There are stories that seem to belong to history, neatly tucked away in the past, like ancient relics behind museum glass. And then there are stories that, despite their age, feel startlingly alive, as though they are whispering some great secret about our own lives—if only we have the ears to hear it. The Exodus is one of the latter.
I suspect most of us, if we are honest, have found ourselves in Egypt. Not the Egypt of Pharaohs and pyramids, but the Egypt of enslavement—whether to sin, to fear, or to the comfortable chains of habit. The Egypt where, though life is hard, at least it is familiar, and the thought of real change is far more terrifying than the misery we know.
For some, Egypt is a gilded prison, where pleasure numbs the soul just enough to make one forget he is a slave at all. For others, it is a more obvious captivity—addiction, resentment, despair. And then, of course, there comes a moment when we hear the call to leave. The moment when God, through some Moses-figure in our lives, unsettles us with the notion that we were never meant to be slaves at all.
And yet, here is the great paradox: when the time comes to flee, we find ourselves reluctant. Egypt may be bondage, but at least we know its rules. The wilderness ahead is uncertain. The sea before us is impassable. And so we waver—hesitant, half-willing, half-afraid—just as the Israelites did when Pharaoh’s army came thundering behind them.
But here, in this ancient story, lies the great hope: the waters are before us, waiting to part. The Eucharist, the true manna from Heaven, is there to sustain us. And the Promised Land—though distant—is real. The only question is whether we will go forward or turn back.
Egypt: The Land of Comfortable Chains
Egypt, in the Exodus story, is more than a place; it is a condition of the soul. The Israelites were not just physically enslaved—they were spiritually enslaved. They had been there so long that slavery had become their normal, just as sin, once embraced, weaves itself into the fabric of our lives.
The Passover—the moment of their deliverance—hinges entirely on the blood of the lamb. It is not their own strength, cleverness, or merit that saves them, but the sacrifice offered in their place. Here is the first great truth: we do not escape Egypt by sheer willpower. It is God who saves, and it is His blood that marks us for deliverance.
The Crisis at the Sea: When Faith Must Become Action
If Egypt is sin, the Red Sea is the place of decision. The Israelites, having escaped Pharaoh’s grip, find themselves trapped. The sea is before them; Pharaoh’s chariots are behind them. And, like any reasonable people, they panic.
“Would that we had died in Egypt!” they cry (Exodus 14:12).
One might laugh at their foolishness—until one realizes how many times we have done the same. How often, when faced with difficulty, have we longed to return to the very things that enslaved us? How often have we doubted that God would make a way?
Moses tells them, quite reasonably: “Stand firm. The Lord will fight for you.” And yet, God interrupts.
“Why do you cry to me? Tell the people to go forward!” (Exodus 14:15)
This is no rebuke, but a revelation: Faith must mature into obedience. There is a time to trust, and there is a time to step forward.
The Christian life, it seems, requires both. We are justified by faith, but faith without action is dead. The waters will part, but not while we stand still in fear. We must step forward before the miracle happens.
The Red Sea: Baptism and the Death of the Old Life
Moses, standing as a Christ-figure, stretches out his staff—the wood foreshadowing the Cross—and the sea is divided. The east wind blows (the Holy Spirit at work), and the Israelites pass through.
This, St. Paul tells us, is baptism (1 Corinthians 10:1-2). Through the waters, they are not merely escaping Egypt; they are being transformed into a new people. And when the sea closes over Pharaoh’s armies, their past life—sin, slavery, all of it—is obliterated.
“The Egyptians whom you see today, you shall never see again.” (Exodus 14:13)
So too in baptism and reconciliation, our sins are not just forgiven; they are drowned. They are gone. As if God Himself has chosen to forget them (Hebrews 8:12).
The Wilderness: The Pilgrimage of the Church
But—and this is the part we often wish were different—the journey does not end at the sea. The Israelites do not step out of the water and straight into paradise. They step into the wilderness.
Here is where the real struggle begins.
The wilderness is where faith is tested. It is the long, hard road of sanctification, the daily dying to self, the choosing of trust when there is nothing visible to rely on. It is the place where Israel, despite all God has done, will still grumble, still long for Egypt, still struggle to believe.
And yet, God does not leave them alone. He feeds them with manna, the bread from heaven, which foreshadows the Eucharist, the elixir of divine life that strengthens us for the journey.
In our own lives, after baptism, after conversion, we too enter the wilderness. We find that sin is not so easily shaken off, that faith is not always easy, that we long, at times, for the old life. But grace sustains us. The Eucharist nourishes us. And if we persevere, the Promised Land awaits.
The True Joshua Leads Us Home
In the end, it is not Moses who brings Israel into the Promised Land. It is Joshua, whose name in Hebrew is Yeshua—”God Saves.”
This is no coincidence. Just as Moses represents the Law, which can only bring us so far, Joshua represents Jesus, who alone leads us into our eternal inheritance.
And what awaits at the end of this long journey? Not just any land, but the land where, as St. Paul says:
“Death is swallowed up in victory.” (1 Corinthians 15:54)
The Great Question: Will We Go Forward?
And so, we return to where we began.
The Exodus is not just a story—it is our story.
We are all, at some point, faced with the choice: Remain in Egypt, or go forward?
God has made the way. The waters of baptism stand open. The Bread of Heaven is given for the journey. The Promised Land is real.
The only question left is whether we will trust Him enough to take the next step.
