Exodus Review

The story of the escape from Egypt told in Exodus has to be one of the most iconic tales in history, to the point that it’s practically a story archetype, not to mention its profound influence on world history.  It is foundational to the worldview and identity of the Abrahamic faiths, especially Judaism – indeed, one could argue that it is the story of how the Jews became a people.  Most all of us are probably familiar already with its most famous and iconic moments – Moses and the burning bush, the plagues visited upon the Pharoah and the people of Egypt, the Passover, the parting of the Red Sea, the mana in the desert, the issuing of the Ten Commandments, the incident with the golden calf, the building of the temple – but that does not mean there are not still fresh insights to be gained by reading the story straight through.

And it is a story.  Far more than Genesis, Exodus reads like a narrative, because it is, the narrative of the chosen people escaping from Egypt and being formed as a nation.  This may be part of what makes it so compelling.  What makes reading it in this way interesting, as opposed to in discreet sections as it is typically presented, are the little details that sometimes fall through the gaps.  For instance, by reading all of Genesis before reading all of Exodus, we don’t just get the story of the escape from Egypt – we get the arrival, too.  Contrary to how the story is usually depicted, the Jews were not enslaved in Egypt.  They were honored guests, who gradually faced greater and greater burdens imposed on them by the Pharoah, and restrictions on their religious exercise.  At least, that’s how it’s depicted in my translation.  Maybe because of my familiarity with the stories, I am much more aware when reading these of the impact of translation on the details.

One of the most challenging parts of the story of Exodus is a line that appears several times during the plagues of Egypt, stating “God hardened the Pharoah’s heart,” or variations thereof.  Indeed, when laying out the plan to Moses, God states that he intends to do this.  It raises some troubling questions, at least in my mind.  Would the Pharoah have let Moses and the Jews go out of Egypt sooner, thus not necessitating as many plagues and the suffering of the Egyptian people, if God had not hardened his heart?  Why would God seem to work at cross-purposes with Himself?  What does this imply about free will and sin?  This is not easily answered, aside from platitudes about the divine working in mysterious ways imponderable by humans, which does not satisfy me in the face of such a seeming contradiction.

Other details which escape mainstream retellings are merely of historical interest, rather than being so morally and philosophically complicated.  Some of these are differences which arise as a result of our own anachronistic assumptions, like the emphasis on sacrifices, burnt offerings, and so forth.  It’s funny how the simple observation that smoke’s tendency to rise made it a way of communicating with the divine, made in The Healing Hand, leads to so dramatically greater an understanding of the preoccupation with burnt and sacrificial offerings.  Then, there’s the specificity of the instructions of creating the “set dressings” of worship: the temple, the ark, the priestly wardrobe, and so forth.  Exodus contains exact measurement and materials specifications, which to a modern reader, and especially to readers approaching the text from a Christian background, will seem disconcertingly gaudy.  Also of interest is that many of the early miracles which Moses performs for the Pharoah are replicated by the court sorcerers and representatives of other deities.

The relationship between God and Moses which features so prominently in Exodus is perhaps unique in the entire religious tradition of the Abrahamic faiths.  By the end of the book, we see the two interacting, not as equals, but more like a general and a highly trusted and empowered subordinate.  Moses’ evolution from doubting and unsure of his faith and abilities, to the representative of God to His chosen people, is depicted well – it’s never made a focus, but it’s definitely notable.

Speaking of the chosen people, after the hardening of the Pharoah’s heart, this might be the next most difficult idea with which a modern Exodus reader must wrestle.  Our secular, democratic, human rights-informed, all-created-equal culture is deeply uncomfortable with the idea of people chosen by some accident of birth or other, uncontrollable factor to be superior to others, and has only become more so with increasing secularity.  We see fewer “chosen one” narratives in our contemporary storytelling (Star Wars being a notable exception), and much more emphasis on the “everyman” as the hero.  Thus, when God selects a certain set of people to be chosen, promises to drive other peoples from their lands to give to the chosen people, and visits plagues on the population of the unchosen because of the actions of their leader, it can be rather uncomfortable to contemplate.  However, it is an important idea upon which to cogitate, for it speaks to primal and inescapable truths, irrespective of religion, about the fundamental inequalities of human beings.  We are, after all, inevitably and wonderfully different.  To desire an absolute equality is a more draconian imposition than any stratification or arising inequality.  This is far too large a subject to contain in this post, but I wanted to at least point it out as something worthy of contemplation and consideration.

Perhaps because of the historical and narrative nature of Exodus, I found writing this “review” a lot less uncomfortable (and prone to minefields) than I did Genesis.  I have other books to read for the next few reviews, including the next Wheel of Time, but we will eventually return with a review for Leviticus.