Part 2

The Rambam’s midrash is useful because it addresses the issue of how the Hebrews became enslaved—since the Torah doesn’t specify the mechanism of enslavement or its timeframe. It also reflects the fact that the Hebrews felt grateful to the society that helped them and wished, at least outwardly, to be like the Egyptians. The midrash also makes it clear that the Hebrews were too valuable as workers to expel—hence Pharaoh’s strategy of not allowing them to leave. They were given more and more work and the tempo of work kept increasing. It is interesting that from this point on the Hebrews were supervised not only by Egyptians but by Hebrews. Our commentators differ on the motives of this second group. Clearly they were subordinate to the Egyptian overseers, and, from incidents later in the narrative, they certainly tried to protect the workers from the worst of it, but nonetheless they did supervise and in some cases, punish their fellow Hebrews.

Pharaoh’s decision to indirectly wipe out the Hebrews by killing all the male babies is very interesting. Why use such an indirect method? Nachmanides, no stranger to Spanish royal intrigues that directly affected him in the 13th century, famously observed that “such a matter would have been too treacherous for a king. He could not murder those who had been invited by a previous Pharaoh.” Despite cynicism brought on by subsequent genocides, we can credit Ramban’s insight, though perhaps suggest a different motive. Too many Egyptians were intermarried to Hebrews and Pharaoh knew it. He could not order the outright murder of the Hebrews, but a more covert solution was certainly possible. Babies dying under cover of darkness would not arouse great suspicion in a society with a high infant mortality rate. Besides, many, if not most of the midwifes were Egyptian and Pharaoh did not think this would present a problem. The fact that these women were possessed of great altruism, coupled with a strong possibility that they did not want to assist in the murder of a people with who many of their nation had intermarried, was happily not forseen by Pharaoh. This was one of the miracles of the Exodus story.

Even this admittedly brief analysis indicates how thoroughly the Egyptians and Hebrews had intermingled. And how could it be otherwise? The Hebrews were well treated, welcomed as relatives of Joseph, and given a fine piece of land, and exempted from all feudal duties in lieu of guarding Goshen against foreign invaders. A most comfortable exile indeed. And what did it lead to? Assimilation on a mass scale to the extent that a gemara in Massechet Sanhedrin famously observes that 75% of the Hebrews died along with Egyptians during the plague of darkness. This occurred because they were too assimilated to have placed blood on their doors and identified themselves if they survived. This incredible statement indicates full well, along with others in the Talmud, midrash and Zohar, that our Sages were fully aware of how thoroughly the Hebrews first acculturated following Joseph’s example and later assimilated into Egyptian life.

Continued...

Part 3

Egypt was thus the first example of a “comfortable exile” and a land in which our ancestors were so accepted that native Egyptians sought them out in marriage, or accepted them in their families once they married. The acculturated Jews, like Joseph who dressed as an Egyptian, fluently conversed with Egyptians, and still kept a “kosher’ table eerily echoing the pre-Hasmonean Temple Cohanim, priests, who offered korbanot, offerings, in the Temple and then went off to the gymnasium, stripped into “immodest gear” and exercised, just like all the Rabbis you see at the BJCC. Is it coincidence that Jewish history records that both of these movements were met by a conservative backlash? The acculturated Hebrews either failed to identify as such during the plague of darkness, or very possibly formed the airev rav, the “mixed multitude” that accompanied the people on their desert journey and continuously rebelled against Moses’ leadership. In the end, the Revelation at Sinai and the imposition of a theocracy and the phmysical destruction of many of the airev rav proved to be the only “solution” to the “Hebrew problem.” Similarly at Chanuka, we commemorate the victory of Galilean zealots over an acculturated population of urban dwellers who, much like us, combined Judaism with affection for their “modern” Hellenic civilization.

While traditional sources have championed this conservative backlash for obvious reasons, it is not that simple an issue today. The conservative model worked well for the Dark and Middle Ages, but it began to come apart in pre-Enlightenment Europe. It was Napoleon who suddenly catapulted this debate between religion and acculturation into modern terms. When he convened a Sanhedrin of Rabbis to offer the Jews civil rights; thus using an ancient technique to give credence to a modern idea of citizenship trumping religion, the proponents of conservatism were thrown on the defensive. That is, since the French Revolution, the vast majority of Jews have decided that for better or worse, they must balance modernity and tradition. The only arguments have been about the extent of this compromise. This accounts for not only the various streams of Judaism, but also the rise of secularist Jewish movements. The gradual spread of democracy since the French Revolution has given credence to those who say that Judaism can coexist in a liberal society.

Why should we question that long and seemingly validated assumption? Because the sociology of ethnicity compels us to. What the last two hundred years of Diaspora history have shown, and the rise of secular Israeli culture has underscored, is that religion needs to play some role in Jewish ethnic identity. Without a religious component, outside of the land of Israel, Jewish identity fades, withers, and disappears within four generations. At some point, just as in the narrative of the end of Genesis and the beginning of Exodus, an ethnic boundary is reached and the Jew suddenly find themselves beyond the walls of their community. In ancient times, this was easier to establish, the Jew who strayed beyond the pale of “acceptable religious behavior” as defined by the power holders in society was “outed.” But that does not happen today, and yet, parents mourn when children “marry out”—even if they did very little to mark the fact that they were Jewish, or offer their children a clear-cut idea of what they believed Jewish identity was. It is hard to blame them—for Jewish identity is a very difficult concept. The Reform movement tried to deal with this by redefining a Jew as one born from a Jewish mother or a Jewish father. It has also made conversion easier. Besides the firestorm of criticism this produced, intermarriage rates keep rising—as they did in Egypt after Joseph’s death.

Continued...

Part 4

Of course, little of this affects the Orthodox—a multi-tiered group whose resurgence is one of the most surprising trends of modern Jewish history. Their answer is simple, though groups such as Aish present it with great sophistication, Judaism is primarily a religion observed in a community. The Sabbath restrictions prescribe a community that is within walking distance of a synagogue—hence the construction of the “suburban Jewish ghetto.” Community also means similar lifestyles. Many ba’alei teshuva, mostly young men and women who choose to become more observant, are drawn to the powerful sense of community provided by traditional Orthodox Judaism. This sense of belonging helps them overcome their tendency to view traditional Judaism as a series of negative injunctions: don’t eat pork, don’t dress immodestly, and the like. This group also is focused on text study, much of which now, thanks to Art Scroll, is available in English and with translations that back the philosophy of those who seek to encourage the return to Judaism. Their argument, which mirrors that of the Maccabees, is that “we are the authentic embodiment of Judaism.”

What of “humanistic Jews” or “secular Jews”? Or those who argue, rather like Stephen Lewis, that being Jewish means improving the world as ordered by the eloquent words of our prophets? Are we not commanded to be “a light unto the nations”? This approach asks incisively, is Judaism without ritual still Judaism? If it is, how is it passed on and who are the members of this group? So, what are we “Intelligent Jews” to make of all this? The Torah characterizes Egypt as “the fiery furnace.” Rightly so. Egypt was the crucible in which Israelite identity was forged; as the Haggadah makes clear, it was the Egyptian experience that changed 70 people into a nation. In Egypt, under duress, those who did not wish to identify as Jews were able to disappear or were compelled to disappear, or died. Some, not sure of where they belonged, followed into the desert, where most later died when they could not accept or would not accept the theocracy led by Moses mandated at Sinai. We wouldn’t accept this theocracy either, but we would certainly agree that adversity compels people to test their beliefs. But, even more interesting and importantly, the entire purpose of the Exodus was not merely to give the people a law through a theophany, it was to take them back to the land where they could practise these laws communally in a society in which they were the majority. This was so radical an idea that an entire generation of Egyptian-born Israelites had to die before their descendants could enter the land.

Continued...

Part 5....

Why? Because the Torah’s argument is that Judaism is ideally practised within the land of Israel. There are numerous proofs to this assertion, but suffice it to say that no matter how great the strength of Diaspora Jewry, it has always supported the Jewish community in Eretz Yisrael, esteemed their presence and slightly envied their dedication and persistence. Theodor Herzl, a typically acculturated Jew, realization that Jews needed a Jewish state in 1897 after the Dreyfus Affair ,much like the New Antisemitism, suddenly made Jews of his ilk uncomfortable. Of course, he proposed the Jewish homeland for his far less acculturated Russian co-religionists, but today we must wonder, given the richness and diversity of Israeli Jewish culture, can Judaism really be practised and survive outside of a majoritarian culture? Is the Jewish ethnic boundary in Israel, which is legally enforced by the Rabbinate under Israeli law, a help or a hindrance to the diversity of Israeli Jewish culture? For that matter, is all Israeli culture “Jewish” if it is associated with Jews? One thing is certain, we are out of practice being the majority culture in a society. This explains much of the internal debate in Israel.

I hope these insights leave you with more questions than answers. If so, join me next week. I will propose a conclusion to what Jewish identity may be and why we should care, based on a very interesting interpretation of Moses’ behavior in this week’s parasha.