September 17, Ordinary 24A (Exodus 15:1b–11, 20–21)

As a descendant of enslaved africans who toiled in the American South for generations, singing and praying to God for deliverance from bondage, I have always had a soft spot for the Exodus story. I must admit, however, that too often I have conceptualized this saga as the story of Moses, lifting up one person—one man—while basically ignoring the presence of figures like Miriam.

In this passage it is impossible to ignore her. We hear directly from the mouth of the singing prophetess—whom God has already used extravagantly throughout the drama of Exodus, first to watch over her vulnerable newborn brother and then to wisely assure their family’s financial security with Pharaoh’s funds. Now she leads the people in triumphant tones and defiant dancing.

Sadly, in overlooking Miriam I have much company throughout the history of biblical interpretation. God, however, sees her straight on. Blessedly, the averted eyes of the powerful never erase the sacred worth of the unseen. Moreover, in God’s wild wisdom, Miriam happens to be a master of subverting the patriarchal and misogynistic gaze (and non-gaze) that inadvertently leaves her the space to flourish and to help free herself and others while the watching eyes are wide shut. Like so many other enslaved women, Miriam is able to sing and pray the kingdom of heaven down to earth, while the powers that be ignore it as just the noise of a girl or a woman.