Exodus: Finding Freedom Out of Egypt

Exploring Exodus, and what that book meant to generations of oppressed people

Image via Max Pixel

Exodus is the second book of the Bible, and certainly one of the most important books of the Bible, to both Christians and especially Jews. (In fact, if you are looking to examine the Torah from a Jewish perspective, I highly recommend signing up for Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg’s Substack entitled “Life is a Sacred Text.” She is examining Exodus in depth RIGHT NOW, new posts once a week! Unlike me, she is actually a scholar and a religious leader, and not just some dirtbag layperson!)

I have to admit: I struggle a bit with Exodus, even more than Genesis. It was easier to make all of Genesis seem metaphorical, because it’s so clearly full of literary parables and none of the people and places actually seem real. When we get into Exodus, however, shit is absolutely real. There really was an ancient Egypt, and there really were ancient Hebrew peoples as well.

Now, there’s not actually any evidence whatsoever that the events in Exodus took place — but just because the Bible is the only source for something doesn’t mean it wasn’t real, either. You can’t dismiss something as being fake just because it’s in the Bible the same way you can’t declare something is historically true just because it’s in the Bible. It’s hard for even the most neutral experts to decipher reality versus parable in these stories of ancient civilizations before widespread literacy, writing, and preserved history in archaeology.

But for most of us, it’s impossible to be neutral about the Bible. It’s so wrapped up in our societies and cultures, especially among western civilizations, that we are forced to draw an opinion about scriptures, religion, and the existence of God early on. And for most of us, we are heavily influenced by our family and where we live. Some people hate the Bible outright thanks to the influence of literalist Christians who use verses to shame others, and that negatively impacts our perspectives. Some people think the English KJV Bible is the literal word of God without even a moment of examination into the text sources, and they elevate the words in the Bible to being equal to God himself. (I use male pronouns for God out of habit, sorry. But God certainly has no gender!) I personally love the Bible, and struggle with it, and hate it sometimes, and am enamored by the poetry, and take commands of Jesus very literally — sort of a constant battle with it and myself. In all cases, I would argue, there’s a degree of bias.

Regardless, Exodus is an extremely important story. It starts with God, furious with the Egyptians over their treatment of his people. Moses, an infant found and saved and elevated and chosen by God with signs and wonders in more ways than one that will later closely parallel the birth of Jesus, is to lead his people out of Egypt. He is cynical and flawed and doesn’t believe in himself or maybe even the words of God, which is extremely relatable to me. (As is the Israelites’ constant whining and demanding after they are saved.) What I struggle with, however, is that God himself hardens the heart of the pharaoh. So that he can continue to plague them and eventually kill their firstborn sons. Even if it’s not real, the idea of a God that murders innocent babies makes me feel sick. The vengeful God never ceases to scare me and give me pause. This is why I like the idea of a God you can argue with, a God that changes. A never-changing God is not a God I want to worship.

I think this is where I start to realize that until the New Testament — in fact, maybe even until Paul’s letters — this wasn’t ever written about me or for me. American Christians, like most Americans, have a case of main character syndrome. They read the Bible in the context that each and every word is for them, personally, and they are the victims, but they’re not. These books are literally about a very specific subset of people with specific beliefs: the Semitic tribes who worship Yahweh. That isn’t to say that you can’t take lessons from the Bible, because anyone can, but I think if you start reading the Bible as a white American Christian (especially if you are financially privileged) where people like you essentially control everything in the country on every level, and see yourself as an oppressed victim of slavery by an empire — you’ve already fucked up.

So I started rereading Exodus imagining Egypt as modern-day America, an imperialist country where the rich rule over the poor, founded on genocide and slavery, happily destroying other countries and the planet at large with mass industry and a military complex. And it made it a little easier for me to see the metaphors there without cringing so much.

Then, in the light of MLK Day on Monday, I recalled something I read in Althea Butler’s White Evangelical Racism, which I reviewed last year. Enslaved Africans were at times forcibly converted to Christianity, the religion of their captors. Many were kept intentionally illiterate, but occasionally, some enslaved people who could read were given copies of the Bible. The story of Moses freeing the slaves was often left out on purpose. Eventually, it broke through and Exodus became the centerpiece of Black faith throughout the 19th and 20th centuries.

(By the way, did you know that before the Hebrews left Egypt, they took gold and silver from their neighbors for the journey? That’s ancient reparations, baby.)

Anyone who says American evangelicals from the past “didn’t know any better” about slavery and segregation and stealing and murdering from indigenous peoples is clearly full of shit. There have ALWAYS been abolitionists and justice seekers — and many more who ignored their words, all because money and property and prosperity mattered more. They have always picked apart the Bible to serve Mammon, and unless they are stopped, always will.

I think, then, that Exodus is still a wildly important story no matter how rough it feels to me. There are still people in slavery, and there are people who might as well be. We are still controlled by people who don’t value human life more than wealth. It’s still a very harsh and cruel world out there, and a lot of people are waiting for God’s people to help them out.

The latter half of Exodus focuses on the Israelites post-freedom, the struggles of Moses to help them define their values and laws. Yahweh is further defined, based around the goals of the people. It also establishes a specific brand of monotheism. In Exodus, it’s interesting to know that nobody ever denies the existence of other gods, as other monotheist religions do today… they just maintain Yahweh God’s superiority over them, and that he specifically wants to be worshiped alone, instead of other gods. Monotheism was unusual at this point in ancient history, so the continual stories of Hebrew people seeking out other gods make a lot of sense. I mean, as far as they know, maybe the other god could get them more food or whatever. Yet another reason that providing for people’s needs is how to be the hands and feet of God more than any verses you might spit in their face.

But at the end of the story, there is freedom. It’s hard to imagine a world with real freedom. People today think freedom is just saying whatever you want, or ignoring medical science and forming dumb opinions based on nothing. Freedom is the ability to live without worry of loss of food, loss of family, loss of survival, loss of land. I don’t know if there are any countries that are free today. But I do know we need to keep striving for it. Martin Luther King, Jr. strode toward this kind of anti-capitalist, anti-imperialist freedom, despite whatever the white moderates tell you about what he “really meant” in catchy quips and meaningless Facebook quotes. (BTW, the majority of white people, especially Christians, especially evangelicals, hated MLK while he was alive — as much as they hate Black Lives Matter today.)

As long as we’re still out here looking for freedom, that’s a noble pursuit. And to that end, Exodus will always be relevant, especially to the most oppressed peoples.