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Dreamworks’ Moses: Prince of Egypt has been hailed by some as the last hoorah of great 2-D animation, or part of it. Heck, it’s so good even Nostalgia Critic loved it, and hate is practically his whole brand. Aside from the breathtaking visuals and music, though, what really made this movie so striking both to the Biblically illiterate and to those who knew the story inside and out was the painful love/hate chemistry between Moses and his Egyptian foster brother Ramses. Despite the bitter conflict between them over the plight of the Hebrews, never once do we see Moses actually hate the pharaoh or really bring himself to see him as an enemy. As Ramses’ stubborn resistance compels more and more of God’s harsh justice to rain down on Egypt, at every turn Moses would clearly give the world itself if his one-time brother would just let his people go.

               Alas, Ramses, in his arrogance and persistence, refuses to accept these terms of love. Whether for his own pride as a king, or for the supposed glory of his decimated kingdom, he holds onto the slaves and his hatred of Moses. “And never mind how high the cost may grow,” he sings, and grow it does, even to the life of his own son and heir. How different it might have been if he had only honored the bond of brotherly love they once had; had heeded the words of Moses and let the Hebrews go as friends, and then led Egypt to build up its own grandeur by its own sweat and blood rather than grow fat on the toil of prisoners. Even after all that, he gives into animosity once more, allowing anger, hatred, pride, or whatever else churns in his hardened heart to spur him into one last attack on the Hebrews; one last rebellion against their God. This time the loss is absolute, leaving his crippled country not only devastated and in a sense plundered, but also all but defenseless; the back of its army and its king shattered like an old pot.

               One has to wonder what passed through Moses’ mind throughout the plagues, and even as he stood on the farther shore watching the Egyptians drown. Historically I’m not sure if the pharaoh he had known was leading the charge and drowned with his men, or urging them on only to crumple on the shore with his soldiers killed in one awful moment. If I had to guess, though, I would put Moses’ thoughts in a single question: “Why?”

               Thousands of years later, another king prepared to present Himself in the Hebrews’ great city of Jerusalem. He looked and He wept, knowing that in only a little while they too would reject God’s loving terms of freedom and peace, and ultimately plunge themselves into disaster and exile. “Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem,” He cried over His people, “How often I have longed to gather you in a tender embrace, and you would have none of it.” Within the lifetimes of some standing there, His words would be tragically fulfilled as the Jews, having fled the rule of their Lord, were overthrown by the Romans and saw their country laid to waste.

Lest this last sound antisemitic, let me be clear: I believe God has chosen the Hebrew people for a special purpose, and that despite the coming of Christ He is not done with His plans or blessings. If nothing else, Satan's continued efforts to eradicate them are a good enough proof. Yet God didn't say "through you all the nations of the world shall be blessed" (Genesis 22:18 for nothing. God's message has always been to the Jew first (Romans 1:16), but the world was always in the picture. Even to this day, God looks out over that world; a world of men, women, children, the young, the old, the Jew, and the Gentile. He looks on a world He was willing to die for, and He cries out still, “How I have longed, but you would not.”

               People often ask why a loving God allows anyone to choose evil in the first place. They have not fully considered Moses, or Israel, or themselves. Suppose Pharaoh had let the people go in the first place, but because his free will had been suspended or overridden. Would that have been any credit to him? Not so. Indeed, it would have arguably been a harshness on God’s part greater than all the plagues that ever fell or ever will befall Egypt, or even the world. A loving God wants people to love Him back, and out of that love to obey Him for our own sakes. Yet love and obedience, by definition, cannot be any credit unless they are chosen, any more than an ant’s mindless labors can be counted as any virtue personal to the ant. The catch is that besides a loving God He’s also a just God, and He can’t let the consequences go unanswered when we choose to rebel.

               The good news of it all is that for us, the sea is still parted open. God is still waiting patiently for those who will come to Him and yield to His love and care, as the father of the Prodigal Son waited daily that he might run to his filthy, ragged, impoverished, and rebellious child. He will not drag us against our will; He is too loving for that. Yet He waits for us, calls to us, and misses us. Sometimes by His word as with the pleading of Moses, and sometimes by plagues as He called down on Egypt, He tries to wake us up to our own helplessness, our vulnerability, and worst of all our pride. In the end, as one theologian observed, there will be two kinds of people: those who gladly tell God, “Thy will be done,” and those whom God sadly tells, “Thy will be done.”

               In the words of Casting Crowns, “Oh Bethlehem… Jerusalem… America, will you go down in history, as a nation with no room for its king?”

Description

Dreamworks’ Moses: Prince of Egypt has been hailed by some as the last hoorah of great 2-D animation, or part of it. Heck, it’s so good even Nostalgia Critic loved it, and hate is practically his whole brand. Aside from the breathtaking visuals and music, though, what really made this movie so striking both to the Biblically illiterate and to those who knew the story inside and out was the painful love/hate chemistry between Moses and his Egyptian foster brother Ramses. Despite the bitter conflict between them over the plight of the Hebrews, never once do we see Moses actually hate the pharaoh or really bring himself to see him as an enemy. As Ramses’ stubborn resistance compels more and more of God’s harsh justice to rain down on Egypt, at every turn Moses would clearly give the world itself if his one-time brother would just let his people go.

               Alas, Ramses, in his arrogance and persistence, refuses to accept these terms of love. Whether for his own pride as a king, or for the supposed glory of his decimated kingdom, he holds onto the slaves and his hatred of Moses. “And never mind how high the cost may grow,” he sings, and grow it does, even to the life of his own son and heir. How different it might have been if he had only honored the bond of brotherly love they once had; had heeded the words of Moses and let the Hebrews go as friends, and then led Egypt to build up its own grandeur by its own sweat and blood rather than grow fat on the toil of prisoners. Even after all that, he gives into animosity once more, allowing anger, hatred, pride, or whatever else churns in his hardened heart to spur him into one last attack on the Hebrews; one last rebellion against their God. This time the loss is absolute, leaving his crippled country not only devastated and in a sense plundered, but also all but defenseless; the back of its army and its king shattered like an old pot.

               One has to wonder what passed through Moses’ mind throughout the plagues, and even as he stood on the farther shore watching the Egyptians drown. Historically I’m not sure if the pharaoh he had known was leading the charge and drowned with his men, or urging them on only to crumple on the shore with his soldiers killed in one awful moment. If I had to guess, though, I would put Moses’ thoughts in a single question: “Why?”

               Thousands of years later, another king prepared to present Himself in the Hebrews’ great city of Jerusalem. He looked and He wept, knowing that in only a little while they too would reject God’s loving terms of freedom and peace, and ultimately plunge themselves into disaster and exile. “Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem,” He cried over His people, “How often I have longed to gather you in a tender embrace, and you would have none of it.” Within the lifetimes of some standing there, His words would be tragically fulfilled as the Jews, having fled the rule of their Lord, were overthrown by the Romans and saw their country laid to waste.

Lest this last sound antisemitic, let me be clear: I believe God has chosen the Hebrew people for a special purpose, and that despite the coming of Christ He is not done with His plans or blessings. If nothing else, Satan's continued efforts to eradicate them are a good enough proof. Yet God didn't say "through you all the nations of the world shall be blessed" (Genesis 22:18 for nothing. God's message has always been to the Jew first (Romans 1:16), but the world was always in the picture. Even to this day, God looks out over that world; a world of men, women, children, the young, the old, the Jew, and the Gentile. He looks on a world He was willing to die for, and He cries out still, “How I have longed, but you would not.”

               People often ask why a loving God allows anyone to choose evil in the first place. They have not fully considered Moses, or Israel, or themselves. Suppose Pharaoh had let the people go in the first place, but because his free will had been suspended or overridden. Would that have been any credit to him? Not so. Indeed, it would have arguably been a harshness on God’s part greater than all the plagues that ever fell or ever will befall Egypt, or even the world. A loving God wants people to love Him back, and out of that love to obey Him for our own sakes. Yet love and obedience, by definition, cannot be any credit unless they are chosen, any more than an ant’s mindless labors can be counted as any virtue personal to the ant. The catch is that besides a loving God He’s also a just God, and He can’t let the consequences go unanswered when we choose to rebel.

               The good news of it all is that for us, the sea is still parted open. God is still waiting patiently for those who will come to Him and yield to His love and care, as the father of the Prodigal Son waited daily that he might run to his filthy, ragged, impoverished, and rebellious child. He will not drag us against our will; He is too loving for that. Yet He waits for us, calls to us, and misses us. Sometimes by His word as with the pleading of Moses, and sometimes by plagues as He called down on Egypt, He tries to wake us up to our own helplessness, our vulnerability, and worst of all our pride. In the end, as one theologian observed, there will be two kinds of people: those who gladly tell God, “Thy will be done,” and those whom God sadly tells, “Thy will be done.”

               In the words of Casting Crowns, “Oh Bethlehem… Jerusalem… America, will you go down in history, as a nation with no room for its king?”