Just as we see in "Christian" societies, not everyone who belongs to a certain religion strives to live up to its ideals. The courts of the pharaohs, like most royal courts, were filled with intrigues, lies and betrayals. But just as surely there were Egyptians, everyday Egyptians, who took living virtuous lives seriously. I can see one of them. A young women- a devout follower of her namesake, Maat. She is the daughter of a prosperous landowner, and cattle merchant. She grows up to marry the son of a local business man who has become rich providing bricks and building material for huge public building projects. She has two small children, a 5 year old daughter and a delightful 3 year old boy. She loves her family, even her mother-in-law- and often gives to the poor. While hostessing dinner parties for her husband she has heard talk of how justified the pharaohs work tax on the Israelites is, because of all that Egypt has done for them. She hears that these policies are not only helping the economy, but are a wise pharaoh's way of ensuring national security. She is not always comfortable with the policies of pharaoh regarding the Israelites, and she knows she is not alone in this, but who is she to know best. And so, she goes on, just trying to live her life the best, most virtuous that she can.
One day she hears her father-in-law talking about a request made for the Israelites to go into the desert to worship their god. He is suspicious of their request- are they planning to go into the desert, join with one of Egypt's Canaanite enemies and return to conquer them? Why can't they worship here? They have lived here for generations. More than that- can you imagine how much money we would lose if they stop their allotted work tax for even a few days? We can't afford it! And their representative, Moses, has promised that Egypt will suffer if they don't let them go. Anyway you look at it; these people have not become Egyptians and are more and more a threat. It is a good thing Pharaoh is not about to let them walk all over us!
Over the course of the next few weeks life turns upside down. Her orderly house is infested with frogs, lice, and flies. There is a shortage of fresh water and she worries about her children getting sick. She is so busy trying to hold life together that she has no time to volunteer. Then she hears that her father had been ruined- his cattle all died from some mysterious malady. He is not alone; even Pharaoh's cattle are dead. But the Israelites' herds are fine. She has been praying with extra fervor to Maat, to Horus and Isis, too, but things are getting worse and worse. She hears talk of the Hebrew meaning of the title "Israelite". It means "one who prevails through God." Could the Israelite god be stronger than the Egyptian deities? No! There is no god is stronger than Pharaoh, who has the support of all the Egyptian deities. Not only has her physical world fallen apart, but for the first time she wonders about her spiritual beliefs.
Then one night, there is knocking. She hears yelling, and so leaves the side of her sleeping son to find out what is going on. She sees her father-in-law yelling at an Israelite man. She recognizes him as a man who has had to, on occasion, visit one of the food banks she has worked at as a volunteer. She hears the man say he knows they are good people and he is just trying to help and save them from grief. Her father-in-law angrily tells him to take his heathen practices and get out! After he closes the door, she asks her father-in-law what has happened. He tells her there is nothing to worry about- the gods of Egypt are greater that the god of the Hebrews. The next morning she wakes up to a mother's and wife's worst nightmare- the death of her husband and her son. In her grief, she is hardly aware of the political and historical events we call The Exodus.
Although this young women is a fictional character, she became very real for me in that she represents countless lives lived with honorable intent that have been torn apart by circumstances beyond their control. But, in her case, God freely takes the credit for the circumstances that shattered her life. But then again He freely acknowledges that he is all powerful, so in a sense nothing happens, but what he, at the very least, allows it. How does one make sense of a God who "so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son" and who is "no respecter of persons," and a God who allows such grief and injustice?(John 3:16, Acts 10:34) With questions like this a seemingly instinctive part of my thought processes, I certainly have struggled with feelings of outrage and being overwhelmed, on behalf of others, it's true, but especially when I felt circumstances were less than just in my own life.
I did find some peace in admitting that part of the issue was how much of a gap there is between my understanding and knowledge and the Lords. One experience, which relied on so many others, awaked in me a bone deep certainty that real problem is not God, a lack in his reality, his justice, his love, or any other attribute, but instead a lack in how much I really know. It happened several years after I realized that I "lacked wisdom," and, through sincere study of the scriptures and pray, took the Lord up on his offer to teach me "line upon line." I was sitting in my office attempting my nightly scripture study. I was thinking about that family of robins. ("Of Babies and Birds" or "Personal Parables") I had recently discovered that the baby did survive- and that the parents felt anything but gratitude towards me. Their obvious assumptions of my thoughts and desires towards them were so far from what I really felt. Their reaction weighed heavy on my mind as I struggled with feelings precariously close to rage and despair. In my thoughts some anger was directed towards my husband, for the long hours he was putting in at his job, when spring sports, school and church activities involving three children and only one parent meant- well, I didn't get it all done and still didn't have time to breath. But I had to honestly recognize that most of what felt overwhelming could not be blamed on any human individual.
A few years prior a family tragedy had occurred, the memory of which still woke me in the night. A few months prior my father had passed away and I discovered that grief, no matter how well prepared you think you are, is a difficult experience. My grief for myself was augmented by a few situations of patent injustice I had become involved with through church service and raw physical pain from chronic health concerns. I was completely overwhelmed; feelings of hurt, anger, and helplessness seemed to course in waves through me. "Please, please, please," Kept running through my mind. I was flipping through the scriptures, but nothing seemed to register, until I hit Isaiah 63: 5.
And I looked, and there was none to help; and I wondered that there was none to uphold.I looked at it carefully. Yes, it is a messianic scripture, in which the Savior speaks in first person of his mission and mortal experience. It suddenly occurred to me that if striving to be loving and caring meant you could be let down and hurt- no one hurt more deeply than the Savior. What I gained insight into in that moment was recently expounded perfectly by one of the Savior anointed apostles:
Now I speak very carefully, even reverently, of what may have been the most difficult moment in all of this solitary journey to Atonement. I speak of those final moments for which Jesus must have been prepared intellectually and physically but which He may not have fully anticipated emotionally and spiritually—that concluding descent into the paralyzing despair of divine withdrawal when He cries in ultimate loneliness, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46)
The loss of mortal support He had anticipated, but apparently He had not comprehended this. …With all the conviction of my soul I testify that He did please His Father perfectly and that a perfect Father did not forsake His Son in that hour. Indeed, it is my personal belief that in all of Christ’s mortal ministry the Father may never have been closer to His Son than in these agonizing final moments of suffering. Nevertheless, that the supreme sacrifice of His Son might be as complete as it was voluntary and solitary, the Father briefly withdrew from Jesus the comfort of His Spirit, the support of His personal presence. It was required, indeed it was central to the significance of the Atonement, that this perfect Son who had never spoken ill nor done wrong nor touched an unclean thing had to know how the rest of humankind—us, all of us—would feel when we did commit such sins. For His Atonement to be infinite and eternal, He had to feel what it was like to die not only physically but spiritually, to sense what it was like to have the divine Spirit withdraw, leaving one feeling totally, abjectly, hopelessly alone.
But Jesus held on. He pressed on. The goodness in Him allowed faith to triumph even in a state of complete anguish. The trust He lived by told Him in spite of His feelings that divine compassion is never absent, that God is always faithful, that He never flees nor fails us. When the uttermost farthing had then been paid, when Christ’s determination to be faithful was as obvious as it was utterly invincible, finally and mercifully, it was “finished.”(John 19:30) Against all odds and with none to help or uphold Him, Jesus of Nazareth, the living Son of the living God, restored physical life where death had held sway and brought joyful, spiritual redemption out of sin, hellish darkness, and despair. With faith in the God He knew was there, He could say in triumph, “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.”(Luke 23:46)
Brothers and sisters, one of the great consolations of this Easter season is that because Jesus walked such a long, lonely path utterly alone, we do not have to do so. (Elder Jeffrey R. Holland Of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles)
No wonder Paul said, "I can do all things through Christ Jesus who strenghteneth me!" The real issue (the one that it is a privilege beyond compare to be able to recognize and work on in mortality) is that I do not yet begin to understand the depth and breath of what has been done and prepared for mankind. I do not yet fathom the depth of His love- or the sorrow he feels at the suffering of his children. Remember the tears he shed with Mary and Martha, only moments before Lazarus was released from the tomb. (John 11:30-37) I am convinced he did not shed them for Lazurus, but for the pain of those who grieved. I am convinced he weeps with us and can only bear it because he knows.
Knows the end from the beginning and all that has been prepared for us. Knows the value of the opportunity for growth and eternal refinement that comes as the opposition of grief and pain are filtered through the infinite atonement. He knows that “No pang that is suffered by man or woman upon the earth will be without its compensating effect … .( “Chapter 2: Tragedy or Destiny?,” Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Spencer W. Kimball, (2006),11–21) He knows that "They that sow in tears shall reap in joy." (Psalms 126:5) And He knows that The greatest tragedy that can happen to a person is not the loss of his possessions, or his intellect, or his mortal life, but rather to lose eternal life, which is the free gift of God." (Carlos H. Amado, “Overcoming Adversity,” Ensign, Nov 1989, 29)
From all this I have come to see Maat, and all she experienced differently. No less painful and tragic, but in a way I am still at a loss of words to describe, I know that the plagues, the Passover and all that followed were equally about the Lord working through those who chose to"prevail with God" (the Israelites) to show his reality and the falseness of all other Gods. To our Heavenly Father, Maat was every bit as important as the children of Israel. He wanted to give her, and all His children the type of reassurance I received that night. As much as I understood in that moment how small and finite my understanding is, as much as the pain and problems didn't just disappear, I have never been more sure of my Heavenly's Father's reality or love. It is a gift I do not want to live without. How I hope and pray for every child of God to have a moment like that. The thing is, I know it is His hope and prayer for all his children, too. (John 17, 3 Nephi He longs to have us "encirlceld about in the arms of his love" and to "come unto (him)" and be "healed."(2 Nephi 1:15,Jeremiah 3:22, Alma 33:21-22) He wanted it for the Israelites, but he also wanted it for the Egyptians. I know He wants it for me. And I know He wants it for you. That is what the preservation of the records we study is all about. Bringing us the opportunity to first consider, then explore, then accept his infinite gift.
