I have been thinking a lot about the Book of Exodus in the Old Testament. Exodus tells us of the departure of the children of Israel after 430 years of living in slavery in Egypt.
Scripture tells us that there were 600,000 people fleeing. A mixed crowd went with them. Lots of others attached themselves to this group of Israelites. We’re not sure who they all are. You will recall that they had to flee Egypt so fast that they did not have time to bake bread. Rather they took unleavened bread with them. All that they had to eat amounted to a couple of Saltine crackers, hardly enough food for the journey ahead through treacherous waters and desert heat.
Scripture also tells us that the children of Israel fleeing Egypt were accompanied by the hosts of the Lord. It’s not clear what this means. But often in the Bible the heavenly hosts are visualized as the angels of God. We can only imagine, then, that the angels of the Lord watched over the Israelites on this scary and difficult journey.
God dearly cares about these people. God is with them. So, it’s unwise to be against them, because who really wants to mess with God?
I find myself thinking about Exodus today in the midst of another exodus caused by climate change, war, corruption, poverty. Migrants pass through treacherous waters and desert heat, through the Darien Gap, through terror and dangers and uncertainty in hope of a Promised Land, relying on the mercy of God and those that they meet along the way.
In the United States, their plight has drawn political attention to the southern border where there are tens of thousands of modern-day Israelites. There is an impulse to defend ourselves, to build walls, to push them back into Egypt, to criminalize them, to call them illegal — as if a person could possibly be such a thing — and to hold them in inhumane conditions.
I have had the blessing of meeting hundreds of these people over the past six years at the Humanitarian Respite Center led by Sister Norma Pimentel, M.J., on the U.S.-Mexico border. As I listen to story after story, it’s clear that, just like the Israelites fleeing Egypt, these immigrants and refugees are accompanied by the angels of the Lord. They could not have made it otherwise.
While the situation itself is complicated, the Book of Exodus gives us a pretty strong hint as to who God’s host of angels are hovering above. And it’s not us. We know so well from Scripture that God’s attention and concern are more focused on those who are seeking freedom than those who already have it. Not because they are morally superior or especially deserving, but because the oppressed have a special place in the heart of God. And who are we to tell God that they shouldn’t?
If Scripture is any indicator, that’s a losing battle. In the end Israel’s trumpets crumble Jericho’s walls, Goliath falls to David’s sling, Jesus rises from the tomb guarded by the Roman soldiers. Who really wants to mess with God? It seems wiser to align ourselves with the heart of God, figure out how to work with this messy situation rather than against it. How do we best work with those who are striving for greater freedom? How do we best love those whom God loves?
I do know that when God’s fierce love, sometimes known as God’s wrath, is unleashed in this situation as in times of old, I’d rather be standing under the hosts of God near a refugee center than inside a government building in Washington, D.C.
I’d rather be one of the motley crew clinging to the Israelites than among Pharaoh’s chariots and charioteers, because I know how this story ends. The Bible tells me so.
I don’t want to mess with God. Do you?
Father Joe Corpora is associate director of the Transformational Leaders Program. He is a priest-in-residence at Dillon Hall and one of 700 priests whom Pope Francis appointed in 2016 to serve as Missionaries of Mercy. He has written three books, The Relentless Mercy of God, Being Mercy: The Path to Being Fully Alive, and Doing Mercy: A Path to Contemplation.