“Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and YHWH your God brought you out from there with a strong hand and with an outstretched arm...”( Deuteronomy 5:15). Two Egyptian motifs—military dominance and divine benevolence—lie behind this image of YHWH.
As a Christian, the Exodus is my story of divine liberation and hope. As an Egyptian, it casts my homeland as the oppressor of God’s people—forcing me to wrestle with faith and identity.
Moses, an Egyptian prince who discovers he is a Hebrew, makes for a compelling movie. But is that the peshat, the straightforward meaning of the biblical story?
The Greek historian Herodotus, who visited Egypt in the 5th century B.C.E., reports that Egyptians would not kiss a Greek on the mouth or use any of their food implements—knife, fork, or pot—because Greeks ate cows, which Egyptians regarded as sacred. This background sheds light on the biblical account of Egyptians refusing to eat with Joseph’s brothers—or even with Joseph himself.
Flowing through desert sands, the river Hapi—the ancient Egyptian name for the Nile and its god—mysteriously overflowed each year, bringing fertility and life to Egypt’s people. The dependability of the Nile made Egypt a source of food during regional famines, though Deuteronomy reassures that Israel has YHWH to rely on for its rain.
...but about the Israelites distinguishing their identity from the Egyptians.
The Bible never numbers the plagues of Egypt, but the number ten has been canonized in tradition, and a canonical list of the ten plagues appears in the Passover Haggadah. The 18th century enlightenment commentator Naftali Herz Wessely breaks free from the number ten, offering a more persuasive structure of twelve miracles.
The earliest biblical traditions describe Israel as sojourners who dwelt in the land of Egypt, and focused on YHWH bringing them up to the land of Canaan. The depiction of Israel as slaves in Egypt, whom YHWH brought out with a strong hand, only developed later.
During the reign of Pharaoh Siptah, Egypt had a powerful vizier from the Levant named Baya, who dominated even the Pharaoh. Archaeological records and climatological studies show that this was right in the middle of a lengthy famine that affected the entire Mediterranean.
Egyptian sources shed light on the nature of the work described in the Torah.
After commissioning Moses at the burning bush, God commissions Moses again in Midian, and then again on his way to Egypt. In this third commission, God instructs Moses to tell Pharaoh, “Let My son go, that he may worship Me, yet you refuse to let him go. Now I will slay your firstborn son” (Exod 4:22-23). How does this narrative fit into the exodus story?
God uses a qādîm “forward” wind to bring the locusts and blow back the sea – but what direction is qādîm? Did Israel and its neighbors answer this question the same way? Can ancient maps clarify this question?
It seems unethical for God to deny Pharaoh free will and then punish him for his actions. Rashi, Nahmanides, and Maimonides all struggle with this problem, and each assumes that even Pharaoh deserves to be treated fairly.
When a Temple of Yahu Stood Near a Temple of Khnum
Reading the plagues of locust, darkness, and firstborn in their ancient Egyptian context.
Why is Moses portrayed as a “god” to Pharaoh? And why does the plagues story highlight frogs, blood, and boils in particular? These details take on new meaning in light of ancient Egyptian religion and culture.
In the Bible, the term “Hebrew” is primarily used as a derogatory racial slur. Why then do even Israelites—as well as God—employ this term?
Could the story have its basis in natural phenomena?
The details of Moses birth story do not entirely cohere. By examining the midrash, and sifting through layers of the Torah text itself, we uncover a series of problems and solutions in the story which help to elucidate the way the text and its traditions evolved over time.
