Saturday, October 3, 2026 · Week of Pentecost 18
Exodus 5:1–9
Afterward Moses and Aaron went to Pharaoh and said, “Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: Let my people go, so that they may celebrate a festival to me in the wilderness.”
2 But Pharaoh said, “Who is the Lord, that I should listen to him and let Israel go? I do not know the Lord, and I will not let Israel go.”
3 Then they said, “The God of the Hebrews has revealed himself to us; let us go a three days’ journey into the wilderness to sacrifice to the Lord our God, or he will fall upon us with pestilence or sword.”
4 But the king of Egypt said to them, “Moses and Aaron, why are you taking the people away from their work? Get to your labors!”
5 Pharaoh continued, “Now they are more numerous than the people of the land and yet you want them to stop laboring!”
6 That same day Pharaoh commanded the taskmasters of the people, as well as their supervisors, 7 “You shall no longer give the people straw to make bricks, as before; let them go and gather straw for themselves. 8 But you shall require of them the same quantity of bricks as they have made previously; do not diminish it, for they are lazy; that is why they cry, ‘Let us go and sacrifice to our God.’ 9 Let heavier work be laid on them; then they will pay attention to it and not to deceptive words.”
Notes
Moses and Aaron open with a little subterfuge, and I love it. "We're not trying to escape slavery, Pharaoh. We only need a three-day trip into the wilderness for a festival. Pinky swear!" They didn't come up with that line on their own. God handed it to Moses at the bush (3:18), and in the very next breath said, "I know that the king of Egypt will not let you go" (3:19).
Pharaoh answers, "Who is the Lord?" מִי יְהוָה (mi YHWH). Then, "I do not know the Lord," לֹא יָדַעְתִּי אֶת־יְהוָה (lo yada'ti et-YHWH). The verb know keeps turning up. On Thursday we met a new king "who did not know Joseph" (1:8). Yesterday God said, "I know their sufferings" (3:7). God's "I know" in 3:7 and 3:19 is the same word, yada'ti, that Pharaoh negates here. God knows the people's pain and knows Pharaoh's heart, and Pharaoh doesn't know God. He'll learn. "You shall know that I am the Lord" becomes the refrain of the plagues (7:5, 17).
Then Pharaoh makes everything worse. No more straw, same quota of bricks. He calls the people "lazy," נִרְפִּים (nirpim), slackers. Look at his complaint in verse 5, though: "you want them to stop laboring." The verb is וְהִשְׁבַּתֶּם (vehishbattem), "you would give them rest," from the same root as Shabbat, sabbath. Pharaoh can't stand the thought of these people resting.
Pursuing freedom often makes things worse before it makes them better. Critical race theory calls this retrenchment. Kimberlé Crenshaw's 1988 essay "Race, Reform, and Retrenchment" traced how the gains of the civil rights era drew a conservative counterattack. You can follow that line from the Civil Rights Movement to the Moral Majority and the Religious Right, to Reagan, all the way up to the election of Trump. (The historian Randall Balmer has documented how the Religious Right first organized to defend segregated Christian schools. Being “pro-life,” anti-abortion came later.)
None of that makes the pursuit of freedom wrong, and none of it means freedom isn't worth it. Years ago I wrote about this chapter and the J-curve of change: real change almost always dips before it climbs, and the fact that it's hard doesn't prove it was a mistake. Pharaoh tightens his grip because he can feel it slipping.
Questions for reflection
God scripts a three-day request and admits in the same breath that Pharaoh will refuse it. Why do you think God starts with an ask everyone knows will be denied?
Where have you seen a push for freedom make things worse before it got better? What kept people from turning back?
