employ us just as we are is, for me at least, greatly encouraging.

A few people who have taken up my challenge to read Exodus have been sharing with me how they are finding it - and being really honest, which is exactly what I would hope.  I sense that at least some of then are reading it differently from me, choosing to take larger chunks at a time, which inevitably means a very different experience.  Neither approach is 'better', neither is 'correct', each is valid and brings its own challenges and rewards.  What I notice on a slow, close reading, making notes as I go, is inevitably different from someone else reading larger chunks in a more fluid manner.  This is why it is good to be able to discuss with others what they have noted, why community Bible reading without agenda is something I am keen to encourage longer term within the Gathering Place.  For now though, it's good to hear a few voices sharing their thoughts on what they've read and how they have responded.

Exodus is a book full of violence and cruelty; it is a book in which genocide is justified in the name of God, let alone of religion... and, as one person who is sharing this exercise observed, "it could put you off religion for life."  It could indeed.  This person went on to share with me how they managed to make sense of the inclusion of such material in the canon... that this is a reflection looking back and seeking to make meaning of events by a later generation... that some of it is not literally true or at least cannot be proven...  Such responses are far from novel nor are they heretical: they are well established within Biblical scholarship, even if not not often mentioned in preaching.  The person went on to make links between the understanding of the ancient Hebrews and some of the violence and cruelty justifed on religious grounds in our own time... neither excuses the other, neither accords with the idea of a gospel of peace, but the similarities were evident.  If you weren't a person of faith, any faith, what would you make of it?  It really could put you off religion for life.

These are good questions, good things to ponder and struggle with... hopefully whether we stroll or hurtle through Exodus we will find things worth pondering.  And hopefully, if my hunch is correct, there will be times when parts of the text become a 'mirror' in which we glimpse something of ourselves.

Much, but not all, of Exodus 3 and 4 is really well known stuff - the burning bush, the long conversation with God during which Moses makes his various excuses, God gets coss and Moses agrees to go with Aaron as his his spokes-person.  But a closer read does reveal some less familiar words and one downright bewildering paragraph that it seems no-one really has a clue what it means!

Favour and Plundering

Hidden away in the midst of Moses' conversation with God, as part of the response to "who will I say has sent me" comes this:

'I will bring this people into such favour with the Egyptians that, when you go, you will not go empty-handed; each woman shall ask her neighbour and any woman living in the neighbour’s house for jewellery of silver and of gold, and clothing, and you shall put them on your sons and on your daughters; and so you shall plunder the Egyptians.’

This makes me pretty uncomfortable to say the least.  And I'm not convinced it's what happened either - the Hebrew people, far from finding favour, became linked with the dreadful calamities that befell the Egyptians.  Any giving of bounty to them as they left would be not the result of favour but of a desire to be rid of this pestilence.

More than that, though, I am uncomfortable with the idea of currying favour as a vehicle to exploit or rob.  Sorry, God, but I don't like this bit.  What about love your neighbour as yourself...

No Guarantees

When Moses and God have their long conversation, Moses is worried that people won't believe him or take him seriously.  When God gives Moses the three, decidedly bizarre, signs (staff to snake, leprous hand, water to blood), he is told that if the people don't beleive the words they "may believe the signs".  Not they 'will' but they 'may'... Moses is not given a guarantee that the people will believe, even though in the overall conversation God is saying "this will happen and you are the one to do it".

Interesting to ponder the place of free will within an overarching trajectory chosen by God. 

A reminder, were one needed, that the task of the preacher, missionary, evangelist, whoever is not to achieve x, y, or z, but rather to be faithful to what they understand God to have called and commissioned them to do.  Even Jesus had people who walked away after they heard what he had to say...

What the....?

So this is the bit that is totally puzzling, that looks to me like a random fragment that has been inserted and I haven't a scooby what it means or why it's here...  I've included the paragraph that immediately precedes it, to give such context as there is...

And the Lord said to Moses, ‘When you go back to Egypt, see that you perform before Pharaoh all the wonders that I have put in your power; but I will harden his heart, so that he will not let the people go. Then you shall say to Pharaoh, “Thus says the Lord: Israel is my firstborn son. I said to you, ‘Let my son go that he may worship me.’ But you refused to let him go; now I will kill your firstborn son.” ’

 On the way, at a place where they spent the night, the Lord met him and tried to kill him. But Zipporah took a flint and cut off her son’s foreskin, and touched Moses’ feet with it, and said, ‘Truly you are a bridegroom of blood to me!’ So he let him alone. It was then she said, ‘A bridegroom of blood by circumcision.’

The final words of God to Moses are troubling in thier own right - why, oh why, would God decide to harden pharaoh's heart? (I recall an essay title for a Biblical studies course on Exodus that rang along the lines "God plays with pharaoh like a puppet, discuss"  - it certainly appears thus if you read some parts of the Exodus narrative).  The threat/promise to kill pharaoh's first-born son, however horrendous we find it, possibly forms the context for what comes next... or at least how we hear/read it.

This paragraph illustrates the ambiguity of using lots of pronouns, and Bible translators make interpretive choices not always present in the original.  Whilst the NRSV names Moses, the original Hebrew uses the pronoun 'his'.

So we have something along the lines of God met [somebody] and tried to kill [somebody] but Zipporah* circumcised her son** and touched [somebody's] feet with the foreskin, saying '[somebody is] a bridegroom of blood to me'.

Confused?  I certainly was!  Bewildered as to the purpose of this paragraph?  I am!  By the wonder that is Wikipedia, you can read a bit more about  it here, should you wish to.

A couple of notes...

* I am fascinated that Zipporah is named clearly here when no-one else is.

** We don't know which son (she had two) this was or why the circumcision was undertaken only at this point, never mind quite what it signified.

I am utterly bewildered by the idea that en route to Egypt God decided, seemingly capriciously, to kill either Moses or one of his sons... Huh? (less polite expressions are available!)

What do we do with bits of the Bible like this?  Do we quietly ignore them (tempting).  Do we agonise over interpretation, forcing them to fit our own theological niceties (convenient, if requiring mental gymnastics).  Do we note them, allow them to puzzle us but not lose too much sleep over it (probably my default!).  Or something else... (what do/would you do?)

This short passage is just plain weird, some others are highly disturbing.  Perhaps what spotting this afresh today has done, is to remind me, and anyone who has read this far, that the Bible is a complex and confusing collection of texts, and that sometimes it really doesn't make a whole lot of sense!

The first couple of chapters of Exodus are pretty familiar stuff, the scene-setting for what is to follow, so it's easy either to skip over them thinking we know all there is to know. What follows isn't a nice tidy theological reflection or a sermonette, it's just some thoughts on the things that struck me, either afresh or for the first time, as I slowly read these opening words.

They might side with our enemies

What worried the Pharaoh in place at the start of this story was not just that the Hebrew people were prolific (the original 70 descendants of Jacob have multiplied considerably!) but that if it came to war, these foreigners might side with the enemy rather than with Egypt.

I couldn't help but think of the media-fuelled fear about migrants entering the UK from Eastern Europe, and about Syrian refugees entering Europe... if we let them in then they might/will... and we might not like the consequences.

At the start of the story, there is no sense that the Hebrews are unhappy in Egypt, it is only when the Pharaoh's paranoia turns to hatred, and hatred to oppression, and oppression to attempted genocide, that things begin to go wrong.

It made me wonder just what it is that people fear in those they perceive as 'other' that has the potential to lead to such extreme responses.

Non-violent Subversion

The story of the Hebrew midwives and their quiet disobedience to the edict to kill baby boys is as profound as it is comedic.  Did Pharaoh really believe that the Hebrew women were physiologically different from their Egyptian counterparts and so gave birth before the midwives arrived?  Did they, perhaps, exploit his ignorance and prejudice?

Recent commemorations of the horrendous actions undertaken by Nazis towards those they perceived as 'other' serve as a reminder that otherwise intelligent people can believe nonsense about those they perceive as 'other'.  So perhaps Pharaoh serves for us as a 'type' of the ignorant bigot who makes sweeping statements about the physical attributes of people of other races.  And if so, do the midwives somehow exploit or subvert that?

Girl Power!

Nothing new here, but a reminder of the vital role of women, named and unnamed, in the sweep of Scripture.  The midwives who refused to obey the comand of Pharaoh; the mother who hid her boy-child for as long as she could, the unnamed Princess who defied her father's edict by adopting the Hebrew 'orphan'...

The Importance of Names

In many cultures, to this day, naming a child is hugely significant, with the choice being concerned not with it being 'pretty' or 'strong' but that it expresses something of the parents' hopes for their child.  In our society we have, for the most part, lost any sense of connectedness to the names we choose, with even familial patterns disappearing in favour of 'fashionable' and/or 'exotic' (other culture) and/or 'made up' names.

Moses' name, given to him by the Princess ensured that he never forgot his origins, drawn out of the water, out of the place where Pharaoh had decreed he should die (once the midwives had failed to comply, the Egyptians were instructed to throw Hebrew boys into the Nile, where they would drown).  No matter what life brought him, no matter how much he aclimatised to court life, he was contantly reminded of who he was, where his life began.

And his son, Gershon, whose name means "I have been an alien residing in a foreign land" (snappy, huh?) would never forget his origins either.  A mixed race child (his mother a Midianite) born into a race of resident aliens living in a land where they had become despised.  A sense of rootlessness from the day of his birth, a constant reminder of his own origins.

I'm not suggesting we should give children names that are burdensome or overly profound in meaning, but in this naming we catch a sense of the significance of names, of words.  What I call you, what you call me, carries more weight than either of us might realise...

In part we are back to Pharaoh and Hitler and media-fuelled paranoia, that words form and shape our world sublty or otherwise.  But perhaps we are also invited to think about the names we give things, the metaphors we employ to describe events and so on - do they inspire hope or fear, love or hate; do they encourage or discourage...

"God took Notice"

The closing sentences of today's reading is the first overt hint of the Hebrews crying out to God.  Moses is safely living far away in Midian, is married and has a family.  Back in Egypt, nothing has changed, the oppressive regime continues and the people cry out to God.

"God looked upon the Israelites and God took notice of them."

God could, I suppose, have looked, shrugged the divine shoulders and ignored what was happening.  But we are told that God took notice.

Nothing changed straight away, indeed it would be "forty years", or a very long time, until there would be any evidence that God had taken notice.  Many people would have died waiting.  Others would have questioned or doubted.

When we look around at the world of which we are part, when the plight of the poorest and most vulnerable troubles us, when we recoil from the words and actions of others, when our own prayers seem to bounce off the ceiling, perhaps we need to be reminded of this too:  God looks upon all creation, and God takes notice.