Exodus: A Journey for Freedom
Leaving for the Promised Land
Sunday, February 22, 2026
Father Richard Rohr describes how the Exodus story models a growing trust in God through times of unknowing:
The journey of Exodus, the journey that ancient Israel walked, is an image of the journey made by every person who sets out to seek the Divine Presence. In the Bible, Israel is humanity personified, and so what happens to Israel is what happens to everyone who sets out on a journey of faith. Christianity must recognize itself as an inclusive religion from the very beginning and honor its roots in Judaism.
In the book of Exodus, Egypt is the place of slavery, and the Promised Land is the place of freedom. The journey from Egypt to the Promised Land—through the Red Sea to Sinai and across the desert—is a saga which symbolizes our own struggle towards ever greater inner freedom, empowered by grace. The story of Israel symbolically describes the experience of our own liberation by God—and toward a universal love.
Until we look at Exodus as a symbolic story of spiritual truth, much of it seems distant and unreal. The events are either downright incredible, or we have to believe that things were different then: God worked wonders for the Israelites but doesn’t work that way anymore.
The fact is, however, that God has not changed; it’s people who have changed. The Israelites saw Yahweh acting in their lives. Their insight was really a product of hindsight: They reflected on their experience and interpreted it in a new way. We have that same opportunity. When hindsight becomes foresight—when it becomes a hope and expectation that God still cares and still acts on our behalf—we call that the vision of faith.
The stories of Exodus make inner sense to us only as we ourselves walk a journey of faith. If we listen to the Spirit, we can rather easily relate these stories to our own life.
We have to turn to God and allow ourselves to be led on this faith journey. We have to be willing to experience the Exodus in our own lives and enter into our own desert wanderings. We have to let God liberate us from captivity to freedom, from Egypt to Canaan, not fully knowing how to cross the desert between the two.
The prophet Moses takes the risk of faith. All that God gives him is a promise, and yet he acts on that promise. People of faith expect the promises of their deepest soul to be fulfilled; for them, life becomes a time between promise and fulfillment. It’s never a straight line, but always three steps forward and two backward—and the backward creates much of the knowledge and impetus for the forward.
Can we trust, like the Israelites, that the way to the Promised Land is through the desert? When we least expect it, there is an oasis. As the Scriptures promise, God will make the desert bloom (Isaiah 35:1).
Learning to Choose Freedom
Monday, February 23, 2026
Father Richard describes how Moses gradually learned to trust in God’s love:
According to the book of Exodus, “The Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, as a person speaks to a friend” (33:11). And yet the Exodus text also demonstrates how coming to the point of full interface is a gradual process of veiling and unveiling. God takes the initiative in this respectful relationship with Moses, inviting him into a greater intimacy and ongoing conversation, which allows mutual self-disclosure, the pattern for all love affairs.
Moses describes this initial experience as “a blazing bush that does not burn up” (Exodus 3:2). He is caught between running forward to meet the blaze and coming no nearer, taking off his shoes (Exodus 3:4–5)—the classic response to mysterium tremendum. It is common for mystics, from Moses to Bonaventure, from Hildegard of Bingen to the Quaker Thomas Kelly, to describe the experience of God as fire, a furnace, or pure light. But during this early experience, “Moses covered his face, afraid to look back at God” (Exodus 3:6). He has to be slowly taught how to look at God. At first Moses continues to live like most of us, in his shame, insecurity, and doubt.
God gradually convinces Moses of God’s respect, which Moses calls “favor,” but not without some serious objections from Moses’s side: 1) “Who am I?” 2) “Who are you?” 3) “What if they do not believe me?” 4) “I stutter.” 5) “Why not send someone else?” In each case, God stays in the dialogue, answering Moses respectfully and even intimately, offering a promise of personal Presence and an ever-sustaining glimpse into who God is—Being Itself, Existence Itself, a nameless God beyond all names, a formless God previous to all forms, a liberator God who is utterly liberated. God asserts God’s ultimate freedom from human attempts to capture God in concepts and words by saying, “I am who I am” or “I will be who I will be” (Exodus 3:14). Over the course of his story, we see that Moses slowly absorbs this same daring freedom.
But for Moses to learn foundational freedom in his true self, God has to assign Moses a specific task: create freedom for people who don’t want it very badly and freedom from an oppressor who thinks he is totally in control. It’s often in working for outer freedom, peace, and justice in the world that we discover an even deeper inner freedom. We must discover this freedom to survive in the presence of so much death. Otherwise, we can become cynical and angry and retreat from God and from other people over time.
In Moses, we see the inherent connection between action and contemplation, the dialogue between the outer journey and the inner journey. Contemplation is the link to the Source of Love that allows activists to stay engaged for the long haul without burning out. Moses shows us that this marriage of action and contemplation is essential and possible.
==========
For Individual Contemplation:
Moses brought five objections before he said yes. Which of his — “Who am I?”, “Who are you?”, “What if they don’t believe me?”, “I’m not eloquent”, “Send someone else” — sounds most like your own inner voice right now? Sit with that one.
For Group Discussion:
Rohr says it’s often through working for outer freedom that we discover a deeper inner freedom — and that contemplation is what keeps activists from burning out. Where have you experienced that connection in your own life — action deepening inner freedom, or contemplative practice sustaining you through difficult outer work?
