When you
focus only on what counts, you’ll end up losing track of what really matters.
That’s the lesson Pharaoh learns, the hard way, in Exodus 1 and 2, our Old
Testament reading for this morning. Years have passed since Joseph, the great
prince adviser of Egypt, died. Once welcomed with open arms, the Israelites, or
the Hebrews, have become a nuisance to the Egyptian monarchy. Pharaoh, a new
Pharaoh, fears the Israelites. There’s no reason to fear them—they’ve done
nothing, as far as we can tell, but live peaceably in Egypt. Like every other
Pharaoh, Egyptian or not, this new king invents a problem so that he can
satisfy his bloodlust.
Pharaoh’s
solution is horrifying. First, he orders hard labor for the Hebrews, forcing
them to build new cities. But it’s not enough for Pharaoh. Next, he commands
the midwives to murder Hebrew boys at birth. When that plan fizzles, Pharaoh
orders every male Hebrew child tossed into the Nile.
As cruel
and inhuman a plan as it is, Pharaoh’s approach makes sense in the ancient Near
East. Boys were the only ones who counted. Lineage was passed down from father
to son; mothers and daughters were worthless. Get rid of the Hebrew males, and
you eliminate the Hebrew people. But if you focus only on what counts, you’ll
end up losing track of what really matters. And that’s exactly what happens to
Pharaoh. Only the boys counts, so Pharaoh focuses on them. The real threat to
Pharaoh is not from the men—it’s from the women.
Again and
again, so many times in this relatively short passage, the women in Egypt
undermine Pharaoh’s genocidal intentions. First two midwives, Shiphrah and
Puah, refuse to kill the Hebrew boys. They know what matters, not just what
counts. They fear God and disobey the king, even lying to his face: “The Hebrew
women are vigorous and give birth before the midwife comes to them,” they say.
God does not reward their lying, but God does honor their refusal to kill and
grants each midwife a family of her own.
Stymied by
the midwives, Pharaoh orders all male Hebrew babies thrown into the Nile. So a
Hebrew woman, Jochebed, marries Amram and bears a son. After hiding the child
for months, she obeys the king’s command and throws the boy into the Nile. Oh,
the Pharaoh thinks he’s so smart; he will “deal shrewdly” with the Israelites.
Jochebed, though—she’s the crafty one. Pharaoh only said the Hebrew children
had to be thrown into the Nile. Pharaoh never said the boys had to be thrown in
without any help. And he didn’t say anything about pulling them out again. So
Jochebed outsmarts Pharoah. And, by the way, let me say that 3000 years later
there are men who still haven’t learned Pharaoh’s lesson, who still treat women
as inferior, as second-class citizens at work, at home—even at church. Thank
God that God knows better than Pharaoh and us men. But I digress.
Jochebed outsmarts Pharaoh. She
puts her son into a homemade boat, an ark, really, and sends him down the
river. Surely Jochebed trusts in the Lord as she gives up her son.
A fourth
woman now enters the conspiracy against Pharaoh: Miriam, Jochebed’s daughter.
Miriam follows the reed boat as it sails along until it reaches—Pharoah’s
daughter. And Pharoah’s daughter, she picks up the child from the boat,
recognizes him as a Hebrew boy, and keeps him anyway. Pharaoh’s daughter
becomes the fifth woman to stand up to Pharaoh. And as soon as she’s pulled the
boy from the water, Miriam boldly steps out from the shadows and offers to find
a wet nurse for the child—his own mother. Pharaoh’s daughter names the boy
Moses. This might be the funniest story in the entire Bible. Think about it: by
the end of our passage, Moses, the boy who will one day lead Israel out of
Egypt, just as Pharaoh had feared, is living in Pharaoh’s house, raised by
Pharaoh’s daughter, who is paying Moses’s mother to nurse her own child, whom
she was supposed to kill. All because Pharaoh focused only on the boys who
counted and ignored the women who mattered. Pharaoh feared the thousands of
boys growing up into warriors and rebels, but it was five “insignificant” women
who brought him down.
God, on the
other hand, does not care about what counts according to human standards. God
cares about what matters. God cares about the faith of these women, who trusted
God enough to stand up to oppression and injustice, women who risked their
lives and their children to thwart the cruel intentions of a powerful ruler.
God cares that these women respect and love him more than they fear the Pharaoh
on the throne. God does not focus on what counts; he keeps track of what
matters.
You know,
there are so many examples from today, right now, of people focusing on what
counts and losing track of what matters—I could go on all day. But let me bring
this home to our church, the United Methodist Church, and to our congregation,
Centre UMC. I love the United Methodist Church. I don’t always like it, but,
God help me, I do love it. Our denomination, the United Methodist Church, loves
things that count. We count every dollar to make sure our apportionments are
sufficient. We count every church, every congregation, every Annual Conference
member. Above all, we love to count members. Our church is obsessed with new
members, losing members, big member churches—we love to count members. And I am
convinced that our love of counting members distracts us from tending to what
really matters.
Today at
Centre we are about to welcome three new members to our congregation. So what?
If we don’t provide discipleship opportunities for Ann, Libby, and Nathaniel,
who cares whether or not we added them to the rolls? If we don’t let them
challenge us in our journey as disciples in Christ together at Centre, who
cares if we can report our membership gain next month at Charge Conference? And
if Ann, Libby, and Nathaniel force us to grow deeper in our faith, how do we
count that in our record books? If they teach us to stand up to injustice and
oppression, what number do we put for the Charge Conference report? If God
works through them to lead us to the cross of Jesus Christ, what line number do
we enter that on?
Now before
we get too judgmental of our denomination’s love of counting, let’s remember
that we can fall into the same trap here at Centre. I’ve spent a lot of time in
my first eight weeks here talking about how we need to focus on this problem or
that repair. Stewardship of our resources, including our buildings, is one
thing. If we’re not careful, it’s easy for these conversations to take over,
for all our attention to be devoted to things that count. Are we sure we aren’t
also letting what counts keep us away from what matters?
In
preparing for the exodus of his people Israel from Egypt, God looked for what
mattered. Pharaoh looked for what counted. May we today be found insignificant
enough that God would call us, also, to great faithfulness. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment