Exodus 2 traces the emergence of God’s deliverer from the depths of helplessness to the quiet wilderness of preparation. The chapter moves through three decisive movements. Under Pharaoh’s decree of death for Hebrew baby boys, salvation begins not with an army, but with the quiet courage of women—Moses’ mother Jochebed, his sister Miriam, and Pharaoh’s own daughter. Placed in a small reed basket (*tevah*, the same word used for Noah’s ark), Moses is pulled from the water by the household of the very oppressor seeking his destruction. God works beneath the surface of empire, turning an instrument of slaughter (the Nile) into the cradle of redemption. Moses, grown and aware of his heritage, steps forward to intervene on behalf of his people. Yet he attempts to bring justice through violence, striking down an Egyptian in secret. The result is neither liberation nor unity; his own brethren reject his authority, and Moses flees into the wilderness of Midian as a fugitive. Zeal without ...
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I will continue to pray that our Lord bless you and your family in this new setting.
BTW, this new picture of St. Kateri with pockmarked face you have chosen for your blog instead of all those sweet pictures of her with a lily in hand is superb. May she powerfully intercede for you.
Firstly, Native American women for whatever reason are grossly over sexualized in American culture, which probably contributes to the obscenely high rape rate on most reservations.
Secondly, the whole point of St. Kateri's last name has to do with the small pox. Tekakwitha (there really is not a hard "K" sound in Iroquois) in most Iroquoian dialects means "She who walks into things." She was mostly blind because of the smallpox. I realize as the story goes, after her death, the pock marks miraculously disappeared, I think most depictions that make her a supermodel really detract from her life's example.
+ pax et bonum