TL:DR

Suffering is not redemptive, Salvation is.

After captivity and bondage in Egypt, Moses and Aaron’s battle with Pharoah’s magicians, plagues, Passover, and the letting of God’s people go, the Children of Israel find themselves at the banks of the “Red Sea,” with an army bearing down on them. What happens next is at the center of scholarly debate and controversy. There are many questions about this story that we won’t deep dive into. For example:

What is the name of the body of water in this text? The Hebrew says yam suf: Should we read this as the “Red Sea” or “the Sea of Reeds”?
How much time should be spent (if any) prioritizing the prose account of the events (chapter 14) compared to the poetic account (chapter 15) since they are different?
What do we do with the fact that there are clearly (at least) two different traditions/versions of about what happened in the chapter 14, as evidenced by the disagreement over how exactly the Egyptians were swallowed by the sea:
- Version #1: God crashes the waters down upon them as they are in pursuit of the Hebrews (This is the version in The Prince of Egypt movie).
- Version #2: God through confusion/panic into the hearts of the Egyptians, and when they turn to run, their chariots/feet start getting stuck in the mud, and then God releases the walls of water (An image repeated in Judges 5).
What does it mean for God to “harden Pharoah’s heart” here and early in Exodus, esp. since three (3) different Hebrew words are used? (Note: we might write this Card Talk one day. It’s fascinating)
Why do many mentions of this event later in the Bible not talk about the death of the Egyptians (for example Psalm 66:5-6 & 77:15-21)?
What is the significance of Moses’ staff?
Where the hell was Aaron for all of this?

These and many other concerns are fodder for Bible nerds to earn their PhDs and fight for tenure. However, the are not the focus of this Card Talk.

Instead, we are centering our attention on something more important: liberation.

The Divine Warrior: He Who Saves

The Divine Warrior motif is one of the oldest traditions in the Bible: God almighty in battle.

In these poetic stories, YHWH does not descend from the clouds, but rises from His stronghold in the southern mountains. With His armies, YHWH marches out to do battle, kicks butt, takes names, and then leads his people to safety (See Deut. 33:2, 26-29, Judges 5, and Habk 3:3-15).

In the poetry of Exodus 15:1-18, the Divine Warrior is first praised for His actions:

I will sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously;
horse and rider he has thrown into the sea.

“Pharaoh's Army Engulfed By The Red Sea,” Frederick Arthur Bridgman

The poetic-narrative tells how the Divine Warrior crushed the Egyptians with the sea: repeating images of Pharaoh’s chariots, his officers, his army, the enemies of Israel, all being “cast into the sea,” and “sunk in the Red Sea,” how “they went down into the depths like a stone.” These were the works of the Divine Warrior, “the Lord, glorious in power.” However, that was not all that happened.

By the end of the poem, the Divine Warrior has lead His people in conquest of a new land.

In your steadfast love you led the people whom you redeemed;
    you guided them by your strength to your holy abode.
The peoples heard, they trembled;
    pangs seized the inhabitants of Philistia.
Then the chiefs of Edom were dismayed;
    trembling seized the leaders of Moab;
    all the inhabitants of Canaan melted away.
Terror and dread fell upon them;
    by the might of your arm, they became still as a stone
until your people, O Lord, passed by,
    until the people whom you acquired passed by. (vs 13-16)

The Divine Warrior leads His people out of bondage. This poetic account does not refer to the “promised land” as the prose account (chapter 14) does. Instead this area is referred to as the property of the Divine Warrior, His “holy abode,” land He now gives to His people.

You brought them in and planted them on the mountain of your own possession,
the place, O Lord, that you made your abode,
the sanctuary, O Lord, that your hands have established. (vs 17)

The Divine Warrior has cowed the assembled nations, established His people at the foot of His mountain, and receives the praise due such martial superiority, “forever and ever” (vs 18). But this is not a story about conquest. At the heart of this poetry is the notion that God not only fights for God’s people, but that He liberates them.

The Divine Warrior is not out for revenge against His enemies, but is focused on the liberation of God’s people

Think back: why did the Divine Warrior get involved in the first place? Because people were suffering. Like Abel’s blood, their cries rose to God’s ear.

After a long time the king of Egypt died. The Israelites groaned under their slavery, and cried out. Out of the slavery their cry for help rose up to God. God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. God looked upon the Israelites, and God took notice of them. ~ Exodus 2:23-25

The people cried out to God, and God took notice to free them. This is Hagar’s story. And Hannah’s. David and Daniel’s. Bartimaeus and the woman with the issue of blood’s stories.

Mine. Hopefully yours.

Liberating Theologies

Silence is evil. Silence is the means by which the oppressor maintain his/her control.

At the heart of Liberation Theology (and theologies that liberate), is the belief that there is nothing inherently good about suffering.

Suffering is not redemptive, salvation is.

Read that again.

We must eschew shitty soteriologies that place suffering at the center of Christ’s work. People, pastors, priests, and pedantic arm-chair philosophers, who tell us that to be Christ-like means we must suffer. That we must hold our peace. Be lambs led to the slaughter. Expose our cheeks and backs, our palms and sides, to whatever blows the world would send our way.

Bullshit that says to be Christ-like you should

Always assume you’re just being too sensitive, too dramatic.
Be silent about the sexual harassment.
Stay in the abusive relationship.
Accept the glass ceiling and calmly wait your turn.
Know mass incarceration and police brutality is nothing like slavery, lynchings, segregation, or Jim Crow. Shares no common history. It’s “just how it is.”
Close your wallet and say “the poor will always be among us.” Vote against healthcare, “entitlements,” and a higher minimum wage.
Accept that not everyone deserves a marriage license or a wedding cake.
Understand that some people should be required to carry their birth certificates and stupid amounts of personal identification in order to use the bathroom, drive into certain states, be too close or too far from the boarder without speaking the king’s English and being too tan.

This is not being Christ-like.

It’s joining hands with an oppressor.

We must believe, as Breugeeman writes, that breaking the prevailing, unjust silences “begins the process that turns pain into joy” (21). Calling attention to injustice ends its tactic approval in communities, families, churches.

Liberating Work

During the Exodus, Moses and the people had work to do. They had to hold Biblical hope. They had to believe in salvation, believe that a better future was possible. Believe enough to put that faith into action.

Observing that first Passover took effort, as did packing up all their belongings, fleeing Egypt across a hostile environment while being pursued by Pharaoh’’s army. As did passing through those waters depending on God’s provision.

But it was all about passing through Egypt, and the waters, and then desert, not staying in them.

It’s about rebirth, like baptism.

So we must “work as if all depends on upon you. Pray as if all depends on God” (Nannie Burroughs) and remember that salvation is the focus, not suffering.

But what do we know: we made this game and you probably think we’re going to Hell.