Out of Egypt

July 20, 2021 by Amy Welborn

Of late, we have been reading and hearing narratives from the book of Exodus at daily Mass.

One of my consistent themes here – and in life – is that our daily Catholic spirituality begins with some concrete tie to the daily prayer of the Church. Not necessarily to go whole hog and prayer the enter Breviary and go to Mass every day, but to make sure that the beginnings of daily prayer are rooted in some aspect of the Church’s prayer: some iteration of morning prayer perhaps or even just the Mass readings.

We do not know how to pray as we ought says Paul. But, he follows, that the Spirit fills in the gaps. And since the Spirit works through the Church – as Jesus promised – it makes sense to let the Spirit fill in the gaps through the prayer of that same Church.

(That’s the theme of this book)

It runs in reverse as well. The way in which tradition has used Scripture shapes our understanding of God’s Word. It’s all of a complicated, layered, rich piece.

So, for example, if you’re going to daily Mass or even using the daily Mass readings as a source of prayer and reflection every day, over the past week, you’ve been reading and praying with the story of God’s people bound in slavery in Egypt, and God’s action in pulling Moses forward as their leader, and then taking them out of slavery. Which might just orient you in a particular way. Say you’re having problems, feeling confined and bound in some way – by sin, habits, a situation – you might bring that situation to prayer, centering yourself and your own feelings. When we do this, we often end up in a self-pitying circle of sulking and even helplessness. But when we center our reflection with the greater Tradition as given to us in this moment, in the Church’s life of prayer, it all takes on a slightly different shape. We might see possibility where we before saw nothing. We might see ourselves in community, where we once saw ourselves alone. Most importantly, we might finally see hints of God’s presence where before saw just silence.

And then, perhaps our memory will take us back to other times we’ve heard this narrative. Today’s narrative, specifically, of God’s people being led through the Red Sea. When have I heard that before? Around Easter isn’t it? The Easter Vigil? It’s in the blessing of holy water at Easter, right? Which then links what I’m reading today and any bondage I’m feeling in my own life with resurrection, life, hope and baptism – the graces of which I’ve been given.

And now I have a different context for considering who I am, what I’m here for, and how to understand my problems and limitations. In that context, I’m not alone, and in that context, I’m led away from solipsistic isolation and to connection, even across space and time.

That’s the assumption and framing behind my Loyola Kids Book of Bible Stories – the stories arranged in the way one would most commonly hear them during the course of the Catholic liturgical year – on Sundays. So the past week’s readings are most commonly associated with Lent and even more so Easter – the crossing of the Red Sea (today’s first reading) being one of the readings for the Easter Vigil. I give you the first and last pages so you can see the approach – ending each entry with a turn back to the place of this narrative in the Church’s and the Christian’s life, as well as a question and a prayer.