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Now a man from the house of Levi went and married a daughter of Levi. The woman conceived and bore a son; and when she saw that he was beautiful, she hid him for three months. But when she could hide him no longer, she got him a wicker basket and covered it over with tar and pitch. Then she put the child into it and set it among the reeds by the bank of the Nile. (Exodus 2:1–3, NASB)
If you’ve read the book of Exodus, or, for that matter, the title above, you know who the child in the basket was. But what of his family? We know his mother was the motherly type — she thought her son was beautiful, as all mothers do. It seems she was quite adventurous too because her scheme to save her son was quite unorthodox and doesn’t seem quite safe. And the father? We know he was a descendant of Levi named Amram and that’s all the Scriptures say. We’re introduced to the baby’s big sister who watched over him as he floated among the reeds. She, it seems, was a smart little cookie. She hatched a plan to get the baby back into his mother’s arms while earning some income on the side.
We also meet the daughter of Pharoah who, upon seeing the baby in the basket, recognized him as a Hebrew child. I’m not sure if that was because he looked like a Hebrew or because not many Egyptian boys were found floating around in reed baskets. Either way, the pharaoh’s daughter sent her maids a-wading, and he became her son.
Let’s stop right there. The pharaoh’s daughter found the baby in the basket because the pharaoh was killing Hebrew boys, and now she, knowing full well that this child was a Hebrew, adopts him? This was one compassionate, courageous woman who put herself in danger to deliver this child. Otherwise, we know very little of her, but I’ll take a wild guess that she and her dad weren’t very close. He was obviously oblivious that one of the children of Israel was living under his roof.
And she named him Mosheh (we’re talking Hebrew now because it’s important) and said, “Because I drew him out of the water.” (Exodus 2:10b)
Every time she called his name she was reminded of the day she drew him out of the reeds, and each time she said his name she was prophesying that he would be the one to draw the Hebrews out of bondage and deliver them through the sea of reeds.
Now, as the saying goes, this wasn’t so cut and dried. (Who makes up these sayings, anyway?) If the pharaoh’s daughter gave her son a Hebrew name, her father would know something was up. But it just so happens there is an Egyptian word — mose — that was part of many Egyptian names. It meant “born to” or “son of,” and was always followed by some deified ancestor’s name. Except in the case of our man Mosheh. His name stopped short. His name was “son of” followed by nothing.
And that was just the beginning of Moses’ identity crisis.
Now it came about in those days, when Moses had grown up, that he went out to his brethren and looked on their hard labors; and he saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, one of his brethren. (Exodus 2:11, NASB)
It appears by this time Moses knew he was a Hebrew. Or not. The narrator is telling this story long after the secret was out, and he may be just reminding his listeners that Son of Nothing was a Hebrew. Who knows?
We do know this about Moses: he carried a sense of justice. He knew that beating another, be they brethren or not, was wrong. And seeing injustice, he was moved.
So he looked this way and that, and when he saw there was no one around, he struck down the Egyptian and hid him in the sand. (Exodus 2:12, NASB)
A sense of justice, yes. A head for wisdom? No. Feeling compassion, he responded in anger. And in fear, he hid his sin.
He went out the next day, and behold, two Hebrews were fighting with each other; and he said to the offender, “Why are you striking your companion?” But he said, “Who made you a prince or a judge over us? Are you intending to kill me as you killed the Egyptian?” Then Moses was afraid and said, “Surely the matter has become known.” (Exodus 2:13–14, NASB)
Surely.
It appears these men knew who Moses was. Or did they? Did they simply know him as “son of (blank)”? Did the Hebrew slaves think Moses was an Egyptian? He wasn’t, after all, in the trenches making bricks. He was out with the freemen, walking around.
When Pharaoh heard of this matter, he tried to kill Moses. But Moses fled from the presence of Pharaoh and settled in the land of Midian, and he sat down by a well. Now the priest of Midian had seven daughters; and they came to draw water and filled the troughs to water their father’s flock. Then the shepherds came and drove them away, but Moses stood up and helped them and watered their flock. (Exodus 2:15–17, NASB)
Moses’ sense of justice was stirred again. Given what had happened the last time he acted, it would have been reasonable if he had done nothing. But he did, and this time became a hero rather than a fugitive.
When they came to Reuel their father, he said, “Why have you come back so soon today?” So they said, “An Egyptian delivered us from the hand of the shepherds, and what is more, he even drew the water for us and watered the flock.” (Exodus 2:18–19, NASB)
An Egyptian?
Why would they call Moses an Egyptian? Did he look like an Egyptian? Had he told them he was an Egyptian? In any case, it appears Moshe/Mose didn’t tell them any differently.
Reuel said to his daughters, “Where is he then? Why is it that you have left the man behind? Invite him in to have something to eat.” (Exodus 2:20, NASB)
The meal turned into a marriage, and Moses ceased his wandering. He became a Hebrew living in a tent with some Midianites who thought he was an Egyptian. When he and Reuel’s daughter had a son, he named him Gershom, because, he said,
“I have been a sojourner in a foreign land.” (Exodus 2:22b, NASB)
But which foreign land would that be? Egypt? Midian? Maybe he didn’t feel at home anywhere. Who was he, anyway?
One day while out tending sheep, Moses came across a rubus sanctus. But something about this dry and thorny bush was different. Though rubus sanctus often caught fire in the heat, this one didn’t burn up.
When the Lord saw that he turned aside to look, God called to him from the midst of the bush and said, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.” Then He said, “Do not come near here; remove your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” He said also, “I am the God of your father… (Exodus 3:4–6a, NASB)
Wait a second. Something’s missing. Does your Bible have a typo, too? Shouldn’t it say, “the God of your fathers” as in “the God of your fathers; the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob”? God calls himself that a half-dozen times or so. So who left off the “s”? Are the editors asleep on the job? Did the Masoretes miss it? Perhaps it doesn’t matter.
Or does it?
Who was his father, anyway?
The LORD said: “Now, behold, the cry of the sons of Israel has come to Me; furthermore, I have seen the oppression with which the Egyptians are oppressing them. Therefore, come now, and I will send you to Pharaoh, so that you may bring My people, the sons of Israel, out of Egypt.” (Exodus 3:9–10, NASB)
So here it was: Moses’ big chance to do something with his desire to fight injustice.
But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” (Exodus 3:11, NIV)
I don’t have a name; I don’t have a people. I don’t have a country. The last time I saw Egypt I was looking over my shoulder, running fast. God’s answer? “I AM WHO I AM.” He didn’t address Moses’ lack of identity but rather gave him His.
Your name doesn’t matter. Where you came from doesn’t matter. Your lack of experience or ability or self-confidence doesn’t matter. This is who you are, God said. You are the one I AM has sent.
“But what if they don’t believe me?” “I’ll show them.” “I’m not good at speaking.” “I’ll give you the words.”
That should have settled it.
But Moses said, “Pardon your servant, Lord. Please send someone else.”
Then the Lord’s burned against Moses, and He said, “What about your brother, Aaron the Levite? I know he can speak well.” (Exodus 4:13-14a, NIV)
“Wait! I have a brother?” “Uh huh.”
“He is already on his way to meet you, and he will be glad to see you.” (Exodus 4:14b, NIV)
Now, what excuse could Moses possibly have?
He had purpose. He had a people. He had a God who made him who he was.
“Who gave human beings their mouths? Who makes them deaf or mute? Who gives them sight or makes them blind? Is it not I, the Lord? Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.” Exodus 4:11
Onward.
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