Exodus or Elwood and Jake Get the Band Back Together

R emember when God told Jacob it was a good idea to go to Egypt? If I recall correctly his exact words were, “Come out to the coast, we’ll get together, have a few laughs” (see Gen. 46:3). That suggestion isn’t looking so hot anymore. According to Exodus 1, it’s officially Christmas Eve and Jacob’s descendants are trapped in the Nakatomi building with a bunch of crazy foreigners—judging by their clothing labels and cigarettes. Last time we saw the Egyptians they were slaves to their own king, indebted by the epic famine and Joseph’s slick bargaining. But the times, they are a-changin’. The new pharaoh has no knowledge of Joseph or his contribution to Egypt’s past survival (v. 8). It looks like Jeff Spicoli failed history class again. Pharaoh views Israel as a potential threat and their mad reproductive skills has him sweating over the demographics. In an attempt to curb their nonstop baby-making, he takes a page out of Simon Legree’s playbook and forces them into slave labor (v. 13). But when the Israelites continue to breed like rabbits, he resorts to plan B, instructing the Hebrew midwives to kill all of the male babies (vv. 15, 16). This guy makes Agatha Trunchbull look like a Mary Poppins. But this plan backfires as well when the midwives don’t play along. In a last-ditch effort, Pharaoh orders Hebrews and Egyptians alike to throw all newborn males into the river (v. 22). The edict is enough to make Vulgaria look like a kid-friendly destination.

But despite his best efforts, all Pharaoh manages to do is set the stage for an origin story the Marvel universe would be envious of. It all begins when a Levite couple, Amram and Jochebed, have a son. Well, actually they have sex first, but you know how it goes. Exodus 2 says Jochebed “saw that he was beautiful,” which seems like something any parent would think about their kid, but this time it’s apparently more than just motherly love (v. 2). In order to save her son Jochebed gives him the Elora Danan treatment, waterproofing a picnic basket and sending it downriver. She leaves her daughter, Miriam, on a stakeout to see how things turn out (vv. 3, 4). As luck would have it, it’s bath day for Pharaoh’s daughter, who spots the basket floating nearby. When she looks inside, she finds the boy crying and can’t resist his Puss in Boots sad eyes (v. 6). Miriam reveals herself at an opportune moment and conveniently offers to locate a wet nurse for her baby brother, which just so happens to be their mom. Unaware of the family relation, Pharaoh’s daughter gives the child to Jochebed to nurse and even pays her for the service (v. 9). Not only does the child live, his mom gets to spend quality time with him without having to dress up like Euphegenia Doubtfire. Once the boy is weaned, Jochebed takes him back to Pharaoh’s daughter, who officially adopts him and names him Moses (v. 10).

You’d think growing up in the royal palace as an Egyptian prince with the opportunity to become a richie and snag the throne would’ve been enough to put Moses on the Steff McKee path, but he never fully integrates with his adoptive family. If your image of Moses is the warrior prince Charlton Heston or Christian Bale portrayed in the movies, give yourself a fleet enema and call me in the morning. Moses isn’t the Maximus Decimus Meridius of his time. Way down the road in the New Testament there’s actually a passage that says he “refused to be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter” (take Route 66 to Albuquerque, Hebrews 11:24 is on the left next to the KFC). Despite his royal status, it’s clear Moses considers himself an outsider. He even makes a habit of observing the mistreatment of his kinsmen. He’s obviously conflicted. On one occasion, he comes across an Egyptian giving a Hebrew slave an Edwin Epps beatdown and can’t bear to stand by. Moses skips three rounds of Mortal Kombat by immediately breaking out his finishing move. The slave driver never knows what hit him. Thinking no one has seen him 187 the Egyptian, Moses gets rid of the body and is home in time for dinner (vv. 11, 12). But when he calls out two Hebrews for fighting the very next day, he gets the snarky reply, “Are you intending to kill me as you killed the Egyptian?” (v. 14). Moses barely has time to pack a bag before they rat him out.

With his face all over the six o’clock news, Moses throws together a John Brennan escape plan and gets out of town. He’s at a local watering hole in Median working out his next move when Reverend Eric Camden’s daughters show up to water their herd (v. 16). But no sooner do they arrive than a group of territorial shepherds chase them off. Moses proves he doesn’t like bullies once again by pulling a Kesuke Miyagi and single-handedly fending off the entire gang (v. 17). His heroics are good enough to win over Zipporah, one of the reverend’s seven daughters. According to Scripture, it’s already the third time a guy has scored by hanging out at a well (also see Gen. 24 and 29). Chazz Reinhold should take note. Moses makes the easy decision to move in with Zipporah and gets a job working for her dad, Jethro.

While Moses is making a new life for himself, God finally gets around to recognizing Israel’s predicament in Egypt. If you’re someone who adheres to the power of prayer, listen up. Scripture doesn’t describe God as an omniscient badass eager to solve problems with a Samantha Stevens nose twitch. Instead, it records a checklist he runs through on his way to confirming Israel needs help. Verses 24 and 25 describe a sequence of events almost identical to when he crashed the Eyes Wide Shut party at Sodom (see Gen. 18:20, 21). First, he hears Israel’s outcry. Second, he remembers his covenant (no, it doesn’t appear he got sidetracked playing Minecraft. It’s about timing again). Third, he sees/confirms their dilemma. And finally, he knows. Talk about methodical. Israel has been enslaved for over 100 years. God’s response time makes the line at the DMV seem like an Olympic sprint.

By the time Exodus 3 rolls around Moses has settled down and started a family. In fact, rumor has it he spent 40 years in Median—that’s long enough to switch loyalty in sports teams (see Acts 7:30 for more New Testament corroboration). He’s out shepherding Jethro’s flock one afternoon at Mount Sinai when he comes across what appears to be another one of Johnny Storm’s plasma fire pranks: a bush that burns without being incinerated (v. 2). He’s about to break out the marshmallows when God speaks from the fire, telling him to get his Fred Flintstone on since he’s on holy ground (v. 5). By now, we all know who’s talking, but he takes time to state the obvious anyway: “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob” (v. 6). As Austin Powers would say, “Allow myself to introduce… myself.” Moses is too busy doing a face plant to point out the redundancy.

God goes over his plan to rescue Israel from the bad guys, but Moses is more reluctant of going on an adventure than Bilbo Baggins: “Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh, and that I should bring the sons of Israel out of Egypt?” (v. 11). He actually has the balls to tell God he’s got the wrong guy for the job. God announces he’ll go with him, but Moses is still nervous people won’t believe him. He doesn’t want anyone thinking he’s pulling a Harley Quinn by listening to the voices in his head, so God gets specific and tells him what name to use when he speaks to Israel. English-language translations interpret the name as “I Am Who I Am”* (v. 14). It’s starting to sound like King James hired on Stan Lee and Jack Kirby as interpreters. Why not call him Galactus and drop the microphone? I Am implies he is. That’s about as ambiguous as Danny Ocean’s business card. The Hebrew text more specifically renders his name “I Will Be That Which I Will Be.” That’s a title you can actually wrap your head around. I Will Be is grounded in space and time. It indicates an ability to adapt to changing circumstances and environments. That’s refreshing. Maybe God isn’t so elusive, after all.

God finishes outlining his plan and assures Moses that the Israelites will listen to him, but in Exodus 4 Moses pushes back with the irrefutable, “No they won’t” (v. 1). To convince him further, God has to break out his Incredible Burt Wonderstone magic kit and dazzle him with a performance. God asks, “What is that in your hand?” and Moses says, “A staff” (v. 2). God tells him to toss it on the ground and when he does it becomes a snake. We all know he screamed like Sherman Schrader III when his staff started slithering around, but the text doesn’t tarnish Moses’ man card, which makes sense if he authored the Pentateuch. Next, God instructs him to pick it up by its tail, to which Moses replies, “That’s okay. I didn’t like that staff anyway. I’ll just get a new one.” Actually it says he catches the snake and it turns back into his old walking stick again (v. 4). Someone cue the Juggy Dance Squad. Moses is a regular one-man Man Show.

But even after the impromptu magic show, he’s still making excuses. Moses says he’s a poor public speaker and “slow of speech” (v. 10). Many scholars interpret this to mean he stuttered. As Billy Madison would say, “S-s-s-spit it out, junior!” But there’s no evidence he required assistance from Lionel Logue. Moses is simply saying he’s not clever enough to win a debate with Pharaoh. God plays the “I created you” card and says he’ll teach him what to say, but Moses remains unconvinced. He tells God to ask someone else (v. 13). Verse 14 says God’s anger “burned against Moses,” but instead of putting him in a chokehold and forcing him to submit like Tommy Riordan, he compromises yet again, suggesting Moses’ brother, Aaron, act as his spokesman.

God finally wins out and Moses returns to Egypt like a reluctant Rick O’Connell. After 40 years the statute of limitations is his best friend. And it doesn’t hurt that all of the Egyptian leaders who were after him are sleeping with the sand gnats. But before he can reach the city limits, Scripture says God “sought to put him to death” for not circumcising his newborn son in a timely fashion. It sounds extreme, but when your family’s contract with God only has one requirement it’s hard to get away with violating the agreement (read Gen. 17:12, but make sure your lawyer is present). God’s reaction is like Walter Sobchak’s response to Smokey’s bowling infraction: “You’re entering a world of pain.” But just when it looks like it’s curtains for Moses, Zipporah puts a notch in their kid’s Lincoln Log and God releases his death grip (vv. 24-26). Rick Blaine would not call this the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

After recovering from his near-death experience, Moses reunites with his older brother and relays everything God said. Aaron is immediately on board. The brothers are both in their eighties at this point, but they’ve got more energy than Barney Ross and Trench Mauser combined (see 7:7). They roll into Goshen together, where Moses promptly gets everyone’s attention by name-dropping I Will Be (or El Duderino, if you’re not into the whole brevity thing). Along with a repeat performance of the magic show, it’s enough to convince Israel their troubles are over.

There’s a lot of debate over which pharaoh was in power at the time of this story. General consensus is it took place during Egypt’s 18th Dynasty, but the reigning pharaoh likely wasn’t Ramesses II, who is always depicted in the movies. Yep. It’s time for another high colonic. Contrary to popular opinion, Moses and Pharaoh’s relationship wasn’t a Brennan Huff and Dale Doback scenario. Many scholars pinpoint the date to 1446 B.C.E. which would make Amuntotep I the baby-killer, his daughter, Hatshepsut, Moses’ adoptive mother, Thutmoses II king at the time of Moses’ escape and Thutmoses III the ruling pharaoh upon his return. But without sending in Lara Croft to raid some tombs, there’s no way of knowing for sure.

Exodus 5 records Moses and Aaron’s first interaction with Pharaoh. Knowing he won’t let Israel leave town permanently without putting up a fight, God instructs Moses to ease into the negotiation process by proposing a three-day Burning Man weekend (v. 3). The cleverness in this request is that he never says they’ll be coming back from the festival. But Pharaoh doesn’t bite. He wants to see God’s credentials: “Who is [God] that I should obey his voice?” (v. 2). They try to reason with him, but he cuts them off with a Dr. Evil “zip it!” speech. To make matters worse, their request inspires him to increase Israel’s workload exponentially (vv. 6-9). As Dean Wormer would say, “The time has come for someone to put his foot down—and that foot is me.”

In the aftermath of Pharaoh’s epic pushback, God shows up to reassure Moses everything is under control. Exodus 6 plays out like a mini therapy session, where Moses whines like Paul Vitti and God charges him 80 bucks an hour for being annoying (vv. 12, 30). But just when you think God is about to use the nitro boost and rush Israel out of town like Dominic Toretto, Exodus 7 announces his plan to “harden Pharaoh’s heart” and elongate the process (v. 3). Wait, what? Why would he encourage a guy who’s already power-tripping harder than Emperor Palpatine? No need to guess. God offers the answer in the same sentence when he says he’s out to multiply his signs across the land. To be fair, the Egyptians have it coming. You don’t drown babies and subject innocent people to Kalahari Prison conditions without karma biting you on the ass.

But before Pharaoh will even consider entertaining regular visits from Moses and Aaron, he requires them to “provide a wonder” to prove their credibility (v. 9). The magic show is officially on tour, but instead of applauding when the staff becomes a snake, Pharaoh brings out Thaddeus Bradley to replicate the trick. His sorcerers produce enough snakes to merit calling in Neville Flynn, but before things get out of hand Aaron’s staff/snake scarfs down the others (v. 12). It’s a cool trick, but it’s not enough to convince Pharaoh to let Israel go, so God sends Moses and Aaron back to cast a wacky wild, Kool-Aid style whammy on Egypt’s main water source, the Nile River (v. 20). But we’re not talking about fruit punch. Instead, the water turns to blood. That’s called happy hour at Fangtasia.

There are some who define the Egyptian plagues as natural phenomena. By this standard, water didn’t literally turn to blood, it was toxic algae. It sounds plausible. The only problem is it doesn’t fit the scriptural narrative. The text repeatedly says the events are demonstrations of God’s power, not environmental happenstance. That’s right. The eco system is redlining so hard Captain Planet probably suffered a mild stroke. Pharaoh’s sorcerers are able to emulate the first few plagues with the voodoo that they do before their bag of tricks runs dry in Exodus 8. Apparently, turning water to blood and multiplying frogs comes easy, but the bug infestation in verse 17 has them referring to their copy of Easy Spells to Fool Muggles and admitting the plague “is the finger of God” (v. 19). That’s high praise coming from a bunch of professional tricksters. But Pharaoh remains more skeptical than Will Braverman. He reneges on releasing Israel in the aftermath of each plague, going back on his word more than Grand Moff Tarkin. God doesn’t have to start strengthening his resolve until after the fifth plague (see 9:12). By the time Moses forecasts a fiery hailstorm in Exodus 9, many of Pharaoh’s advisors cut and run, acknowledging God’s authority and sheltering their servants and livestock ahead of the event (v. 20). Meanwhile, in Goshen, Israel remains unaffected by the plagues. They don’t even have to worry about epidemic or atmospheric threats, because God gives Goshen the Chester’s Mill treatment (vv. 6, 26).

God has a very particular set of skills. Skills that make him a nightmare for people like Pharaoh, but this isn’t about God going on a Bryan Mills revenge kick. Yeah, Egypt is catching hell for its inhumane practices, but that’s not where Scripture puts the emphasis. According to the text, God is actually using the events to attract national media coverage (v. 16). Seriously. But instead of having a sit-down interview with Barbara Walters, he drops an Imhotep curse on the place and lets word-of-mouth spread. The plan works. After the seventh plague, Pharaoh’s advisors are strapping themselves into the emergency escape pods. God’s method is about as subtle as twenty-four rounds from a TEC-9 and they aren’t interested in seeing him reload. In Exodus 10, they advise Pharaoh to release Israel: “Do you not realize that Egypt is being destroyed?”* (v. 7). But, like General Zod, he’s too stubborn to admit defeat and 300 cycles of somatic reconditioning in the Phantom Zone doesn’t do anything for his outlook. Pharaoh’s leadership no longer represents public opinion and, in Exodus 11, the Egyptian people go against his hardline stance. They’ve come to view Moses as a regular Jack Shepherd and are happy to empty their savings accounts at the Israelites’ request (vv. 2, 3). At this point, they’ll do anything to expedite the process.

But despite the differences between the people and their government, it doesn’t change the end result. The final plague comes on stronger than a Pai Mei three-inch punch. Moses forewarns Pharaoh one last time, announcing the impending death of all firstborn males (v. 5). Everyone living in Egypt will be affected, native and foreigner alike. But before the whole thing goes down in Exodus 12, God shares some Sanderson Sisters hocus-pocus with Israel so they can avoid the curse. If they follow his instruction, death will literally “pass over” their houses (v. 13). Pharaoh soon realizes he should’ve accepted the offer when he learns God has taken the Andromeda Strain out for a midnight stroll in his neighborhood (v. 29). The miscalculation costs Egypt big time. Pharaoh finally says uncle: “Rise up, get out from among my people … go, worship [God], as you have said” (v. 31). After all of the fake-outs and false promises, he practically shoves them out the door.

Once they get the green light, Israel heads for the nearest exit. After spending several hundred years in Egypt the thrill is gone. But their stay isn’t a total loss. Thanks to the Egyptians’ belated generosity, Israel rolls out of town in a Wagon Queen Family Truckster with enough gas money to reach Walley World. And if that’s not enough, they get stock options, too. The Egyptians are left with their pockets turned inside out like Randolph and Mortimer Duke (v. 36). Looks like God wasn’t joking around when he read the tea leaves in Genesis 15:14. But the exodus isn’t exclusive to Israel. Scripture says “a mixed multitude also went up with them” (v. 38). Apparently, anyone who acknowledges God is a welcome addition (v. 48). This puts a Five-Token Band twist on God’s chosen people. Turns out, they’re more diverse than William McKinley High School’s glee club.

The book of Exodus finally lives up to its title in chapter 13 when God takes Israel and company out of slavery and puts Egypt in the rearview mirror. To avoid a confrontation with the trigger-happy Philistines, he takes the scenic route. The last thing he wants is Israel chickening out and running back to Egypt (v. 17). God plays Abigail Boylen by day, using a cloud to guide the people. At night, he breaks out his pyrokinetic flight abilities and leads them around like the Human Torch, except, you know, not human (v. 21). But they haven’t gotten far before Pharaoh cracks harder than Max Rockatansky over the death of his son and calls on his army to chase Israel down. The thought of losing all of the free labor doesn’t settle well either. In Exodus 14, God allows Pharaoh to act on his heart’s desire for one last display of self-promotion (v. 4). Israel is camped by the Sea of Reeds (aka Red Sea) when Pharaoh catches up to them. As Ulysses Everett McGill would say, “Damn! We’re in a tight spot.”

The people get in Moses’ face when they see the Egyptian army bearing down on them harder than Stuntman Mike McKay. Moses decides prayer is the answer, but, in an unexpected turn, God cuts him short: “Why are you crying out to Me? Tell the sons of Israel to go forward” (v. 15). God actually shuts down the prayer session in favor of the Israelites punching the “Go Baby Go” button and smoking their tires like Memphis Raines. While the people march toward an uncertain fate, the text says God “swept the sea back with a strong east wind all night … so the waters were divided” (v. 21). Wind energy is no joke, guys. God holds off the Egyptian army long enough to create the escape route. But when Pharaoh sees Israel getting away, he slides into his 1968 green Ford Mustang GT and speeds after them with more dedication than Frank Bullitt. It doesn’t look good for Israel, especially those bringing up the rear. As Elwood Blues would say, “Our Lady of Blessed Acceleration, don’t fail me now!” With a wall of water on either side, they cross the Sea of Reeds just ahead of Pharaoh’s army, with God stepping in at the last minute to foil them by causing their chariots to come apart like Buford T. Justice’s police car (v. 25). While they’re busy putting on spare tires, he turns off the wind machine and the water collapses on them with deadly results (v. 28). It’s safe to say anyone close enough to smell the salt air that day either acknowledged God or checked themselves into the Betty Ford Clinic.

When the Israelites see the bodies of the Egyptian soldiers wash up on shore, they have a come-to-Jesus moment (vv. 30, 31). The only thing they can think to do is break out in song. The tune is recorded in Exodus 15 and sounds like a cross between a church hymn and a Nelson Muntz laugh. The question of God’s trustworthiness is beginning to solidify. Turns out, the hard part is swallowing his authority once he gets to town. Pharaoh and the Egyptians just happen to be the mooks who faced his Mark Kaminsky coming out party. God has officially taken the company public. He’s the God of Israel (and anyone else who wants to join in), not because they deserve it, but “for the sake of His Name, [t]hat He might make His power known” (see Psalms 106:7-12). Yep. It’s gonna be like that. Remember all those conversations he had with Abraham back in Genesis? Apparently, this is what it looks like when God lives up to promises he never made. So much for keeping a low profile. God just held a press conference and outed himself as Iron Man. It’s the kind of announcement that encourages a whole new set of questions. What happens next will define the kind of hero/villain God intends to be.