Musical Prelude and Service.

Exodus 1:8 – 2:10 & Matthew 16:13-20
What do we do when our choice to follow Jesus seems to conflict with our love or gratitude for our
country? That question can seem extreme, and I am not here to preach disobedience or revolution.
But I think it is important to consider the significance of the question.
In the story from Exodus, we hear how the Pharaoh, or emperor of Egypt starts viewing the Hebrews
in Egypt with suspicion and fear. He makes the decision to enslave these people and treat them
harshly. They are not truly Egyptian and don’t deserve the same treatment as the true Egyptians.
This harsh treatment ends up not being enough, and he moves on to the killing of the male infants.
He effectively orders a genocide.
The midwives chose a form of resistance, allowing these infants to live. They lie; they play on ethnic
and classist stereotypes to convince Pharaoh that the Hebrew mothers are delivering the children
before they arrive to help with the births.
And then when Pharaoh makes another genocidal decree, his own daughter in her compassion resists
these orders and helps the process toward eventual liberation. God works through these womens,
compassion, courage and intelligence to save the persecuted and oppressed.
It is important to remember that in Egyptian theology, the Pharaoh or king had a complex
relationship with the Gods the people worshipped. While they may not have been seen initially as
divine, they were at the very least a bridge between the human world and the divine. They
represented gods such as Ra, Horus or Osirus. Over time this vision evolved with later Pharaohs
seeing themselves as living manifestation of Horus or Amun. It is safe to say that in general Pharaoh
was seen as speaking with the authority of the gods.
So for a midwife, be they Hebrew or not, to disobey the direct order of Pharaoh was a remarkable
step. It was in a great many ways unthinkable. These women who found a way to resist these violent
and horrific orders, were forced to choose between Pharaoh and the gods of Egypt, and the God of
Israel who spoke to their love of life and their compassion.
This is a conflict that has played out pretty much throughout human history. How do we respect
those chosen to rule our countries while also remaining true to our conscience, our hearts and on a
great many occasions, our faith?
This story from Exodus makes a very clear argument that there are times when our rulers; our
governments, do not speak for the God we worship. That may seem very obvious in our
contemporary world. But at the time of the writing of Exodus the view of kingship and divinity was
far more intertwined. And it remained so woven together until very recently. There are still a great
many who, when it suits them will argue that our governments are in place by divine ordinance and
should be honoured as such.
A number of the early persecutions of Christians by the Roman Empire were based on the suspicion
those Christians weren’t loyal enough to Caesar and the empire. Martyrs were typically those who
made a public declaration of their loyalty to Christ. As Diana Butler Bass points our in her book,
A People’s History of Christianity, the Roman use of the word Christian was intended as an insult;
little Christ. Followers of Jesus embraced it as describing them as emulating Jesus the Christ.
Sadly, over the centuries much of Christianity has embraced the authority of empire. Constantine not
only made Christianity legal he ended up making it the official religion of the empire. The emperor
and the countless kings who followed became seen as God’s ordained ruler. We came to see on far
too many occasions, the king as God’s representative on earth.
How do we discern the difference between recognizing and living within the rules and laws
established by earthly governments and the guidance and authority of God and our faith?
It can be a delicate balancing act at times. Our history is full of stories of people and churches and
movements struggling with that very question.
In Matthew, Jesus asks his disciples, “who do you say that I am?” Peter responds that Jesus is the
Messiah. The saviour promised by God.
This itinerant rabbi; this preacher and healer who is preaching a message of love and peaceful
resistance to the violent rule of the empire is the saviour they have been waiting for. Not a king.
Not a mighty general. This man from a town in Galilee telling his followers to love God and their
neighbour.
It is critical to note that as Simon-Peter answers the question of who Jesus is to him, it establishes
his identity as well. He is now Peter; the rock upon which Jesus’s church is built. Peter’s identity is
now fixed on his relationship to Jesus. Not his place in the Roman empire or the kingdom of Judah or
the province of Galilee. His place in the world. The place he was born and where his family and his
home may be, remain important. But the grounding of all of those; his rock or foundation is as a
follower of Jesus, the Messiah. Who do you say that I am?
As I look at the world around me right now, I am increasingly troubled by a variety of nationalist
movements. In particular, those that tie themselves to religion such as Christian Nationalism. I’ve
spoken a bit about this in the past. Forcing a vision of a country to be based on a particular form of
Christianity is incredibly troubling. But I am also grateful to have been born where I was born. I am
grateful to remain part of the country we call Canada, and I will confess to guarding that part of my
identity carefully. But I think it is also incredibly important that I don’t begin to deify my country, or
its governing body or some sense of what it means to be Canada. We cannot afford to create idols
out of flags or national symbols. We should be wary of making political or military or popular figures
our modern messiahs.
We seek to emulate Christ. Living lives of love, of peace and generosity. We find our peace, our love,
our mercy in the person of Jesus, the Christ. We find our way to liberation, to freedom through God,
who we recognize in Jesus. Not through a Prime Minister, a President, a King or a General. Through
the example and the life of a rabbi who journeyed through Israel 2,000 years ago and taught us the
power of love and mercy and peace.
So, may we never forget to keep asking the question; “Who do we say Jesus is?”
And who do we choose to follow? Thanks be to God. Amen.
Rev. Warner Bloomfield

Music provided with permission through licensing with CCLI License number
2701258 and One License # A-731789