Navigating the Narrow Places
The story told during the Passover seder offers clues for getting through the stuck, difficult times in our lives. We can team up. We can listen to the inner voice of wholeness. We can remember stories of resilience.
I don’t know if the story happened exactly this way, but I believe it’s true. The story begins in the land of Mitzrayim, which means “the narrow places.” We know this land as Egypt. Long, long ago, the Hebrews were slaves in the land of Mitzrayim, making bricks out of mud and straw and using them to build the pyramids. The Pharaoh was suspicious of such a large group of guest workers with their own language and customs. He decreed that, because the Hebrews were becoming too numerous, all of the boy babies would be killed. (Exodus 1:8-14)
One Hebrew couple, Amram and Yochevet, discussed the new threat. Amram thought they should resolve to stop having children. After all, where else would they go? The Hebrews had been slaves for hundreds of years. They had been in Mitzrayim so long, they didn’t even remember how to get back to land of their ancestors. Their daughter Miriam, although only a child, was already a prophet.
She said, “I think that we are stuck. We have been slaves for so long that we have forgotten how to be free. Pharaoh’s threat would kill all of the boy babies, but your plan would kill the girls as well. Do not do the oppressor’s work for him. We will find a way.” (This “quote” from Miriam is not in the text from Exodus, but it is similar to some of the midrash and some Passover retellings. I was inspired by “A Haggadah of Liberation” in Shalom Seders from the New Jewish Agenda.)
Yochevet gave birth to a son. You may know the story about how he was hidden in a basket on the river. You might remember that the Pharaoh’s daughter found him, adopted him, and named him Moses. Miriam offered to help the Pharaoh’s daughter find a nurse for the baby, and brought his own mother. So it was that Moses grew up knowing his roots, but sheltered from the oppression of his people. (Exodus 2:1-10)
After he grew to be a young man, Moses killed an Egyptian who had beaten one of the Hebrew slaves, then fled the country to escape the Pharaoh’s punishment. Moses ended up in Midian, married a woman named Zipporah, and settled down to tend the flocks of his father-in-law, Jethro. (Exodus 2:11-22)
One day while he was out shepherding, Moses had a vision of a bush that burned, but was not consumed. A voice called to Moses, and he answered, “Here I am.” Moses was called to return to Mitzrayim and to lead his people out of their suffering. Moses objected that his own people would not believe him, that he was not eloquent enough for the task. (Exodus 3:1-4:13)
The voice replied, “Moses, I think you are stuck. You have a comfortable life here, but the Hebrews are my people and your people, and they are crying out. I will call your brother Aaron to go with you.” (Yes, this is a paraphrase, not a quote. See Exodus 4:14) And so it was that Aaron came out to the desert to reunite with Moses and to make plans for change. (Exodus 4:27)
I’ll say more in a bit about the Exodus story. There were struggles and setbacks on the way to freedom. Passover is coming up a week from tomorrow night, so it’s the perfect time of year to revisit this story. During the Passover meal on the first night of the holiday, Jews and their friends all over the world remember the Exodus. The story and the ritual meal is meant to invite discussion about freedom, remembering the ways we have been liberated and the ways we have yet to extract freedom from the narrow places.
Sometimes “Mitzrayim,” the narrow places, are situations where we are caught up in a system of injustice. Mitzrayim can be habits or attitudes that keep us from thriving to our fullest potential. When we need to find a passage through a tight spot in order to be the kind of people we are called to be, we are in the narrow places.
So far in the story, we’ve heard a couple of hints about resources we can use in the narrow places. First of all, we can team up. Partnering with another person or being part of a group struggling with the same tight spot gives us exponential energy to make it through. This worked for Moses, Aaron, and Miriam.
Second, we listen to the call. The voice of justice, liberation, and wholeness speaks to all of us in different ways, yet I believe we can recognize an authentic call when we hear it. There are also forces that resist the voice of wholeness. Self-doubt like what Moses expressed is one of those forces. An imbalanced status quo has powers of backlash and confusion that will try to drown out the call. We do the best we can by listening to the truth as we know it.
Third, we remember. Legends from spiritual traditions, family stories, and personal stories all have examples of resilience. Our ancestors and we have faced challenges before, and we can do it again. The Hebrews in Mitzrayim could reach back, deep into their history, to remember a time when they were free. Miriam and Aaron and Moses could remember how their parents made a choice to affirm life in spite of the violence in their world. Every year, Passover is another opportunity to remember.
Team Up
The first clue in the story is that no one character is all-powerful. Moses isn’t perfect. Even God needs help to move people toward freedom. We learn that teaming up is a strategy for navigating the narrow places.
When this story is told on the first night of Passover, families read from a book of retelling and ritual called a haggadah. The basic structure of the haggadah has been the same for many hundreds of years, but there are lots of different translations and interpretations available. One tradition of the retelling is that Moses takes a back seat. The emphasis of the story is on the people as a whole. Participants in the Passover meal are encouraged to see themselves as if they, personally, had been brought out from Egypt. And, in a sense, we are all still bringing forth from Mitzrayim.
Let’s say we do focus on Moses. He’s not the Lone Ranger. From the people who protected him as a baby, to the Midianites who sheltered him as a young man, to his brother Aaron who partnered with him to start a movement, Moses needed other people. After the Hebrews left Egypt and were safely on the other side of the Red Sea, it was Miriam who led the group in expressing gratitude (Exodus 15:20-21). Later in the story, we learn that Moses asked advice from his father-in-law when he was called on to resolve conflicts between people in the wilderness (Exodus 18:13-26). There is a lot of interdependence in the Exodus story.
Teaming up is a strategy for communities as well as individuals who are following the call. This congregation partners with other faith communities with the Sharing Table and our contributions at the homeless shelter. We can accomplish a lot more when we join forces. I would venture to guess that we have some differences of opinion among the various faith communities about other social issues or about theology. We don’t have to agree on everything, we just have to agree on the urgency of relieving poverty in our community.
We could get involved in caring for the earth, advocating for safe working conditions, or ending housing discrimination, and we would learn the same thing: finding allies helps us get the work done, and we can work with people across our differences. People of faith advocating for immigration reform often look to the Exodus story for inspiration, remembering the Hebrew immigrants in the land of Egypt. They are inspired by the same story, yet find themselves working beside people who take an opposite stand on things like marriage equality or reproductive health. As Unitarian Universalists, we know very well that we need not think alike to love alike (to paraphrase Francis David, 16th century Transylvanian Unitarian minister).
Teaming up can also help on a smaller scale. As many of you know, I’m enrolled in a Master’s program in Pastoral Counseling. The philosophy of the program seems to be that pastoral counseling includes what might be expected for mental health or personal growth counseling, and also equips us to invite clients to bring their spiritual and religious lives into the process. Graduates of the program are prepared to take a secular national counseling exam and to work toward being Licensed Clinical Professional Counselors. Students and faculty come from a wide range of religious communities. In some of our classes, we take turns sharing opening meditations from our individual spiritual traditions. In other classes, we go directly to clinical issues.
In my class on group facilitation, part of every session was set aside for small groups to offer each other spiritual support. I did not know how that was going to work. I was pretty sure there wouldn’t be any other Unitarian Universalists in my group, and I wondered how we could possibly understand each other, let alone offer each other support. Yet it worked. We talked about where in our lives we felt congruent with our faiths, where we were struggling to hear our calling, and where we were open to change.
Although we each had our own methods of individual spiritual practice, we committed to including each other. I have a daily practice when I remember the people in my life, including this congregation and what has been said in Joys and Sorrows. During my class, I also remembered the people in my small group. I imagine that the way the other group members prayed for the rest of us would have seemed strange to me, but that was fine. I felt supported, and I felt more committed to my own practice because of the group. We teamed up, and the spirit of our shared strength mattered more than the differences.
Opportunities abound for people to join together as they make their way through tight spots. Partners and groups can give us strength as we struggle for freedom from our personal demons. Collective efforts for compassion and justice are also reflections that none of us are alone. The Exodus story teaches us to team up when we are navigating through the narrow places.
Listen to the Call
The second clue in the Exodus story is to listen to the call, the voice of wholeness, even when other noises get in the way. These can be our own distractions of self-doubt, as Moses showed when he was hesitant to return to Egypt. The call can be obscured by exhaustion, internalized oppression, scare tactics from those in power, or simple inertia.
When Moses and Aaron got back to Mitzrayim, the first thing they did was to call a meeting with the leaders of the 12 tribes. At first the Hebrews thought a movement for justice sounded like a great plan. (Exodus 4:29-31) Aaron and Moses went to the Pharaoh and asked for a few days off for the Hebrews to go and worship their God in the desert. They didn’t start with a request for complete freedom, just for a small concession. Pharaoh dismissed them, saying that the only reason that the Hebrews complained is because they were lazy. Pharaoh decreed that the Hebrews would have to gather their own straw for bricks, but that their quota would be the same. That way, they wouldn’t have time to organize or to complain. (Exodus 5:1-17)
The Hebrews blamed Moses and Aaron for stirring up trouble, and spiraled into despair from their exhaustion. Moses regretted that he had been called, and doubted his ability to lead. (Exodus 5:19-23) But he didn’t doubt his brother. They listened to the call again. Aaron and Moses went back to Pharaoh, and again demanded that their people be allowed to go. Again Pharaoh refused. (Exodus 7:10-13)
You may remember the next part of the story. Each time Pharaoh refused to let the Hebrews go, another misfortune fell on the people of Egypt. A frog infestation, cattle disease, locusts, and other disasters were some of the ten plagues. Maybe these were the result of divine intervention, maybe the plagues were the consequences of centuries of oppression and poor environmental management. In any case, it became clear that the Hebrews were not the only ones who were suffering from Pharaoh’s insistence on an outdated, unjust system. (Exodus 7:14-Exodus 11)
Finally, Pharaoh budged, and it seemed that he would let the people go. The Hebrews bundled up their belongings, with dough for unleavened bread wrapped in their packs as they hurried away. (Exodus 12:31-38) Pharaoh changed his mind. He and his army pursued the Israelites to their camp by the Red Sea. (Exodus 14:5-9)
The people said to Moses, “Were there no graves in Egypt that you had to bring us here to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us? It would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness.” (This last paragraph is adapted almost directly from NRSV Exodus 14:11-12.)
The people knew as well as Moses that there was no turning back. Forward through the Red Sea, however improbable, was the only option. Overnight, a strong wind and tide created a dry passage through the sea. The Israelites made it safely to the other side before the tide turned and the passage disappeared. (Exodus 14:19-29)
In the Exodus story, we can recognize several ways that the voice of wholeness can be challenged. In addition to self-doubt, there is internalized oppression, the belief by those who are disadvantaged that there is nothing they can do, or even that they deserve to suffer. There is political backlash, such as when the brick-making conditions got worse before they got better. Pharaoh’s decree had the double-acting effect of exhausting the Hebrews and setting them against each other instead of against injustice. Fear can be paralyzing, as the Israelites found out by the shores of the Red Sea.
I think we can learn a lot from the ambivalence of the Hebrews on their way to freedom. In our personal struggles to be free of an abusive situation or a destructive habit or another tight spot, who among us hasn’t been tempted to return to the bad old days? When has our work for the common good gone two steps forward without one step back? Women’s suffrage, civil rights, environmental awareness, and other movements all dealt with or deal with doubt from within the active community and the retaliation of the powerful outside that community. What the Exodus story tells us is that even the most authentic, the most pure, the most justifiable call for change faces these challenges. Ambivalence is part of the path that leads through Mitzrayim.
There are always forces that push back. Setbacks do not mean we were wrong to hear the call to wholeness, and they do not mean that we will ultimately fail in our struggle for liberation. We can listen to the call in spite of distractions, we can come back to it after we panic and stall, we can succeed in becoming free from the narrow places.
Remember
Teaming up and listening to the call to wholeness are two strategies in finding liberation. The third clue in the Exodus story is remembering. On the night when they were preparing to leave Mitzrayim, the Hebrews received instructions about how to remember their passage to freedom in future years. More than half of Exodus Chapter 12 and most of Chapter 13 are devoted to a detailed plan for the week-long Passover holiday, such as eating unleavened bread and bitter herbs, refraining from work on certain days, and (most importantly) teaching children about the meaning of the holiday. Passover is about remembering with story, food, and family that freedom is a holy calling.
The Exodus story demonstrates why I think sacred texts are worth studying for us as Unitarian Universalists. Certain stories act as memory banks, batteries to power our resilience when we need to reach beyond ourselves. Remembering stories of liberation inspires us to meet our challenges when we feel powerless and reminds us to dismantle systems of oppression where we do have power.
There’s a reading by Archbishop Desmond Tutu that is reprinted in the back of the hymnal. It’s number 593, in case you want to return to it later. He writes, “Liberation is costly. Even after the Lord had delivered the Israelites from Egypt, they had to travel through the desert. They had to bear the responsibilities and difficulties of freedom.”
This is an example of the way ancient stories can be used to inspire us in the challenges we continue to face. In addition to sacred texts, there are other stories that can act as memory banks for resilience. Family stories, congregational stories, and personal stories can do this, too. Ask yourself, when have I overcome challenges before? What worked in that case? How do I draw from my strengths now? You can ask the same question thinking about your ancestors or about this church.
I have to admit, change is hard in my family of origin. We are creatures of habit. We hold on to some of the same roles and patterns for generations. We forget that the people we love have grown over the years. Yet we have stories about the times when we were stuck, and we were able to try something new. (During the Time for All Ages earlier in the service, I talked about times during my childhood when we tried something new, such as when we started biking and playing outside as a family.) We can point to the times when we followed the path of change, and came through enriched with abundant life. When change comes around uninvited, as it does to everyone sooner or later, we have some stories to work with as we figure out what to do next.
I think often of the stories of this congregation, of the strengths we have shown in the past and the present. I think about the stories from the sixties, when the UU’s and the Quakers in Harford County cooperated on a racially integrated Vacation Bible School. I think about stories from the nineties, when the bonds between people who cared for each other and their community were too strong to leave fallow, and a new congregation was born. I think about the last year, when I have heard so many unique stories during Sunday services, and I know deep in my heart that each story is welcome here. Remembering is a powerful practice.
Conclusion
Passover is a celebration with many layers of meaning. I get a different insight from this holiday every year. In this moment, standing on the cusp of another opportunity to enter the Exodus story, I think there are at least three things we can learn.
Team up. Whether we are in search of personal liberation or social justice or both, let us be united. The differences we bring will help us to grow toward freedom.
Listen to the call. Power does not return to balance without an argument. We may find ourselves arguing against our own liberation. We may face tactics of confusion-mongering and backlash. Most of us stumble somewhere along the path through the narrow places. Underneath all of that, wholeness still calls with an authentic voice.
Remember. Let us recall all of the stories in our minds and hearts. Each one may supply a piece of the map that helps us navigate out of Mitzrayim. Cultural stories, congregational stories, family stories, and personal stories all lend their strength.
This year we celebrate Passover, knowing we have further to grow and more to do. Next year, may we celebrate in a world that knows peace and freedom.
So be it. Blessed be. Amen.
