And thou shalt speak and say before Jehovah thy God, A perishing Aramaean was my father, and he went down to Egypt with a few, and sojourned there, and became there a nation, great, mighty, and populous.
An Israelite settled in the promised land brings God the first of his harvest. The verse gives him the exact words to say. His words are not about his crop. They are about his ancestor, a wandering man close to death. Why should a settled, prosperous worshipper start there?
Where the ESV says "Aramean," older translations say "Syrian." Where it says "wandering," they say "ready to perish." The name points back to Abraham's own relatives:
There are very few references to the Syrians in the early part of Scripture. Laban, "the Syrian," grandson of Nahor, Abraham's brother, is introduced in connection with Rebekah the wife of Isaac (Genesis 25:20; 28:5; 31:20, 24).
The worshipper starts at the lowest point of his story. One commentator sees worship in exactly that:
This is a very beautiful illustration of worship. "A Syrian ready to perish." Such was the origin. There is nothing to boast of, as far as nature is concerned. And as for the condition in which grace found them — what of it? Hard bondage in the land of Egypt. Toiling among the brick kilns, under the cruel whip of Pharaoh's taskmasters. But then, "We cried to the Lord." Here was their sure and blessed resource. It was all they could do, but it was enough. That cry of helplessness went straight up to the throne and to the heart of God. It brought Him down into the very middle of the brick kilns of Egypt.
The verse moves from one dying man to a great nation. The growth happened in Egypt, the place of their suffering. One writer sees that hardship serving God's promise:
Here we see grace in its first workings. A nation had a small beginning in the seventy souls that came into Egypt with Jacob. Set against that was their remarkable and unstoppable increase. Even the bondage they came into had already been promised to them. What seemed most against them was really the working out of promise for them. The hand of power works in disguise, but faith can see right through it. The story is essentially the same, whether told of the nation of Israel or of any of the Lord's redeemed. … We do not inherit grace. We came into the land of bondage with our father Adam.
This is not a plea from a man who wants blessing. The speaker holds a full basket. He has already arrived:
Here lay the root of the matter. "I am come." He does not say, "I am coming, hoping to come, or longing to come." No — but, "I am come." It must always be like this. We must know ourselves saved before we can offer the fruits of a known salvation. We may be entirely sincere in our desires for salvation, and most earnest in our efforts to obtain it. But we cannot help seeing that efforts to be saved and the fruits of a known and enjoyed salvation are completely different. The Israelite did not offer the basket of first fruits to get into the land. He offered it because he was already in it.
One writer sets this verse beside the charge to Gentile believers to remember what they once were:
Deuteronomy 26 and Ephesians 2 are two striking scriptures. They illustrate the position God's grace gives. They also call those who are blessed to keep living in the sense of it. … Israel, when in the land and enjoying their highest privilege in worship, were commanded to say before the Lord their God, "A Syrian ready to perish was my father." Gentile believers were raised with Jewish ones to the same position, set in Christ on high. They too were commanded to "Remember" what they were in the past. To forget the past because of the present position may be man's thought and way. It is not God's way for those who receive His grace.
Another writer applies that perishing father to every reader:
Lovely words! They brought to remembrance what they were and the grace the Lord showed when that Syrian ready to perish was called out. And this is only a picture of what we are by nature, "ready to perish."
- Origin. The confession starts with a father who wandered and was close to death. That family line had nothing to boast about.
- Grace. A helpless cry from the brick kilns reached God's heart, and He came down. The bondage that seemed to be against them was working out His promise.
- Increase. Seventy people went down to Egypt and became a great nation there. Only grace explains that increase.
- Possession. A man already in the land speaks these words, holding a full basket. He brings the fruit of a salvation he knows, not an effort to get saved.
- Memory. Blessing tempts people to forget where they came from. God commands the opposite: enjoy the place He gave, always aware of the grace that gave it.
And the Egyptians evil-entreated us, and afflicted us, and laid upon us hard bondage;
Deuteronomy 26 sets out what an Israelite said when he brought the first ripe fruit of the land to God. Verse 6 is the low point of that speech: cruelty, humiliation and forced labour under Egypt. Yet the man who says it stands at the altar with a full basket in his hands. Why must a happy worshipper recite his worst days?
This confession belongs to someone already settled in the land. One writer points to the tense of the opening line, quoting an older translation:
"A Syrian ready to perish was my father" (not "I am" — it was an old thing that was past and could not come back), "and he went down into Egypt, and was treated harshly, and the LORD brought us out, and has given us this land."
He confesses the harsh treatment as past. He stands in the land, with its fruit in his basket.
One writer draws out two things this verse shows: where Israel was, and what state they were in. He also separates Egypt from Syria, where the story began:
They were slaves in Egypt. That was both their condition and their position before Him: their condition was bondage, and their position was inside the territory where Satan ruled… Just as Syria, the wilderness and Canaan each picture something spiritual, so does Egypt. It is not man in his natural state as God made him. Nor is it man in his natural state fallen — that is Syria. Egypt is man in his natural state, fallen, and captive under the power of the enemy… Man had fallen, and he was under the enemy's power. God alone could deliver him now.
Another writer applies the picture to the moment the world stops being attractive:
Egypt is a clear picture of the world. The world once fascinated us as the scene of our pleasures. One of the first steps into spiritual blessing comes when that same world turns into a place of bitter bondage for us. Sin brings bitterness with it and we cannot escape it.
If the worshipper is happy, why mention the oppression? One writer answers that the memory keeps him a debtor to grace, and makes the rescue look greater:
The worshipper declared out loud that it was God who had done everything for him… He owed God this acknowledgment. Israel stood there only through His faithful sustaining grace. If he had not come as a debtor to that grace, with no claim of his own, he would have failed to recognise his true position. Did he then forget his own wretchedness? No. But he was in it no longer, and it made the greatness of his deliverance stand out.
The hard labour is not where the confession ends. The next line records a cry. One writer weighs how little it was, and how much it did:
"A Syrian ready to perish." Such was the origin. There is nothing to boast about, as far as nature goes. And as to the condition in which grace found them — what of it? Hard bondage in the land of Egypt. Toiling among the brick kilns, under the cruel whip of Pharaoh's taskmasters. But then, "We cried to the LORD." Here was their sure and blessed resource. It was all they could do; but it was enough. That cry of helplessness went straight up to the throne and to the heart of God. It brought Him down into the very middle of the brick kilns of Egypt.
Forgetting a bad past looks natural once life improves. One writer says God works the other way:
Forgetting the past because of your present position may be man's thought and man's way. It is not God's way for those who receive His grace. Nor will a position God gives lead to pride or indifference — not while we keep it in His presence, and enjoy it before and with Him who gave it.
The memory was also meant to change how he treated the poor:
They had suffered as slaves in Egypt, and God had stepped in with power and goodness to deliver them. The memory of both should have softened their hearts towards the poor and needy among their brothers. It should have humbled them in the presence of God as well. The gracious, godly Israelite would look at his poor brother's situation and see a chance to show the reality and excellence of that principle of grace on which God had acted towards himself.
- Bondage — Egypt pictures a person fallen and captive, held inside the enemy's own territory. Only God could break it.
- Cry — helplessness was all Israel had to offer, and it was enough to bring God down among the brick kilns.
- Rescue — the confession says "was", not "is". The man telling it stands in the land with a full basket.
- Memory — recalling the worst days does not spoil the joy. It measures the size of the deliverance.
- Mercy — the man who remembers his own slavery opens his hand to the poor.
and we cried to Jehovah, the God of our fathers, and Jehovah heard our voice, and looked on our affliction, and our labour, and our oppression;
These words belong to a set speech. A farmer stands in the promised land with a basket of first fruits and tells God the story of how he got there. Before he can say anything about the harvest, he has to say what he was — a slave who could do nothing but cry out.
The worshipper names three things: affliction, toil, oppression. They describe a condition, not a mistake. One writer explains what Egypt stands for, and how it differs from Syria, the other place named in the same confession:
It is not man in nature as God made him; nor is it man in nature fallen (that is Syria). Egypt is man in nature, fallen, and captive under the power of the enemy. So a redeemed Israelite, now living in the land, comes to worship the Lord with his basket of first fruits. He should admit that this was once his own state... Man in nature had fallen, and he was under the enemy's power; God alone could now deliver.
They cried. That was the whole of their contribution:
"A Syrian ready to perish." Such was the origin. There is nothing to boast of, so far as nature is concerned. And as to the condition in which grace had found them; what of it? Hard bondage in the land of Egypt. Toiling among the brick kilns, beneath the cruel lash of Pharaoh's taskmasters. But then, "we cried to the LORD." Here was their sure and blessed resource. It was all they could do; but it was enough. That cry of helplessness went straight up to the throne and to the heart of God. It brought Him down into the very middle of the brick kilns of Egypt.
God heard their voice and saw their affliction. What He then told Moses reached further than the way out of Egypt:
Exodus 3 shows this plainly. There the Lord tells Moses what He means to do, and speaks with tenderness of having seen His people's affliction, heard their cry, and known their sorrow. So His purpose of grace covered more than rescue from slavery. It also covered bringing them into the blessings of Canaan. For Israel to settle for the first and fall short of the second would dishonour that blessed purpose of divine grace. It would even be presumptuous self-will.
It looks strange to bring up slavery at a harvest festival. But he is not reliving his bondage. He is measuring how far God has carried him:
The worshipper said out loud that it was God who had done everything for him. This is how he presented himself. Israel owed God this acknowledgment. They were in the land only because His faithful grace had held them up. If he had not come as a man who owed everything to God's grace, he would have failed to recognise his true position. Is it then that he forgot his own wretchedness? No. But he was in it no longer; and it served to exalt the greatness of his deliverance.
Saying it out loud is itself the offering:
Simply confessing this is praise. We owe it to Him to say plainly and without hesitating: Christ has saved us. Is there presumption in this? No, it is His due. We have done nothing, except, indeed, incurred the penalty which Christ has borne in His own body on the tree.
A man who remembers his own oppression should find it hard to oppress others. Commentators tie this memory to how Israel treated the poor:
Remembering all they had suffered as slaves in Egypt, and how God stepped in with power and goodness to rescue them, should have softened their hearts towards the poor and needy among their brothers. It should also have humbled them in God's presence... When the gracious, godly Israelite saw his poor brother's situation, he saw a chance. He could show how real and excellent that principle of grace is — the grace on which God had acted towards him.
- Cry. In slavery, crying to God was all they could do. Commentators say it was enough. Being helpless does not shut you out — it is a real resource.
- Heard. The cry reached God's throne and brought Him down into the brick kilns; He heard, saw, and knew their sorrow.
- Out. Rescue from slavery was only half of His purpose. Settling for escape and stopping short of the land would miss what grace intended.
- In. The man who says all this is standing in the land holding fruit. He has not forgotten his misery — he is no longer in it, and remembering it makes the rescue look larger.
- Over. Remembered grace flows outward. People who once suffered oppression should show mercy to the poor among them.