Fourteenth Sunday After Pentecost, September 14, 2014

Hebrew Bible Reading: Exodus 14:19-31

The angel of God who was going before the Israelite army moved and went behind them; and the pillar of cloud moved from in front of them and took its place behind them. It came between the army of Egypt and the army of Israel. And so the cloud was there with the darkness, and it lit up the night; one did not come near the other all night.

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 upon the Egyptian army, and threw the Egyptian army into 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.

Thus the Lord saved Israel that day from the Egyptians; and Israel saw the Egyptians dead on the seashore. Israel saw the great work that the Lord did against the Egyptians. So the people feared the Lord and believed in the Lord and in his servant Moses.

Reflections:  This pivotal story in the life of the people of God has been retold innumerable times, and interpreted in diverse ways. Debating whether miracles involve the violation of nature, or whether God punished the Egyptians for following the instructions of their political and military leaders probably miss the point. What we might ask ourselves, instead, is what this event speaks to in our life experience.

It’s not difficult to relate to the Israelite’s situation. While I may not have had my back against the sea in the face of an invading army, I have found myself in impossible situations: lost something I greatly treasured, failed at something that really mattered, hurt someone I loved. Once my mother almost died while I was abroad—with no money for a ticket home. Like the Israelites at the Red Sea, I too could see no way forward.

And yet, most of the time, life continues. Sometimes we are delivered: we find what we have lost, we discover new possibilities, relationships are healed. At other times superman never comes; we can recognize deliverance only in retrospect. Whether we feel our prayer are answered, or continue to struggle, God has been and remains with us, and God is deliverance, a presence in the here and now that is true and real, independent of our current outlook or feelings.

What is really remarkable about this passage in Exodus may not be that the Israelites were delivered from impending disaster, but the fact that they saw the hand of God in that turn of events—and remembered. The story became not simply an account of events, but a formative history that shaped a diverse crowd victims into the people of God.

In contrast to the Israelites, however, no matter how tied up in knots I might get about a situation in which I feel trapped, when deliverance comes, it is easy to forget my desperation. The relief that wells up quickly dissipates, then dissolves in my new preoccupations. I suspect that our lives are full of events (both resolved and as yet unresolved) with the life-changing potential of Exodus. They are doubtless rife with stories that can rewrite our personal histories . . . if we honor them by discerning the presence of God in those experiences—and remember.