Moses Is Modeled on Horus and Sargon, but His Story Is About King Hezekiah

Our conversations about Moses and the exodus tend to focus either on the history of their interpretation, for example in relation to the Passover Haggadah, or on their historicity, examining the extent to which the text corresponds to a set of events located in space and time. Yet we often neglect the story’s literary creativity.

The master scribes responsible for texts in the Hebrew Bible were skilled, deeply knowledgeable about their world, and enormously creative.^[1] The literature they produced interacted with their history in ways that promoted its survival. The story of Moses is a case in point. To see how, we must look at an old relationship in a new way.

The Exodus Narrative and the Sargon Legend

Moses’ life begins in crisis, as his mother places him in a pitch-covered basket and abandons him to an uncertain fate in the river. This element of the Moses story has long evoked comparison with an ancient autobiographical text ostensibly about Sargon of Akkad, founder of the first Mesopotamian empire in the third millennium B.C.E., who is abandoned in the Euphrates as an infant:

Sargon, the mighty king, king of Akkade, am I.
My mother was an en-priestess (?), my father I never knew.
My father’s brother inhabits the highlands.
My city is Azupirānu, which lies on the bank of the Euphrates.

She conceived me, my en-priestess mother, in concealment she gave me birth,
She set me in a wicker basket, with bitumen she made my opening water-tight,
She cast me down into the river from which I could not ascend.

Aqqi the water-drawer rescues him from the water and adopts him. He becomes an apprentice in Aqqi’s garden, where he encounters the goddess Ishtar, who sponsors his rise to the throne:

The river bore me, to Aqqi the water-drawer it brought me.
Aqqi the water-drawer, when lowering his bucket, did lift me up,
Aqqi the water-drawer did raise me as his adopted son,
Aqqi the water-drawer did set me to his gardening.

While I was (still) a gardener, Ištar did grow fond of me,
And so for […] years I did reign as king,
The black-headed people, I did rule and govern.

This text continues by presenting Sargon as a prototype for kingship. It refers to various conquests, including of a place called Dilmun, which is roughly in the area we now know as Bahrain on the Persian Gulf.

With copper pickaxes, I did cut my way through the (most) difficult mountains.
I did ascend all the high mountains,
I did traverse all the foothills,
The sealands, I did sail around three times.
Dilmun did submit to me (?)…
The Great Wall of Heaven and Earth (?), I did ascend…^[2]

Conquest of Dilmun was one of the signature achievements not of Sargon of Akkad, but of Sargon II, the eighth-century B.C.E. Neo-Assyrian king who “dreamed of conquering the world in the footsteps of his distant predecessor.”^[3] What is more, the text was likely written in the Neo-Assyrian period, as three of the four extant copies come from Ashurbanipal’s library.^[4]

The Sargon legend is political allegory because it talks about the second Sargon in the guise of the famous historical allos, or “other,” upon whom he wishes to model himself. Its goal is to convey that the legitimacy of a king’s rule is not grounded in his birth. The favor of the deity is sufficient, and the proof is ultimately in his deeds.

Comparisons to the Moses story were first made more than a century ago, when scholars were inclined to jump on (or passionately reject) the idea that literature in the Bible might derive from Mesopotamian prototypes.^[5] We are now (wisely) more cautious about thinking that the Moses story is a retelling of the Sargon legend for at least two reasons. First, abandoned infants play a role in a wide variety of texts about illustrious figures. These texts come from disparate times and places and cannot possibly all be related. The abandoned infant is clearly a folk motif.^[6]

Second, the Moses story is also more obviously Egyptian than Mesopotamian. Moses is abandoned in the Nile, not the Euphrates, and specifically in a papyrus thicket—these typify the Nile rather than the great rivers of Mesopotamia. This detail may evoke a story about the Egyptian deity Horus, who represents kingship and is depicted as a falcon wearing the royal crown. In the story, Horus is caught up in a battle between Seth and Osiris, who represent chaos and order, in which Seth kills Osiris. Osiris’s wife, Isis, hides Horus, their son, in a papyrus thicket in order to protect him from Seth and the fate of his father.

Seth was ranging about looking for Horus when he was a child in his birthplace at Khemnis. His mother hid him in a papyrus-thicket, and the coverlet of Nephthys was over him.^[7]

Two things are important to keep in mind as we try to sort out the relationship between the Moses story, the Sargon legend, and the myth of Horus. First, we should be careful about boxing ourselves into a false choice. Literature plays with elements of culture in the real world. As such, a work of literature can meaningfully resonate with more than one at a time. It is possible for the Moses story to draw on elements of both the Sargon legend and the Horus myth. The ability to combine disparate elements of culture with skill, purpose, and ingenuity is one mark of an excellent scribe.

Second, we can acknowledge that the abandoned infant is a folk motif and still find instances where one text that uses it depends on another, as long as we can make the case for dependence. We can determine that the Moses story depends on the Sargon legend, and doing so will help us see the exodus narrative and its relationship to history in a new way.^[8]

A Royal Moses

The first step in making the case for a direct relationship between the Moses story and the Sargon legend is to see that it goes well beyond the motif of a baby in a basket. The scribe responsible for the exodus narrative knew and creatively reorganized several elements of the Sargon legend and combined them with elements of the myth of Seth and Horus as well as other allusions from Mesopotamian and Egyptian culture.

Abandoned in a Thicket

The image of an infant Moses abandoned in a papyrus thicket to save him from threat of death at the hands of Pharaoh evokes the Horus story noted above:

^{שמות ב:ג}‏ וְלֹא־יָכְלָה עוֹד הַצְּפִינוֹ וַתִּקַּח־לוֹ תֵּבַת גֹּמֶא וַתַּחְמְרָה בַחֵמָר וּבַזָּפֶת וַתָּשֶׂם בָּהּ אֶת־הַיֶּלֶד וַתָּשֶׂם בַּסּוּף עַל־שְׂפַת הַיְאֹר׃ … ‎

^{Exod 2:3} When [his mother] was no longer able to hide him, she got a basket for him and caulked it with bitumen and pitch. She put the child into it and placed it among the reeds along the bank of the Nile. …

^ב:ד‏ וַתֵּרֶד בַּת־פַּרְעֹה לִרְחֹץ עַל־הַיְאֹר וְנַעֲרֹתֶיהָ הֹלְכֹת עַל־יַד הַיְאֹר וַתֵּרֶא אֶת־הַתֵּבָה בְּתוֹךְ הַסּוּף וַתִּשְׁלַח אֶת־אֲמָתָהּ וַתִּקָּחֶהָ ‎^ב:ו‏ וַתִּפְתַּח וַתִּרְאֵהוּ אֶת־הַיֶּלֶד וְהִנֵּה־נַעַר בֹּכֶה וַתַּחְמֹל עָלָיו וַתֹּאמֶר מִיַּלְדֵי הָעִבְרִים זֶה׃…

^2:5 Pharaoh’s daughter came down to bathe along the Nile while her attendants walked along the Nile. She saw the basket among the reeds and sent her maidservant to retrieve it. ^2:6 She opened it and saw that it was a child, a boy crying. She took pity on it, and she said, “This must be one of the Hebrew children.”…

‎ ^ב:י וַיְהִי־לָהּ לְבֵן וַתִּקְרָא שְׁמוֹ מֹשֶׁה וַתֹּאמֶר כִּי מִן־הַמַּיִם מְשִׁיתִהוּ׃

^2:10 So she made him her son. She named him “Moses,” and she said, “because I drew him out of the water.”

Even if the Sargon legend is the template for the exodus narrative, this Egyptian resonance creates a damning commentary on Pharaoh, who seeks to kill Moses just as Seth seeks to kill Horus. The Egyptian king is supposed be the embodiment of Horus. But this allusion puts Moses in the place of Horus—a royal role—while Pharaoh plays the role of Seth, who represents disorder and is the opposite of everything a king ought to be.

Adopted and Apprenticed

The Moses story contains additional elements of the Sargon legend beyond the abandoned infant motif. The role of Aqqi the water-drawer in the Sargon legend is split between Pharaoh’s daughter and Moses’ Midianite father-in-law. The latter gives Moses his apprenticeship (Exod 3:1), while Pharaoh’s daughter rescues him from the river.

Pharaoh’s daughter also takes on the role of Ishtar in the Sargon legend because she is the one responsible for establishing Moses as a royal figure. She brings him into the Egyptian royal household, where he is raised, and she gives him a royal name. “Moses” means “son” in Egyptian. It is linked to the role of Pharaoh’s daughter as his adoptive mother. It is also an element of Egyptian royal names that involve the name of a deity, like Thutmose (“son of Thoth,” the god of wisdom and writing) or Rameses (“son of Ra,” the sun god).^[9] Like Sargon, this infant is destined to be a king, albeit one with roots in Egypt more so than Mesopotamia—at least at the beginning of the story.

As for the apprenticeship, several features distinguish it from the Sargon legend. First, Moses gets it not through adoption but through marriage to a Midianite. This is a peer relationship, not the subordinate alliance implied by the parent-child relationship he has with Egypt earlier in the exodus narrative (and that Sargon has with his adoptive father, Aqqi). Second, Moses apprentices not as a gardener but as a shepherd.

At this point we can notice as many differences as similarities, and this might prompt some to wonder whether the Moses story really does depend on the Sargon legend. But literary borrowing is not all or nothing. A scribe can use elements from another work but adapt and apply them creatively for his own ends. Borrowing has often been taken as a sign that the Torah is derivative, but this type of creative borrowing and repurposing is in fact a sign of the Torah’s literary richness and vitality.^[10]

Moses the Shepherd

The shepherd is another royal image:

^{Exod 3:1} וּמֹשֶׁה הָיָה רֹעֶה אֶת־צֹאן יִתְרוֹ חֹתְנוֹ כֹּהֵן מִדְיָן וַיִּנְהַג אֶת־הַצֹּאן אַחַר הַמִּדְבָּר וַיָּבֹא אֶל־הַר הָאֱלֹהִים

^{Exod 3:1} Now Moses was shepherding the flock of his Jethro, father-in-law, the priest of Midian. He drove the flock into the wilderness and came to the mountain of God.

The role of king as shepherd is significant in both Egypt, where it is symbolized—perhaps most famously on the sarcophagus of Tutankhamun—by the shepherd’s crook, and Mesopotamia, where we know it best from Hammurabi’s famous law collection.^[11] Yet again we encounter the possibility that the exodus narrative is a story about the Hebrews that involves both Egypt and Assyria.^[12]

Moses’ role as the shepherd of the Israelites is not just given to him out of nowhere; he earns it. Moses first takes on a royal role in a passive way, as he is drawn out of the water by Pharaoh’s daughter and given his name by her. But he takes a more active role as an adult, when he flees to Midian—an element of the Moses story informed by yet another widely attested motif involving a fugitive hero^[13]—and stops to rest at a well.

^{שמות ב:טז}‏ וּלְכֹהֵן מִדְיָן שֶׁבַע בָּנוֹת וַתָּבֹאנָה וַתִּדְלֶנָה וַתְּמַלֶּאנָה אֶת־הָרְהָטִים לְהַשְׁקוֹת צֹאן אֲבִיהֶן׃ ‎ ^ב:יז ‏ וַיָּבֹאוּ הָרֹעִים וַיְגָרְשׁוּם וַיָּקָם מֹשֶׁה וַיּוֹשִׁעָן וַיַּשְׁקְ אֶת־צֹאנָם׃

^{Exod 2:16} Now the priest of Midian had seven daughters. They came, drew water, and filled the troughs to water their father’s flock, ^2:17 but some shepherds came and drove them off. Moses arose, saved them, and watered their flock.

Here he is the one to draw water, acting to ensure that the Midianite flocks can drink and demonstrating his aptitude for the job of shepherd. His name now takes on its Hebrew meaning (“one who draws”) instead of its Egyptian one (royal “son”). As a result of this interaction, the priest of Midian invites Moses to his house and gives him Zipporah, his daughter, as a wife.

Importantly, Moses earns this apprenticeship not where he is rescued (as Sargon does), but outside of Egypt’s sphere of influence. Egypt has become a threat to Moses’s existence, and that of all the Hebrews, and the story develops Moses’s royal role, which he first acquired on the banks of the Nile, in a way that is no longer linked to Egypt.

Divine Backing

Finally, Moses receives his divine backing not from Ishtar, as Sargon does, but from YHWH at the mountain in the wilderness. God commissions Moses to wield the authority symbolized by his shepherd’s staff and extricate all of the Hebrews from their entanglement with Egypt.

^{שמות ג:ז}‏ וַיֹּאמֶר יְ־הוָה רָאֹה רָאִיתִי אֶת־עֳנִי עַמִּי אֲשֶׁר בְּמִצְרָיִם וְאֶת־צַעֲקָתָם שָׁמַעְתִּי מִפְּנֵי נֹגְשָׂיו כִּי יָדַעְתִּי אֶת־מַכְאֹבָיו׃ ‎… ^ג:ט‏ וְעַתָּה הִנֵּה צַעֲקַת בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵל בָּאָה אֵלָי וְגַם־רָאִיתִי אֶת־הַלַּחַץ אֲשֶׁר מִצְרַיִם לֹחֲצִים אֹתָם׃ ‎ ^ג:י‏ וְעַתָּה לְכָה וְאֶשְׁלָחֲךָ אֶל־פַּרְעֹה וְהוֹצֵא אֶת־עַמִּי בְנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵל מִמִּצְרָיִם׃

^{Exod 3:7} YHWH said, “I have indeed seen the affliction of my people who are in Egypt, and I have heard their cry because of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their suffering. … ^3:9 Now the cry of the Israelites has reached me. I have also seen the oppression that the Egyptians inflict upon them. ^3:10 Now go—I will send you to Pharaoh, and you will bring out my people, the Israelites, from Egypt.”

The Snake

After Moses expresses concern that the Israelites will not believe him, YHWH shows him a sign to perform for the others, to demonstrate his ability to carry out this task:

^{שמות ‎ ד:ב‏} וַיֹּאמֶר אֵלָיו יְ־הוָה מַזֶּה בְיָדֶךָ וַיֹּאמֶר מַטֶּה׃ ‎ ^ד:ג‏ וַיֹּאמֶר הַשְׁלִיכֵהוּ אַרְצָה וַיַּשְׁלִיכֵהוּ אַרְצָה וַיְהִי לְנָחָשׁ וַיָּנָס מֹשֶׁה מִפָּנָיו׃ ^ד:ד וַיֹּאמֶר יְהוָה אֶל מֹשֶׁה שְׁלַח יָדְךָ וֶאֱחֹז בִּזְנָבוֹ וַיִּשְׁלַח יָדוֹ וַיַּחֲזֶק בּוֹ וַיְהִי לְמַטֶּה בְּכַפּוֹ׃ ‎

^{Exod 4:2} YHWH said to him, “What is that in your hand?” And he said, “A staff.” ^4:3 He said, “Cast it on the ground.” He cast it on the ground, it became a snake, and Moses recoiled from it. ^4:4 Then YHWH said to Moses, “Stretch out your hand and grasp it by the tail.” So he stretched out his hand and grasped it, and it became a staff in his hand.

This act is meaningful because, in Egypt, the authority of the king is symbolized not only by the shepherd’s crook but also by the snake, which typically appears on royal headdresses as a uraeus.^[14] The fact that Moses’s staff can turn into a snake is a demonstration that his kingship is the equal of Pharaoh’s, and that the Hebrews can trust in his ability to lead them out of their predicament.

The Exodus Narrative as Political Allegory

Like the Sargon legend after which it is modeled, the story of Moses is also a story about a king, one who establishes his legitimacy in a situation of crisis. If the Moses story is political allegory like the Sargon legend after which it is modeled, it stands to reason that there might be a historical figure behind the Moses story, just as there is a historical figure behind the Sargon legend. If we want to find him, however, we must look in a period when Israel had a monarchy. When we do, the story starts to look familiar.

It begins as a new king comes to power in Egypt, who takes note of the Israelites’ strength and number, expresses a concern that they will defect in the event of war (see Exod 1:10), and adopts an oppressive policy of corvée labor in an effort to prevent that eventuality. As it happens, we know the exodus narrative’s historical allos, or “other,” quite well. It comes not from the Late Bronze Age but from the eighth century B.C.E.

A new, Cushite dynasty arose at that time in Egypt that deliberately modeled itself after the great imperial kings of Egypt’s Ramesside past. Judah was indeed stronger and more densely populated than it had ever been. And the enemy the Israelites might well join was the mighty Assyria.^[15]

Now we can begin to see why the Moses story was modeled on the Sargon legend. Sargon II was ultimately responsible for the fall of the kingdom of Israel to the Assyrians in 722/720 B.C.E. Judah was next in line, but it was not going to go quietly—or at all, if possible. King Hezekiah rebelled against Assyria, with the support of an alliance with Egypt. Pharaoh Taharka (biblical Tirhaka) did offer support during the rebellion (2 Kgs 19:9; Isa 37:9). Yet the Cushites were not a lot of help. The account in Kings (and its parallel in Isaiah) depicts the Assyrian official, the rav shaqeh, mocking Hezekiah’s hope that Egypt would be able to support them successfully:

^{ישעיה לו:ו [=מלכים ב יח:כא]} הִנֵּה בָטַחְתָּ עַל מִשְׁעֶנֶת הַקָּנֶה הָרָצוּץ הַזֶּה עַל מִצְרַיִם אֲשֶׁר יִסָּמֵךְ אִישׁ עָלָיו וּבָא בְכַפּוֹ וּנְקָבָהּ כֵּן פַּרְעֹה מֶלֶךְ מִצְרַיִם לְכָל הַבֹּטְחִים עָלָיו.

^{Isa 36:6 [=2 Kgs 18:21]} You are relying on Egypt, that splintered reed of a staff, which enters and punctures the palm of anyone who leans on it. That’s what Pharaoh, king of Egypt, is like to all who rely on him.

Moses, the protagonist of the exodus story, is intertwined with Egypt at the beginning, but he exposes the weakness of his unreliable ally and leaves—exactly as Pharaoh fears. The story of Moses’ personal transformation is also, then, the story of a political about-face.

Moses Strikes Three Times

Moses’ relationship with Egypt is developed in the exodus narrative in three acts of striking, all of which use the Hebrew root נ.כ.ה/י in the hiphʿil.

1. Striking the Egyptian—The first occurs when Moses finds an Egyptian striking a Hebrew into submission and exercises leadership by meeting violence with violence. He steps in and strikes the Egyptian, who dies.

^{שמות ב:יא} ...וַיַּרְא אִישׁ מִצְרִי מַכֶּה אִישׁ עִבְרִי מֵאֶחָיו. ^ב:יב וַיִּפֶן כֹּה וָכֹה וַיַּרְא כִּי אֵין אִישׁ וַיַּךְ אֶת הַמִּצְרִי וַיִּטְמְנֵהוּ בַּחוֹל.

^{Exod 2:11} … He saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, one of his kinsmen. ^2:12 He turned this way and that and, seeing no one about, he struck down the Egyptian and hid him in the sand.

The other Hebrews discover what happened, and as a result Moses loses all credibility. When he finds two Hebrews fighting and steps in to mediate, he is met with a sarcastic response:

^{שמות ב:יד} וַיֹּאמֶר מִי שָׂמְךָ לְאִישׁ שַׂר וְשֹׁפֵט עָלֵינוּ הַלְהָרְגֵנִי אַתָּה אֹמֵר כַּאֲשֶׁר הָרַגְתָּ אֶת הַמִּצְרִי...

^{Exod 2:14} He said: “Who made you king and judge over us? Do you mean to kill me as you killed the Egyptian?”…

2. Striking the Nile—The second act of striking takes place after the interlude in Midian, when Moses goes back to Egypt and extricates the Hebrews from Egypt by striking the Nile:

^{שמות ז:כ} ...וַיַּךְ אֶת הַמַּיִם אֲשֶׁר בַּיְאֹר לְעֵינֵי פַרְעֹה וּלְעֵינֵי עֲבָדָיו וַיֵּהָפְכוּ כָּל הַמַּיִם אֲשֶׁר בַּיְאֹר לְדָם:

^{Exod 7:20} …he struck the water in the Nile in the sight of Pharaoh and his courtiers, and all the water in the Nile turned into blood.^[16]

Moses’s first act of striking, surreptitious and uncertain, earned him the reputation of being no different from the Israelites’ Egyptian oppressors. Now, he raises his staff with intention and determination, in defiance of the Egyptian king. He confronts Pharaoh as an equal—shepherd’s staff to shepherd’s staff, snake to snake—and the Nile turns to blood.

This act is highly symbolic. In Egyptian culture, the image of a bloody Nile is a symbol of social and political decline. It is attested, for example, in the Admonitions of Ipuwer (ca. 1650–1550 B.C.E.), which laments the chaos that engulfs Egypt:

O, yet the river is blood and one drinks from it;
one pushes people aside, thirsting for water.^[17]

Ipuwer exposes the disparity between propaganda and reality, highlighting the problem of a king who protects his personal interests while the rest of Egypt rots instead of ensuring the prosperity of his people, here symbolized by access to potable water. Moses’s act of striking the Nile thus symbolizes the unraveling of Egypt—using the Egyptians’ own imagery for this—and implies a catastrophic failure to lead on Pharaoh’s part.

3. Striking the Rock—The question then becomes: What will Moses do when his people lack sustenance? This brings us to the rock-water story in Exod 17. By the time the Israelites find themselves without water in the wilderness, Moses has no Egypt left in him. Unlike Pharaoh, he does not walk away when he and his people are in crisis but consults God, who offers a solution. If no water source is readily available, make one:

^{שמות יז:ד}‏ וַיִּצְעַק מֹשֶׁה אֶל יְ־הוָה לֵאמֹר מָה אֶעֱשֶׂה לָעָם הַזֶּה עוֹד מְעַט וּסְקָלֻנִי׃ ^יז:ה‏ וַיֹּאמֶר יְ־הוָה אֶל־מֹשֶׁה עֲבֹר לִפְנֵי הָעָם וְקַח אִתְּךָ מִזִּקְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וּמַטְּךָ אֲשֶׁר הִכִּיתָ בּוֹ אֶת־הַיְאֹר קַח בְּיָדְךָ וְהָלָכְתָּ׃ ^יז:ו הִנְנִי עֹמֵד לְפָנֶיךָ שָּׁם עַל־הַצּוּר בְּחֹרֵב וְהִכִּיתָ בַצּוּר וְיָצְאוּ מִמֶּנּוּ מַיִם וְשָׁתָה הָעָם:

^{Exod 17:4} Moses cried out to YHWH, saying, “What shall I do with this people? Before long they will be stoning me!” ^{Exod 17:5} Then YHWH said to Moses, “Pass before the people; take with you some of the elders of Israel, and take along the rod with which you struck the Nile, and set out. ^17:6 I will be standing there before you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock and water will issue from it, and the people will drink.”

So Moses strikes one last time. This time his act of striking draws water—his name means “he who draws” in Hebrew—and sustains his people, ensuring their survival outside of and independent of Egypt.

Bringing Forth Water in the Wilderness and in Jerusalem

Leaving Egypt means confronting a dire existential crisis. The wilderness setting of the allegory once the Israelites are out of Egypt means that water is difficult to come by. So does the prospect of being barricaded in one’s city, separated from one’s water source, which is the situation King Hezekiah faces when he rebels against the Assyrians, who are likely to handle Jerusalem just as they did Samaria.

Hezekiah can do nothing about the siege works that Sennacherib will construct just outside of Jerusalem, but he can do something to give his people a chance of outlasting the siege—including ensuring that they retain access to water. This he does, by engineering a tunnel — carved by the striking of pickaxes — that brought water from the pool of Siloam into the city.^[18] This accomplishment was so significant as to merit mention in the summary of Hezekiah’s reign:

^{מלכים ב כ:כ} ...וַאֲשֶׁר עָשָׂה אֶת הַבְּרֵכָה וְאֶת הַתְּעָלָה וַיָּבֵא אֶת הַמַּיִם הָעִירָה...

^{2 Kgs 20:20} … and how he made the pool and the conduit and brought the water into the city…

Isaiah castigated Hezekiah’s father, Ahaz, for failing to rely on אֵת מֵי הַשִּׁלֹחַ הַהֹלְכִים לְאַט “the gently flowing waters of Siloam” (Isa 8:6)—here a figurative expression for the temple mount—when he was under siege by the armies of Israel and Aram. Hezekiah does not make the same mistake when preparing for the inevitable approach of the Assyrians but strikes the rock of Zion itself in order to ensure his people’s access to water, and thus their survival.

Using allegory, the exodus narrative makes the case that the deeds of the royal water-drawer will be effective in preventing Judah’s demise. Hezekiah is in a bind, because he rebelled against the Assyrians but found Egyptian help ineffective and has taken the people and “left Egypt.” This may be a physical departure in the story, but it reflects a radical change in foreign policy in the real world. He must now figure out a way for Judah to survive. Ensuring access to water so that the Judeans have a chance of withstanding the Assyrian siege is one part of the strategy.

Proving his loyalty to the Assyrians may have been another, and here we can see why our master scribe might have chosen to model the Moses story on the Sargon legend. It frames Hezekiah as a Sargonid king, the very model of the enemy, in what may have been a strategy of appeasement, as if to say to the Assyrians: My recent dependence on Egypt is decidedly over. My story is actually your story. You can feel secure in leaving me on the throne.