B'hor in a Box (part one)

Now, I'm really going to throw your chronological clocks for a loop, because in order to talk about Jacob AND Joseph, I actually want to talk about the Exodus.

I know, I'm sorry.

But there was a teaching that I once heard from Rabbi David Fohrman that has completely changed the way I read the stories of the patriarchs and has helped answer some of the questions that were raised for me in the stories of Jacob and Joseph.  If you can manage to put the playlist together in the right order, you can watch quite a collection of 10-minute YouTube videos here for Fohrman's teaching.  Also, my good buddy, Aaron Couch, has blogged about some of these ideas a few days ago, so he beat me to the punch.

We will be coming back to talk about other portions of the Exodus in the next few posts, but I'd like to take one aspect of the Passover and use it to frame our understanding of Genesis.

Fohrman, in typical rabbinic style, starts his teaching with a handful of questions.  Good Jewish thoughts always produce more questions than answers (and somewhere in the course of the wrestling [appropriate to Jacob] you feel like you have stumbled across an incredible treasure).  But one of his questions I found most peculiar to ask in light of the Exodus story.  Many orthodox Jews all around the world wear little black boxes attached to leather straps that are methodically wrapped around their arm every day called tefillin.  This is done in order to pursue the mitzvah (command) “fix these words of mine on your hearts… tie them as symbols on your hands...” found in Deuteronomy 6 and 11.  Inside these black boxes is a parchment that contains three mitzvoth: Shema (“Hear, O Israel…”), ve'ahavta (“You are to love the LORD your God…”) and the law of the broken-neck, firstborn donkey.


OK, that's weird.  The first two laws make some sense, but why in the world — out of all the 613 mitzvoth — would they choose the donkey law?

And so, without stopping to answer the question, the rabbi continues to look through the story of the Exodus.  Now, just a simple flipping through a cursory reading of the story of the Exodus produces a very interesting question.  We are told the story of the people of Israel under the oppression of the Egyptians.  Moses is call to be the deliverer and has his great confrontation with Pharaoh.  The conversation eventually leads to God dealing out ten plagues on the Egyptians.  And so we read about the Nile being turned to blood — and the frogs, the gnats, the flies, the livestock, the boils, the hail, the locust invasion, and the darkness.  Then we are told all about what is going to happen in plague number 10.  The death of the firstborn will be brought upon Egypt and all of Israel will be free to leave.  And then, right in the midst of that cliffhanger moment, with the violins beginning to swell…

We now interrupt this regular scheduled story to bring you an entire chapter devoted to the laws surrounding how you will eat the Passover meal for generations to come.

REALLY!?

Right there?  Not after you finish the story and tell us how it ends?  But RIGHT THERE?  A whole chapter of what seems like arbitrarily chosen rules.

And so, the rabbis begin digging throughout the ages and they ended up noticing some interesting things in the story of Exodus 12.  There were some interesting phrases that were chosen.  For example, the instructions tell you in the Hebrew to go and “draw out” a sheep from your flock.  Now, while that doesn't seem too odd at first, the rabbis noted that it wasn't the right word to use.  There are a handful of phrases that could be used to communicate the idea more naturally (let alone feel better, grammatically).   Why draw out?  And why did you have to eat the meal in a group — unable to eat it alone — with your staff in hand and your belt/robe on?  And why in the world did you have to roast your lamb in a pot without water?  Now, that's an odd mitzvah!

And then the rabbis read the part of the chapter where they dipped the hyssop in blood — and the lights went on.

They had heard this story before.

All of these phrases had been used in the story of Joseph when his brothers sell him to the Midianite traders.

Why a pot without water in it?  Because Joseph was thrown in a cistern without water.

Why do you eat the meal in a group?  Because when they had thrown Joseph into the cistern, they sat down and ate a meal together.

Why do you “draw out” a lamb?  Because the brothers drew out (same phrase) Joseph from the cistern.

And why do you dip the hyssop in blood?  Because the brothers dipped Joseph's tunic in blood and presented it to their father. 

Somehow, the Passover is connected to the story of Joseph.

But how, and why?

The rabbis are quick to remind us that Joseph is just a retelling of the Jacob story.

Wait… what?

You may remember that we previously mentioned the ancient Sumerian literature likes to be cyclical in nature.  The ancient Babylonians would tell stories where each generation repeated the cycle of their previous generation.  You see this in Abraham and Isaac.  If you go back and look at all the stories of Isaac's life, they are all repeats of events in Abraham's life.  Opening well, settling disputes with shepherds, lying to Abimelech about his wife.  Isaac is a retelling of Abraham.

And Joseph is a retelling of Jacob.

Think about it: Which character doesn't get along with his brother(s), has to leave home, works in the house of a foreigner, is wrongly accused, and has to deal with visions/deals with two sets of seven?

Is it Joseph or Jacob?

It's both.

But wait, what does any of this have to do with the Passover?  And what about those little black boxes?

And now, realizing how long this blog post is going to be, I will be splitting it into two parts.  So with those questions ringing in your ears, the dreaded words:

To be continued…