4/13/17
“The blood shall be a sign for you.”
That is what the Lord said to me. It was a fearful sign. With it, our firstborn
were saved; without it, they would have died.
I was already an old man when God
called me to do what I had failed in my younger days to do – deliver my – his –
people from their centuries of slavery. The signs had been so evident to me. I
had been not only saved from death at my birth. I had been rescued by the very
daughter of Pharaoh and then nursed by my own mother. I grew up knowing that I
was a Hebrew even as I was raised in the royal court. How could this have
happened if it were not from God? Why was I receiving the education, even the
pedigree of a ruler if not for this work of deliverance? My mother had spoken
to me, sang to me of the redemption that our people longed for. And so, when I
saw the opportunity to rescue a brother of my people, I thought then that God
was providing the opening. It was my sign and the sign for my people to see in
me their deliverer. So much for signs.
Forty years I lived in exile. Then
appeared the burning bush – the sign of the holy God. And yet, even as I bowed
before it, the voice of God sounding forth; even as the voice gave me the
command to be the deliverer I had once imagined to be, I balked. When I was
young I was confident in my so-called abilities. Now, as an old man, I had long
ago come to terms with my inadequacies.
The Lord gave me more signs, miraculous
signs – the serpent-staff miracle, the leprous hand miracle. But I did not want
signs: I wanted out! But he, whom I had thought had made it so clear that I was
not a savior, would not let me go. He had chosen the time for his people’s
redemption, and he had chosen me – the failed savior – to be that redeemer.
He gave me my brother Aaron to be my
mouthpiece. He gave me those two signs to perform. And then the plagues. The
first, the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth, and still Pharaoh would
not relent. The sixth, the seventh, the eighth, the ninth – almost relenting
but never able to let us go. He swore I would die if ever I appeared before him
again. Did he not know? How could he not know the power of the Lord? What would
it take? The Lord had told me before I had ever returned to Egypt:
Then you shall say to Pharaoh, ‘Thus says the Lord, Israel is my firstborn son, and I say to
you, “Let my son go that he may serve me.” If you refuse to let him go, behold,
I will kill your firstborn son.’”
I
had not understood, then, the firstborn of everyone in Egypt was meant. One
man’s obstinacy would lead to the death of many. One man’s pride; one man’s
folly to think that he was greater than the Lord.
The
destroyer would slay the firstborn son of everyone living within the borders of
Egypt. Not even we Hebrews were safe from the slaughter. Why was that? We had
been preserved from all the other plagues. What was different about this final sign?
The firstborn son – that was the key.
The plague was not simply an act of destruction. It was not merely a sign of
the Lord our God’s power over Pharaoh and his gods. The Lord God has always
regarded the firstborn son as belonging to him. And so he instructed me
afterwards, “Consecrate to me all the firstborn. Whatever is the first to open
the womb among the people of Israel, both of man and of beast, is mine.” The
firstborn of the beasts we were to offer up in sacrifice to the Lord. The
firstborn of our people we must redeem with a sacrifice. Only by blood could
the redemption be made.
And so only by blood on that night of
the final plague could our own firstborn sons be redeemed. Only the sign of
blood could cause the destroyer to pass over our homes – blood on the doorposts
and blood on the lintels over the doors. Only blood of a lamb, only a lamb
without blemish. A lamb whose bones could not be broken, a lamb whose flesh we
must eat.
Quietly we each made preparation. Where
the households were too small to consume a lamb, one would join another. We
gathered outside our homes at twilight. Each head of the home slit the throat
of his lamb. We smeared the blood around the doors and entered. Each lamb was
roasted and we ate it all. We ate in haste, clothed as though ready to leave at
any moment. We ate with bitter herbs and unleavened bread for we had not been
allowed even the time to knead leaven into the bread.
We ate, if the truth be told,
trembling. It was a somber meal even as the expectation that deliverance from
bondage was near. Death was passing through the land. The wails were rising and
could be heard even from our far-distant neighbors as the destroyer entered
their doors.
Would the blood avail for us? Would the
Lord in his wrath pass over our homes? No doubt we each looked at our firstborn
sons for any sign of failing. But no one’s health faltered; no son died; no
wailing rose from our homes. Before sunrise I was summoned to Pharaoh who gave
the order for us to depart.
Our journey is but begun. We have
crossed through the Red Sea by yet another of God’s mighty deeds. We have
arrived at Mt. Sinai. I am soon to ascend the mountain and to wait on the Lord.
What he will tell me I do not know. What lies before us remains unclear. We are
safe from Egypt; even so, danger remains. There is a wilderness to cross
through, hostile nations to get by.
And yet there is the promise of
reaching our home. However long it will take; whatever obstacles might lie in
our path, we will arrive at our destination. How do I know? Look up. There is
the sign of the cloud and pillar of fire to lead us, the sign of the Lord’s
presence. We eat the daily sign of manna, the sign of the Lord’s provision. We
have but to look back to the miraculous signs of the Lord’s power that
delivered us from Egypt.
And then there is the sign of this
Passover meal. No longer will we have to mark our doors with blood. The destroyer
will not visit us. But the lambs must still be slain and made our meal. By this
are we to remember the redemption of the Lord. And so, when our children ask
what is meant by this service, we will reply, “It is the sacrifice of the Lord's Passover, for he passed over the
houses of the people of Israel in Egypt, when he struck the Egyptians but
spared our houses.” The blood of the lambs that were slain redeemed our
firstborn sons. Their death gave us life.
May we never forget such a great
redemption. May this meal be the Lord’s sign to us that not only did the Lord
once redeem us but that he continues to be with us to guide us, to protect us,
to lead us safely home.
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