Exodus 1

An oft-repeated aphorism goes something like, "The sequel is never as good as the original." While this is true in many cases, exceptions do exist. The Godfather Part 2, Toy Story 2, Aliens, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, Terminator 2, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, and The Road Warrior all live up to or surpass the originals. Of course, it's silly to judge the books of the Bible in a similar manner--well, OK, maybe Leviticus isn't as relevant anymore--but Exodus is definitely no Cinderella II.

The Israelites prove themselves remarkably fecund during their stay in Egypt, such that Pharaoh gets it in his bald little head to "deal shrewdly with them," fretting that they will cause a revolt or decide to leave (verse 10). The use of the word "shrewd" here is intriguing; nowadays, it means "astute," but it can also mean "malicious," creating a nifty little bit of wordplay. It's almost as if the translators actually knew what they were doing.

The Israelites become slaves under the Egyptians; obviously, slavery sucks, but the Israelites find enough chutzpah to bite their thumbs at their oppressors (to borrow a Shakespearean phrase), becoming even more prolific. This causes Pharaoh to tell the Hebrew midwives to kill off the boys born to all Hebrew women--a chilling reversal of the effects of China's one child policy. To their credit, the midwives disobey, perhaps sensing that, even though they're defying the will of their superior, they are beholden to an even higher power. The midwives claim, rather comically, that Hebrew women "are vigorous and give birth before the midwives arrive" (verse 19). I'm reminded of this scene from the Tim Burton film Big Fish.

Pharaoh swallows this fishy tale (to the relief of the midwives), but matters take a turn for the worse: Pharaoh orders his subjects to slaughter every male Israelite baby--all because he fears these non-Egyptians.

At this point in human history, we should be past xenophobia, an outright abhorrent trait. Sadly, a smattering of truly racist dim-bulbs exist, but I'd be lying if I say that I never make internal judgments about different races from time to time. Actually, for most of my childhood, I didn't really think of myself as Asian, probably because I only knew English and I'm 4th or 5th generation on both sides. But I really didn't think of myself as white either--in fact, I never really thought about my race at all. Of course, I categorized other people outside my family as being such-and-such a race, though I was never prejudiced against any particular race. All races had cool people and obnoxious people, good looking folks and not so good looking folks (e.g., yours truly). But I admit that when someone makes an unwise decision on the freeway, I think to myself, "Please don't be a stereotype"--and sure enough, if I peek at them and see that they're a fellow Asian, the monster that is my confirmation bias growls in acrid satisfaction.

Ineffectual metaphors aside, prejudice can go beyond race as well. Like I wrote about in my Genesis 7 post, it's easy for me to treat well those whom I get along with. But I pray that I can treat those who act or think differently from me in a loving and Christlike manner.