Let My People Go

“What have we done!” (Exodus 14:5)

The Israelites flee as Egyptian families mourn the loss of their first-born sons.  The mists of grief are pierced with a sharp realization: the workforce is vanishing into the desert.  Pharaoh has freed the slaves.  Who will plow the soil and gather fruit?  Who will haul stones, dig ditches, build roads, and erect stunning shrines to the sheepish gods routed by Yahweh?  The Egyptian rulers were horrified by the signs that God worked through Moses.  But they cannot envision a future without slaves.  They resolve to recapture what has been lost.  Their warriors subject to Pharaoh’s greed will join the first-born in death.

Few signs remain of Hebrew laborers in ancient Egypt, but the lesson of scripture is clear.  God frees the captive and lifts those who labor.  We gaze in awe at ancient ruins, pyramids, churches, palaces, a terra cotta army, soaring bridges, and dams.  We snap photos and consult our guidebooks to sort it out.  Do our roving eyes glimpse the human hands that build them?  The wonders of the world are ringed with fields of bones.  Those who toil to raise these monuments are forgotten.  When I look down at what covers my body, do I give thanks for those who design tools, create styles, extract resources, fabricate products, and transport these shoes across oceans to be purchased to cover my feet?  God hears the cries of those who labor.  We are not created to disappear into the supply chain.  We are created like our Hebrew ancestors to be set free.

The words of consecration unite the gifts of nature with human endeavor:

Blessed are you, Lord God of all creation,
for through your goodness we have received the bread we offer you;
fruit of the earth and work of human hands,
it will become for us the bread of life.

The bread blest and broken is taken into us.  God’s body becomes one with our flesh.  There is no greater sign of love.

“Teacher, we wish to see a sign from you.”  (Matthew 12:38)

Scripture is full of signs.  What sparks Jesus’ harsh reply?  Being curious takes different paths.  We may enter into mystery as we seek truth.  Some questions set traps.  Augustine condemns the lust of the eye—curiosity without wonder.  The scribe in me pounces on signs to score points.

In the night I look back.  Another ordinary day brings signs of God’s faithful presence.