The Exodus You Almost Passed Over Quotes

“The second of the Ten Commandments is oddly worded: “Thou shalt not have [allegiance to] any other gods before Me.” The statement seems almost self-contradictory. Here the Torah insists on an absolute devotion to monotheism, faith in the one and only God—and then, in the selfsame statement, the text seems to take for granted the existence of other gods, saying only that we shouldn’t have allegiance to them. But what other gods are there? Isn’t the Torah’s whole point that there is only one? The problem falls away, though, if you go back to the original Hebrew and read it carefully. The second commandment states: “Thou shalt not have [allegiance to] any other elohim before Me.” Just plug in our working definition of elohim, and suddenly it all starts to make sense: the text adjures us not to have allegiance to other “powers” besides God. For, indeed, there are other great sources of power one might choose to worship. The sun is powerful, there’s no denying that. It provides light and heat, and without it, we die. Nevertheless, the second commandment tells us that the sun is off-limits for worship because we may not have allegiance to any power other than the Almighty. As”
― David Fohrman, The Exodus You Almost Passed Over

“If I really have a Creator, then my life is not just the byproduct of cold, blind chance. Someone wants me to be here, brought me into this world, and gave me the wherewithal to make something of myself here on earth. Love seems an entirely fitting response to that.”
― David Fohrman, The Exodus You Almost Passed Over

“In the Bible, on rare occasions, God seems to be willing to reveal worst-case scenarios to humans when it’s necessary, in the Almighty’s judgment, to steel them for the rigors that may well face them—or their descendants—in the future.”
― David Fohrman, The Exodus You Almost Passed Over

“Let us grant, then, that Rambam’s principle establishes a framework that may be helpful for us: that God’s forecast of bad tidings to a prophet can never be regarded as unconditional, and that humans, by exercising their free will, can always make positive choices that may alter the way divine justice prevails.”
― David Fohrman, The Exodus You Almost Passed Over

“In his Mishneh Torah (Hil. Yesodei HaTorah 10:4), Rambam speaks of the guidelines for establishing whether one who claims to have received prophecy is a genuine prophet. Rambam writes that if the prophecy the person delivers foretells some future act of compassion, mercy or beneficence on the part of God, and this event does not materialize, then the supposed prophet is surely a charlatan, because God would never renege on a promise of good tidings. If, however, the prophecy promises bad tidings—famine, destruction, or the like—then the failure of the prophecy to materialize cannot be taken as evidence that the prophet is a liar. This is so even if the prophecy of bad tidings was given unconditionally, because, Rambam argues, there is no such thing as an unconditional promise of bad tidings; the possibility of reversal always exists, even if the prophet doesn’t explicitly state this. In essence, Rambam seems to be suggesting that prophecies of bad tidings ought to be seen as cautionary warnings of a worst-case scenario that will take place unless steps are taken to avert it. Thus, when Jonah prophesied that in forty more days Nineveh would be destroyed, his prophecy must be seen as a warning to Nineveh that their destruction looms, unless it is averted by the force of human free will; in the event, it is averted, after the people of Nineveh choose to change their ways.”
― David Fohrman, The Exodus You Almost Passed Over

“Thus says YHVH, who gathers in all the dispersed people of Israel: I will gather still others to Him, beside those of [Israel] that are gathered! (Isaiah 56:8) Isaiah speaks of a time when God will gather in to the Land of Canaan all the dispersed people of Israel, but when He does so, He will gather others, too. They will all come in a grand procession: Also the Gentiles, that join themselves to accompany YHVH, to serve Him, and to love the name of YHVH… I will bring them all to My holy mountain, and make them joyful in My house of prayer (Isaiah 56:6–7)”
― David Fohrman, The Exodus You Almost Passed Over

“the Torah wasn’t written to be merely a history book. Instead, the Torah is meant to be a guidebook. That is what the name Torah implies: it teaches. It guides.[79] Sometimes the Torah guides by telling us laws. Sometimes it guides by telling us stories about our past. The stories are relevant not just because they once happened. They are relevant because, like law, they can help shape us into our best possible selves.”
― David Fohrman, The Exodus You Almost Passed Over

“The stories of Jacob’s burial and the Exodus really do converge; their essential theme is one and the same. In each, a grand procession was supposed to take place, to honor Father the way Father wanted to be honored. The only difference between the stories lies in which father we are talking about. In the Jacob story, we’re talking about a procession honoring an earthly father. In the Exodus story, the procession honors the Heavenly Father.”
― David Fohrman, The Exodus You Almost Passed Over

“Goren Ha’atad, you will recall, is where the procession paused to eulogize Jacob before arriving at their ultimate destination. It was there that the Canaanites looked on and expressed their wonder at how great an expression of mourning all this was for Egypt. As it happens, the Torah makes a point of telling us where Goren Ha’atad was: And they came to Goren Ha’atad, which is on the other side of the Jordan River (Genesis 50:10) The text goes out of its way to let us know that Goren Ha’atad was in Ever HaYarden, which is to say, on the east side of the Jordan River. But let’s do a little reality check of the geography, here: what, exactly, was the burial procession doing on the east bank of the Jordan? Their starting point was Egypt; their destination, the tomb of Machpelah in Hebron. Both those points are west of the Jordan River. What were they doing, then, on the east side of the Jordan? The shortest route from Egypt to Hebron is to head northwest in more or less a straight line. If the burial party traveled to Canaan via Goren Ha’atad, it means they went well out of their way. Leaving Egypt, they would have had to swoop down to the south of Canaan, traverse the Sinai desert, swing up and around the Dead Sea, travel due north for the entire length of that sea, and then hook left to cross the Jordan River, probably somewhere near Jericho. That’s really taking the long way.”
― David Fohrman, The Exodus You Almost Passed Over

“The story of Jacob’s burial, in the end, is the story of two heroes. The first is Joseph, who risked everything to bury his father according to his wishes. He risked the loss of power, prestige—and perhaps most of all, his good standing in the eyes of Pharaoh. But the second hero, unlikely as it may seem, is Pharaoh himself. He resisted the urge to impose upon the venerated Jacob an exclusively Egyptian identity. He allowed Jacob to be who he was—Israelite, not Egyptian—and still he and the populace would cherish him; still he and Egypt would regard Jacob as royalty. They would accord him all the honor of a king, notwithstanding Jacob’s rather public decision that Canaan was his true home. The humility evinced by Pharaoh’s stance is nothing short of remarkable.”
― David Fohrman, The Exodus You Almost Passed Over

“In truth, burial in Canaan wasn’t just about the disposition of his body—it was about the destiny of the family. What Jacob was really telling Joseph was something like: Look, Son, Egypt is nice, and Pharaoh is very gracious—but, at the end of the day, Egypt is not our place. Home is Canaan, the land God promised to us. That is where our family has an achuzah waiting for us, an ancestral holding.”
― David Fohrman, The Exodus You Almost Passed Over

“We asked earlier why it took Jacob seventeen years of living in Egypt to realize that Joseph was righteous, that Joseph had not assimilated into Egyptian culture. Why did Jacob not realize this the moment he first set eyes upon him, when Joseph embraced him, cried, and promised to take care of the family’s every need? That seems like the moment Jacob should have realized what a good son Joseph was. Why was it only now—seventeen years later—that Jacob understood this? But it makes perfect sense. This really was the moment that Jacob knew that Joseph was a loyal son. Providing for the family was one thing. That choice did not really require him to put his relationship with Pharaoh under any strain. But a state funeral in Canaan? Trying to honor that request could come at a real price for Joseph. When Joseph swore he would do it, Jacob understood what that meant. In a contest between competing fathers and their respective interests, Joseph had just chosen Jacob.”
― David Fohrman, The Exodus You Almost Passed Over

“Thus, the pattern of reverses continues. The reverses are suggested even by the syntax of the two verses. When Pharaoh tells Joseph of his dream, the Hebrew is chalom chalamti, “a dream, I dreamt” (Genesis 41:15). Thirteen years earlier, when Joseph told his dream to his brothers and then to his father, the Hebrew is chalamti chalom, “I dreamt a dream” (Genesis 37:9). The verbs are reversed.”
― David Fohrman, The Exodus You Almost Passed Over

“A pattern is taking shape in these verses. A version of the terrible events of thirteen years ago seems to be happening again, but in reverse. Thirteen years ago, Joseph was first stripped of his clothes and then thrown in a pit; now, he is first taken out of a “pit,” and then given new clothes. And it is not just the order in which the events occur that is reversed; their significance is reversed, as well. Last time around, Joseph was thrown into a pit, and now he is pulled out of one. Last time around, Joseph was stripped of clothes; now he’s getting new ones. The pattern of reverses continues. The next thing Pharaoh does is the reverse of something that happened thirteen years ago, before Joseph was thrown in a pit, and before he was stripped of his new clothes. Here’s how the text describes the event: And Pharaoh sent for Joseph (Genesis 41:14) The opposite of being brought close to someone, is being sent away from someone. And that’s exactly what happened to Joseph before he was stripped of his clothes: He was sent away from Jacob. His father had sent him to go check on his brothers. That event—his father’s decision to send him—was the first in a series of terrible dominoes that culminated in Joseph’s sale into slavery. It was the initial step toward that first “pit.” Now, that whole disastrous chain of events would be redeemed. Instead of a man sending him away toward a pit, another man would now bring him close, after pulling him out of a “pit.” That man was Pharaoh. Through this pattern, the Torah may well be telling us something about the relationship Pharaoh is beginning to create with Joseph. Pharaoh is acting out a precise inverse of Jacob’s role in this story. Whatever disappointment Joseph might have felt toward his own father—How could you have sent me away? Where were you when I was stripped, and begging to be taken out of the pit?—it is all being redeemed by the actions of Pharaoh, who will be a father-in-exile for him. Thirteen years ago, his father sent him away. Now, a new father will bring him close.”
― David Fohrman, The Exodus You Almost Passed Over

“Pharaoh and the Persian Bazaar The truth is, why Moses needed to ask for just a three-day work holiday is really part of a larger question: Why did Moses need to ask Pharaoh for anything at all? Over the course of the Exodus, Moses bargains with Pharaoh repeatedly, seeking his consent to let the slaves go. Moses exhibits extraordinary patience as the Egyptian king gives in partially, retracts his consent, and then gives in just a little more next time. For example: a plague occurs in which wild animals are unleashed into Egyptian homes and marketplaces. Pharaoh tells Moses that he will allow the Hebrews to worship for three days, but could they please do it right here, in the Land of Egypt, rather than out there in the desert? (Exodus 8:21) Moses refuses, on grounds that the Egyptians wouldn’t react kindly to Israel slaughtering these animals, since the Egyptians hold them sacred (Exodus 8:22). Pharaoh concedes the point and says that Israel can leave the country for three days—but then he adds, almost hopelessly: Just make sure you don’t go too far away! (Exodus 8:24) It all seems faintly ridiculous, the squabbling back and forth. One wonders: Isn’t all this a little beneath Moses’s dignity? Isn’t it beneath God’s? God doesn’t need to bargain with Pharaoh. God doesn’t even need Pharaoh to say yes at all! The Master of the Universe is perfectly capable of delivering His people to the Promised Land, whether Pharaoh agrees to the plan or not. So why go through all of this?”
― David Fohrman, The Exodus You Almost Passed Over