After lots of stories about Jacob and his son Joseph, we’ve been following the life of Moses, who narrowly escaped murder as an infant and grew up to be a good man who would not tolerate injustice in his presence. He killed an Egyptian for beating a Hebrew slave, fled to the wilderness to make a new life, and saw a burning bush that was going to change his life forever. You might recall that God called out and Moses answered, “Here I am.” Then, when God told Moses that God was calling him not to be just a good man, but to become a great man, Moses spent a long time saying, “Here I am NOT!” Finally, after much whining and dodging, Moses agreed to go to Pharaoh and tell him to “Let my people go.”

It didn’t go so well. Moses goes to the Hebrew people and tells them all about it. “Great!” they said. Then he went to Pharaoh and told him all about it. “No!” he said. “And not only that,” he added, “but I’m not going to give them the straw they use to make bricks. They’ll have to make just as many bricks, but gather their own straw.”

So the Israelites got beaten for not meeting their brick quotas. When they complained to Pharaoh, he just said, “You’re a lazy bunch,” and the Egyptians kept beating them.

So Moses was not the most popular guy with the Israelites. He turned to the Lord and said, “Why did you send me? I just made it worse!” And God said, “Do what I tell you and watch this!”

Moses went to Pharaoh, and Moses made his staff turn into a snake. Pharaoh said, “I’ve got magicians that can do that,” so he brought out some David Copperfield types who did the same thing. But Moses’ snake ate all theirs. Still, Pharaoh said, “No!”

So Moses turned the water of the River Nile into blood, and the fish died, and it stank, and no one could drink out of the river. Still, Pharaoh said, “No!”

So Moses caused a plague of frogs, and they came up out of everywhere and covered the land. Frogs, frogs, everywhere a frog. Now, finally, Moses had Pharaoh’s attention. “Make it stop!” Pharaoh pleaded. “I’ll let them go!” So Moses prayed and God made it stop, and as soon as it did, Pharaoh said, “Just kidding!” and he did not let the people go.

So Moses called down a plague of gnats. It was worse than South Georgia in July. Gnats, gnats, gnats covering everything, gnats in your eyes and ears and mouth and up your nose. And Pharaoh said, “Make it stop! I’ll let your people go!” So Moses prayed and God made it stop, and as soon as it did, Pharaoh said, “Just kidding!” and he did not let the people go.

So then it was flies. Same result — “Make it stop! Make it stop! I’ll let them go! — Just kidding!” So then all the livestock died. Same result. Then it was gross, festering boils on humans and animals. Same result. Then it was thunder and hail that killed every person and animal left outside and destroyed the flax and barley crops. Same result. Then it was locusts that ate the rest of the crops and the trees and filled the houses. Same result.

Then it was three days of pitch-black darkness. Now Pharaoh just said, “No!” and he told Moses that if he ever saw him again, he’d have him killed. Moses says, “Buddy, you are making a big mistake.”

So we come to our reading this morning, the story of the first, terrifying, Passover. God instructs Israelites to slaughter a lamb and eat it. I’d like us to pay attention for a moment to the directions about how that is to be done. If a family can’t afford a lamb, they are to share one with their neighbors. And the lamb is to be divided “in proportion to the number of people who eat it,” in other words, equally. That might seem obvious, but think about it; it is not. There is no recognition of status or power. The father does not get a larger portion than his wife. The adults don’t get larger portions than the children. These are interesting instructions — between families there is to be sharing so that all participate, and within families, everyone is treated the same. These are the first instructions for a people who are to form a nation, a nation of wanderers, of refugees.

The story goes on to tell them to mark their houses so that the plague of death will pass them over, and to eat their meal hurriedly and ready to travel. They are always to remember that they escaped danger and that they are refugees, people who have to be ready to move fast.

You know the rest of the story. It happens just a God said it would. The plague of death strikes down all the first born in the land, but spares the Israelites, and Pharaoh finally lets them go. And so they begin the Exodus, a Greek word that means, “to come out of,” “to depart.”

Sometimes when we read these great stories from the Old Testament, we can easily think that they are great stories, but they are about a time so long ago, and a people we don’t really recognize. I think we sometimes think, “Well, these stories really belong to the Jews, and they are just background for us. For a long time Christians were even a bit embarrassed to read the Old Testament, so that when we did, we would often conclude the reading with the “Gloria,” “Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning is now and will be forever. Amen.” We felt like that if we were reading the Old Testament, we needed to tack on a Trinitarian formula to make it (get ready to groan) kosher.

Looking at the Old Testament as having nothing to do with us, or as the exclusive property of the Jews, is a big mistake. These are the stories of the formation of a people who produced Jesus, who produced us. These are our stories, the stories of the formation of our people. Our people were held in bondage in Egypt. Our people were abused and oppressed. God sent Moses to deliver our people.

And so we are a people who are called to remember what it means to escape danger and become a refugee. We are people of the Exodus.

We at St. John’s have remembered that and remembered it well. St John’s has resettled refugees from Viet Nam, Bosnia, and Liberia. We’ve also resettled an internal refugee family living in a shelter.

We are being called upon once again to remember that our people were refugees escaping danger. Look at the headline from Thursday’s paper. [Holding up front page of Atlanta Journal-Constitution from 9/1/05: “Exodus” in 2.5” type.] Now tens of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, of our brothers and sisters are refugees, escaping the terrible destruction of Hurricane Katrina and the horrors of its aftermath.

I do not need to rehearse with you the horrors Katrina has wrought. It is so terrible, there are so many heart-breaking stories, that I’m not sure I can take much more of it, and you probably can’t either. Suffice it to say that we are living through something unprecedented. We are living through one of those times in which the light of history has become sharply focused on us, and we will make history. This is a modern Exodus, and, one way or another, we will make history.

We will need to be historically generous with our funds. We need to send money two places: to New Orleans and the coast, which you can do by donating to Episcopal Relief and Development or to the Red Cross, and we need to give money to relief efforts here by donating to Family Life Ministries or my discretionary fund.

However you divide your donation, I call upon each of you to think of something you have that the refugees don’t — a dinner out, a tank of gas, a roof over your head for the night, you decide — and donate the value of that in addition to what you thought you ought to give. Some can give much; some can give little; everyone can give some.

I also want you to know that I have spoken with Jane Gunter at Family Life Ministries and with city officials from College Park and East Point. We have discussed the fact that this is not going to be a short-term crisis. We have to gear up for the long haul. People are going to need shelter, food, supplies — and friendship. And prayer. Jane Gunter of Family Life Ministries has been working long hours trying to help refugees from the coast. She told me that the one thing that all of them wanted was a hug. They have been shattered.

I spoke on your behalf, and with great confidence that you would agree, when I told the Mayor of College Park and the Mayor of East Point that St. John’s will do whatever we can with whatever we have to help our brother and sister refugees. Right now, it is too soon to tell what form that help will take. But I want you to know that we will be coordinating with Family Life and the city governments, who will in turn be coordinating with the Red Cross and FEMA.

I also want you to know that it is meaningful to me to be a leader of a congregation that I know will not only back me up when I say, “We’ll do whatever we can with whatever we’ve got,” but would also ask me why in the world I had not said it if I had failed to do so.

For now, be generous with your treasure. For now, pray. Later, I may call upon you to give of your time and talent. I know you will respond. We have, after all, been though our own Exodus, and Christ — our Passover — has been sacrificed for us. How can we not respond to this Exodus? How can we not remember that there is to be sharing between families, and that everyone is to get an equal share?

At the time of the first Exodus, God called Moses to be great. In the time of this Exodus, Christ calls us to be great. In the name of Christ, we will be.