In the House of Pharaoh
Exodus 1:8-2:10
Romans 12: 1-8
A Sermon by the Reverend Odette Lockwood-Stewart
 

In the Book of Exodus we read the story of the oppression ... and liberation ... of the people of God.  

Who did God choose to lead the Israelite people out of slavery to the Promised Land?  Moses.

Our Scripture lesson this morning, from the first chapter of the Book of Exodus, tells the context for the birth of Moses and the story of his survival.

Egypt had been hospitable to the Israelites, the marginal, the sojourners in their land.  But a new king came to power, one who forgot the history of the nation, of Joseph, and of how the Hebrew people had helped Egypt.

Economic times got hard, and the political future frightening. The new king noted in terror that these people, these outsiders, were growing in number. They were doing well even as aliens in a strange land.  He thought:  Perhaps they were growing strong at the expense of Egypt’s strength!  And, in a battle with Egypt’s enemies, who knew what side these outsiders would really be on?

So, threatened, the Egyptian king, the Pharaoh, issued new orders to control and contain the people by forced labor. In Exodus 1:14, the verse just before our Scripture lesson begins, it says, “The Egyptians became ruthless in imposing tasks on the Israelites, and made their lives bitter with hard service in mortar and brick and in every kind of field labor.  They were ruthless in all the tasks they imposed on them.”

But even this did not crush the people. So the Egyptian ruler, the King, Pharaoh, commanded something much worse.  He summoned the two primary Israelite midwives, Puah and Shiphrah, and told them to identify the gender of each Israelite baby as it was born. Then he ordered, “If it is a boy, kill him, but if it is a girl, she shall live.”  He wanted to eliminate any possible threat.

But the midwives defied the orders of Pharaoh.  They let the boys live. They risked their own safety in choosing to save the children. When Pharaoh questioned them, they fooled him by feeding off his own prejudices.  They told the King that Israelite women were so wild and strong that they gave birth long before midwives could even arrive!  And so, they continued to bring forth new life among the people.

Scripture says that then, the King, still threatened, commanded all his people to throw every baby boy into the Nile River.

This gender selection enforced by executive order was the context for the birth of the baby boy Moses... who was to lead God’s people from slavery to freedom.

When Moses was born, his Israelite mother hid him as long as she could.  Then she got a papyrus basket for the baby, made it into a waterproof boat by smearing it with tar and set the baby in the basket in the reeds at the edge of the waters of the Nile.  She sent his older sister watch over him.   Pharaoh’s daughter, bathing by the river, discovered the basket, and took pity on the crying baby.  She knew it was an Israelite baby ... She took him as her son.

There is much more to the story.  But want I hope we will remember is that before Moses delivered God’s people ... he, himself was delivered, and delivered from harm, by the midwives... his mother... his sister...a slave girl... even by Pharaoh’s daughter.

It is ironic, of course that all those who helped save Moses were caregivers, presumably non-threatening females – some were outsiders, and some who lived in the house of Pharaoh, the King.  Vulnerable girls and women creatively resisted the death-dealing power of the King, and rescued, nursed, nurtured and protected the life of the liberator, and the life of the people.

Years ago, a friend and colleague, Dr. Ignacio Castuera, taught me something about the power of this story I have never forgotten.  I had invited him to lead a Bible Study to a United Methodist Student Movement conference.  Students were wrestling with the story, and began identifying themselves with Pharaoh.  They expressed guilt because of their privilege and position and relative wealth and power in this land and in the world.  They talked about the oppression of indigenous people, forced labor and detention and deportation of immigrants, the abject poverty of refugees, of those living in inner cities, of those who suffered and died in wars their own tax dollars supported.  The students talked as though there were two choices: rich... and poor, oppressor... and oppressed, powerful... and powerless. One student even shouted out, “Oh no, we’re Pharaoh!”  

But Nacho challenged them.  He said, “You are not Pharaoh.  You are Moses in the House of Pharaoh!”  

He told them that they probably didn’t own or control much of what they assumed they owned and controlled, and that much that they assumed as privilege was precarious. He said that he guessed that their parents probably didn’t even own their houses....banks did.  He invited them to see what would happen if they missed payments on house, or car, or credit card, or hospital bill, or ... tuition.  He invited them to see what would happen if they risked their safety to protect children labeled as illegal.

We benefit from the safety, material comfort, access and education of dwelling in the house of Pharaoh ... but the house is not ours.  If we are not Moses in the House of Pharaoh, perhaps we are a servant, a daughter, a sojourner, a midwife, a father, a sister, a neighbor. Whatever our location in the story of the liberation of God’s people, the question is, what do we do with where we are and what we have?  Do we know to whom we belong?

God is the central actor in this story from the first chapter of Exodus.  But God’s actions are not mentioned.  God is hidden within the day-to-day decisions of both powerless and well-positioned people.  The King is not named, but the two midwives are.  The Pharaoh’s daughter is not named, but she gives Moses his name. Moses’ mother risks life in the desperate commitment of her son and her daughter to God’s care.

Joyce Hollyday writes of her experience in meeting Albertina Sisulu, of South Africa, whom Hollyday calls “a descendent of Puah and Shiphrah.”  Sisulu was a nurse.  In 1964 her husband, Walter Sisulu, was imprisoned with Nelson Mandela. During the 26 years of Walter’s imprisonment, Albertina Sisulu continuously provided a safe house in Soweto -- for children of apartheid, and for victims of police violence.  She, and her children, were arrested many times.  As early as 1956 she led a massive women’s protest against the newly instigated racial pass system.  On May 10, 1994, it was Albertina Sisulu who administered the oath of office as Nelson Mandela was sworn in as South Africa’s first black president.  She was elected to Parliament. (J. Hollyday, Clothed with the Sun, pp. 94-96)

Many of us have heard that this year, Nelson Mandela turns 90 years of age.  Not as many of us know that Albertina Sisulu also turned 90 this year.  A new exhibit opened in South Africa, honoring the Sisulus and entitled:  “Parenting a Nation.”

Not a ruler ... but a leader.....she suffered greatly, but she was not a victim ... she was nurse to others who suffered, and mid-wife to new life even within a repressive realm.

Here we are ... “Moses in the house of Pharaoh.  Midwives in the presence of power ... sometimes outsiders ... sometimes with positions inside ... but always with the chance to choose salvation over safety, to be instruments of love, agents of justice, practitioners of peace.

Thanks be to God.  Amen.