Scripture Exodus 5:1-2, 7:8-23
Afterward Moses and Aaron went to Pharaoh and said, “Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, ‘Let my people go, so that they may celebrate a festival to me in the wilderness.’” But Pharaoh said, “Who is the Lord, that I should heed him and let Israel go? I do not know the Lord, and I will not let Israel go.”
The Lord said to Moses and Aaron, “When Pharaoh says to you, ‘Perform a wonder,’ then you shall say to Aaron, ‘Take your staff and throw it down before Pharaoh, and it will become a snake.’” So Moses and Aaron went to Pharaoh and did as the Lord had commanded; Aaron threw down his staff before Pharaoh and his officials, and it became a snake. Then Pharaoh summoned the wise men and the sorcerers; and they also, the magicians of Egypt, did the same by their secret arts. Each one threw down his staff, and they became snakes; but Aaron’s staff swallowed up theirs. Still Pharaoh’s heart was hardened, and he would not listen to them, as the Lord had said.
Then the Lord said to Moses, “Pharaoh’s heart is hardened; he refuses to let the people go. Go to Pharaoh in the morning, as he is going out to the water; stand by at the river bank to meet him, and take in your hand the staff that was turned into a snake. Say to him, ‘The Lord, the God of the Hebrews, sent me to you to say, “Let my people go, so that they may worship me in the wilderness.” But until now you have not listened. Thus says the Lord, “By this you shall know that I am the Lord.” See, with the staff that is in my hand I will strike the water that is in the Nile, and it shall be turned to blood. The fish in the river shall die, the river itself shall stink, and the Egyptians shall be unable to drink water from the Nile.’” The Lord said to Moses, “Say to Aaron, ‘Take your staff and stretch out your hand over the waters of Egypt—over its rivers, its canals, and its ponds, and all its pools of water—so that they may become blood; and there shall be blood throughout the whole land of Egypt, even in vessels of wood and in vessels of stone.’”
Moses and Aaron did just as the Lord commanded. In the sight of Pharaoh and of his officials he lifted up the staff and struck the water in the river, and all the water in the river was turned into blood, and the fish in the river died. The river stank so that the Egyptians could not drink its water, and there was blood throughout the whole land of Egypt. But the magicians of Egypt did the same by their secret arts; so Pharaoh’s heart remained hardened, and he would not listen to them, as the Lord had said. Pharaoh turned and went into his house, and he did not take even this to heart.
Meditation
There’s something you should know about me.
I didn’t grow up with the Bible, per se. I grew up in a tradition in which we were expected to leave scripture to the religious professionals, and allow them to tell us what was what. And they did! I grew up with a love for Jesus, and intrigued by the Holy Spirit, and a conviction that God loved me—which is a lot, so I’m grateful.
But I didn’t, for instance, memorize Bible verses as a little kid. I didn’t memorize Bible facts. I didn’t learn to recite all the books of the Bible in order, or even the Ten Commandments. I didn’t learn about the Ten Plagues of Egypt.
So, back in August, when I was planning to preach this sermon, I read this passage from Exodus, and thought, “Oh. That plague. The plague of turning the Nile River to blood. That’s a bad one.”
And what escaped me entirely, at that point, was the fact that this is the first plague. This is God, right out of the gate, all up in Pharaoh’s face, saying, “You want a piece of my people? Take THIS.”
And I admit it. I’m shocked.
I’m shocked by God. I would have expected God to start small, with the plagues, maybe start with the flies—buzzing around, annoying, maddening, even—and then to build up to this one. Because this is bad. Really bad. God has turned the river to blood.
To re-iterate: Moses has grown up. He has left Egypt and met Zipporah, daughter of the Priest of Midian, and gotten married. He’s been herding her father’s flocks. And he’s had an astonishing encounter in the wilderness, and encounter with God, Godself, during which God spoke to him out of the flames of some shrubbery, which was on, but did not burn up. And in that encounter God has instructed Moses to return to Egypt, because, in the face of Pharaoh’s despicable behavior, his ongoing determination to keep God’s people in chains, God is conscripting Moses to be the Divine Spokesperson. To go right up to Pharaoh, and to say, on God’s behalf, “LET MY PEOPLE GO.”
And that’s where we come into the story today—Moses, with his brother and wingman Aaron, goes to Pharaoh, and does just that. And—just to let Pharaoh know what he’s dealing with, Moses takes God’s advice and shows Pharaoh just the tiniest glimpse of God’s power, turning Moses’ staff into a snake.
Pharaoh’s not impressed. He has court magicians, they can do that kind of thing too. They promptly turn staffs into snakes (though—they probably look a little sick to their stomachs when Moses’ snake eats all their snakes).
Anyway, Pharaoh stands warned. And his hart is hardened… he knows what he wants, and it’s people in chains, people without rights, people treated as animals.
Why is his heart hardened? We have to wonder. Is it power? Is it wealth? Is it the expectation of everything that comes with the office of Pharaoh? All we know—at this point, anyway—is that his heart will not soften. The answer is no.
So Moses unleashes the first in a series of ten plagues on him.
And it’s this one: Moses throws his staff in the Nile River, and all the water in the river is turned to blood. The fish die. The water becomes undrinkable.
I know most of you were present for the beautiful worship time last Sunday, in which the Rev. Michelle Wahila led us in a liturgy to remember our baptisms. In her prayer, she reminded us of all the ways scripture talks about water. She prayed,
Out of chaos, your Spirit created. You moved over the waters breathing life into all that came into being by your imaginative Word.
As we gaze upon your creation, we see the restorative cycle of water. The storms roll in, droplets fall, the earth is nourished, and water is drawn back into the canvas of the sky to begin the sequence again.
We give you thanks, Eternal God, for You nourish and sustain all living things by the gift of water.
Water is life. That is what makes this plague so shocking. To make water undrinkable is to put a stop on the essential ingredient to all life—the water the people drink, from childhood to adulthood to elderhood, that makes possible the functioning of their bodies; the water plants need, in order for crops to grow, for life to be sustained; the water animals need to survive. Water is life. To turn the Nile into blood feels as if God starts out BIG—with the worst plague imaginable. (Which, eventually we learn, it’s not.)
Does God have a strategy here—kind of a, “go big or go home” opening gambit? Perhaps a “show your big moves in hopes no further action will be necessary” approach? I wonder.
Because, despite the fact that his people are digging in the dirt by the banks of the Nile River in a desperate search for any drinkable drop, despite the fact that every fish in the Nile is belly up, despite the stink and the horror of it… Pharaoh’s heart remains hardened.
He will not be moved—though no one can survive without water for long.
He will not budge—though the people he’s supposed to care for are
suffering.
He will not change—though the power of the God of Israel confronts him with this dreadful sight.
And that’s where our passage ends: with Pharaoh unraveling God’s plans for justice and restoration. With Moses’ plans unraveling, too.
And—let’s be honest. This kind of impasse seems to describe much of history. God creating human beings for one kind of existence, and humans, being human, going off on another path entirely. Or, humans choosing the path that will bring the most pain, the most harm, the most devastation.
This is the moment when so many of us lose heart, lose hope. This is the moment so many of our “unraveling” stories have pointed to… Job, with his many terrible losses; the exiles, in what feels like a hopelessly foreign land and life; Peter, filled with uncertainty and falling into the deep; even our quirky reading of Revelation, with communication that is breaking relationships apart instead of weaving them back together.
But God always chooses to weave us back together. God always chooses to help us out of the abyss. God always shows us the path to life.
And there can be a point when we can’t see the path, when the pattern of God’s design is obscured to us. But we know the end of this story. This story returns to water, and in the stories of God’s people, water is life. As Michelle reminded us last week, Water is the material of miracles. And God’s promise in this story is that the water will return, and renew, and refresh. Not only that, God will use the water as the vehicle for deliverance: what was turned into a symbol for death will once again bring life.
That is God’s ongoing promise. You might even say, God is always re-forming us, making us ready for such moments. In the presence of uncertainty, or loss, or even abject evil, God invites us, still, to hope for what is beyond this moment.
Beyond what we see now: Life. Beyond the news update at the top of the hour: Hope. Beyond the hardship, and the loss, and the frustration: Peace. The assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. A living faith that trusts in the God who will, truly, weave us back together into something more beautiful than we can imagine.
We wait for it. We hope in it. We trust in it.
Thanks be to God. Amen.