This
week saw the death of the world’s most eminent cosmologist, Professor Stephen
Hawking. Hawking’s early work set out to prove, by the discipline of Physics,
that the universe had a beginning. His later work set out to prove, by the same
means, that it did not. My own study of cosmology lies within the discipline of
Theology—the Queen of Sciences—and, theologically-speaking, we can also pursue
both ends. If the universe is the outward expression of God’s creativity,
creativity being an inherent quality of an eternal God, then the universe has
source but may indeed have no beginning.
In the beginning
was a story. A creation-story. But Genesis
opens not with creation out of nothing,
but, rather, with the creation of order and harmony out of chaos. A liberation-story. An exodus of creation, if you
will. Later in the unfolding story, we get glimpses behind the beginning, to an
angelic rebellion against the Creator God, with cosmic consequences [see the
archangel Michael defeating the dragon, depicted in our East Window].
Exodus,
the second book of the Bible, begins in much the same way as the first. God’s
creation, the family of Israel, have been enslaved by chaos, personified by the
Pharaoh, acting on behalf of the gods of Egypt, spiritual beings in rebellion
against YHWH’s purposes for the universe. In the same way that YHWH had thrown-down
the rebellious gods and set free the observable universe, so will YHWH
overthrow the gods of Egypt and set free the Hebrew people.
Statement
of intent is given when Aaron throws down his staff—the symbol of
divinely-given authority—and it turns into a snake. Except it doesn’t.
According to the Hebrew text, it turns into a sea-dragon, understood across the
Ancient Near East as a symbol of chaos. The translators only put ‘snake’
because they don’t believe in dragons, which is foolish (and, in case you are
wondering, no, it isn’t the same word as the serpent in the Garden). In modern
Hebrew, the word means ‘crocodile’—but this was no Nile crocodile, either. It
was a dragon. If you ask me whether I believe in creatures that are universally
known to human culture, I will tell you, yes; and if you ask me for proof, I
will reply, more proof than universal
evidence?
Pharaoh
summons the priests of his gods to respond. Instead of turning the sea-dragon
into something harmless (which, by the way, wouldn’t be back into a powerful
staff) they summon forth several more. But Aaron’s sea-dragon swallows all of
theirs. This is incredibly important. What is being said is this: that Egypt
(symbolised by the sorcerers’ dragons) has swallowed-up Israel, but that Egypt
in turn is about to be swallowed-up. Chaos has engulfed YHWH’s people, but is
about to be engulfed by something greater. This will come to pass when the
Egyptian army is swallowed-up by the Red Sea (Sea of Reeds).
Notice
has been given; but Pharaoh does not heed the warning. What follows is a series
of hyper-natural events: nature escalating out of control. A series of
ecological disasters, that point to something greater: these are the
consequences of Pharaoh violating YHWH’s will for harmonious order, for
inter-dependent freedom; violating this by persisting in holding people captive
as slaves. Pharaoh’s actions express cosmic rebellion, and have cosmic
consequence, in which the natural world and human lives within it are all
caught-up.
We—people;
not only Christian people—still talk about ecological disasters in a similar
way today. We need to be careful how we do so; but we also need to recognise
that such events do indeed call us to repentance, to stewardship of the earth,
to concern for the wellbeing of the most vulnerable.
Aaron
takes his staff and strikes the Nile, and the water turns to blood, or
something like it. It is a clear sign that this will not end well for those who
resist YHWH’s intention to oppose chaos and set creation free. But again, the magicians
of Egypt escalate the problem they face, turning any water Aaron had missed to
blood. Death spreads and spreads, touching every living thing. But God will bring
about an exodus.
Writing
to the church in Rome, Paul also speaks of slavery and exodus. It is, after
all, the founding-story of his people—indeed, they’d since been swallowed-up by
the Babylonians, and, most recently, by the Romans. But Paul expands its
horizons: sin and death have swallowed-up everyone who has ever lived; yet,
now, they face being swallowed-up by the grace of God, expressed through Jesus
Christ. Those who hope in Christ, both Jew and Gentile, have been caught-up in
a new exodus. Specifically, the gods of the Roman world were about to be
judged, and the (remnant) people of God rescued through that judgement (though
God would judge his own people first).
These
exoduses have this-world historical consequences, as well as cosmic
implications. God judged the gods of Egypt and of Rome, bringing a people out
of captivity to proclaim his praise, and to establish a pattern of creation
that reflected the divine will. First, the people of Israel; then, the Church.
The question is, where do we find ourselves today?
Are
we in need of a new exodus in our time?
Is
the Church held captive to other gods?
Are
the nations being judged?
Can
we be faithful to our founding stories?
And
might we declare that sea-dragons will be swallowed?
