Shemot: Presence in Absentia
We are greeted by familiar faces in the opening verses of Shemot – Ya’akov is mentioned, as are his sons; we are told that Yosef has died, and that a new Pharaoh has arisen, one who does not know – or chooses not to know – him. As we are told of the people of Israel’s bondage, of their enslavement in Egyptian labour, there is one character, a character we know well, that is missing entirely. He is mentioned only in passing, with brevity and subtlety. Such subtlety is characteristic of Tanach, as Rabbi Jonathan Sacks reflects; he writes that ‘the Torah is a deep and subtle book, and it does not always deliver its message on the surface’.[1] Here it is no different. G-d’s presence is subtle, quiet, so much so that it seems that he is almost entirely absent. He only reappears at the very end of the second chapter, hearing the cries and desperation of His people, remembering His covenant with their forefathers.
The Sages discuss the nature of these cries, giving us an insight into their narrative significance. Discussing the use of the word נאקתם, ‘their groaning’, in Ex.2:24, Or HaChayim notes that ‘the Torah informs us that although this outcry was not a direct appeal to G-d for help’, it was distressful enough that ‘G-d […] respond[ed] to a general groaning’.[2] He goes on to note that the emphasis on the words מן העבודה, repeated twice in Ex. 2:23, ‘may indicate that the prayer/outcry rose up to G-d without the help of any intermediary’, emphasizing the intolerable nature of their suffering.[3] Sforno disagrees with this view, stating that ‘G-d’s response was not due to their repenting and praying, but [simply because He] was angry over the excessive cruelty with which the Egyptians treated the Jewish people’.[4] Whilst both explanations could coexist, neither accounts for why it is now, after so many years of servitude, that G-d reappears, hearing his people’s cries, the Torah writing ‘וירא ה’ את-בני ישראל וידע ה, ‘and G-d saw the people of Israel, and G-d knew them’ (Ex.2:25).
Nechama Leibowitz is one of the few Jewish scholars who addresses this puzzling subtlety and its possible significance, writing in her commentary on Shemot that G-d’s presence is ‘conspicuous by its absence’.[5] Before these three verses at the very end of Shemot’s second chapter, ‘there has been no reference, direct or implied, to the name of G-d (except in connection with the midwives)’, who are described as G-d-fearing, and dealt with by Him (Ex.1:20-21).[6] Leibowitz poses the questions which arise for any discerning reader – where is G-d? Has He abandoned His people, His covenant? G-d’s absence is not total, in fact – he appears in reference to the midwives, and in the Talmud’s b. Sotah 12b, Rabbi Yose b. Hanina suggests that ‘Pharaoh’s daughter saw Divine spirit’ as she drew Moshe from the water, relating the suffix ו, ‘him’, in the word ותראהו to G-d rather than to the baby in the basket.[7] Though these small references appear, they are brief, deepening the significance of G-d’s overall absence. Leibowitz’s explanation for this is that perhaps ‘the text wished to give expression, not by explicit teaching or violat[ion] of the narrative framework – to the Jewish people’s sense of abandonment by G-d in the midst of its suffering’.[8] There is a great sense of focus on the labors they must endure, the decree against the firstborn boys, the Egyptian people’s general cruelty, steeping Shemot in despair and distress. As Leibowitz notes, the ‘non-recurrence of the Divine name in these two chapters may well symbolize the impenetrable barrier that separated Him from the generation from bondage’, something which changes at the very end of the second chapter.[9]
Suddenly, without warning, G-d reappears, a merciful moment which marks a ‘turning point of the story, the turning point from serfdom to redemption’ for the people of Israel.[10] This is indicated through the style and structure of the text, alongside the very blatant reappearance of this previously hidden figure. In her analysis, Leibowitz writes that ‘G-d first appears in the role of the object – the target of [the] groanings and cries’, before he is referred to ‘in the role of subject’ four times.[11] Having been a background figure in Shemot thus far, G-d is then reintroduced as a prominent ‘factor in the life of Israel’, the text foregrounding ‘the progressive breaking down of barriers and resumption of the link between the upper and lower worlds’ which has occurred during this period of bondage.[12] The force and definitiveness with which G-d reappears emphasizes the strength of His relationship with the Jewish people, the mention of the Abrahamic covenant only serving to reinforce this. He remembers His people, His promises, and He turns His eye towards them, seeing all that has been done to them and all the suffering they have endured. As Leibowitz so brilliantly puts it, ‘no longer would He work from behind the scenes but would act openly in full public view, bursting forth into the arena of history with a strong hand and outstretched arm’.[13]
Though writing from a Christian perspective, L. Roger Owens also discusses this question in Shemot’s opening chapters, noting how though the text ‘tells how [the Jewish people] multiplied and how they were enslaved, […] it does not show G-d’s hand in this, so we do not know why G-d let them be enslaved’.[14] Like Leibowitz Owens reflects on how G-d’s absence emphasises ‘the suffering and the loud cries of His people’, leading Him to remember them and His covenant with their ancestors, whilst also suggesting that this absence sets up ‘parameters’ within Shemot which allow for a ‘blank slate’, allowing ‘the narrative, as it proceeds, [to] draw [a new] portrait of G-d’.[15] Such a reading indicates that His absence, and His powerful reappearance, allow the Torah to create a literary environment in which G-d’s might can be fully realized – He will bring plague upon plague on the Egyptians, freeing His people with true divine strength.
The references to G-d in relation to the midwives do not undercut the power of this literary moment; on the contrary, they embolden it. As Owens points out, the language of Exodus 1:7 ‘echoes the language of Genesis 1 where G-d commands the creatures of the earth to be fruitful’, creating a linguistic and thematic link between the beginnings of both books.[16]Owens writes that this ‘subtly suggests that the events of [Shemot] are no accident, just as the creation was no accident, but was accomplished by the hand of G-d’.[17] Yes, G-d is largely absent from Shemot’s opening narrative, but He is very much present in quiet, unassuming ways, driving the narrative forward. His hand is visible, ever so slightly, interwoven in the words of Torah, and coming fully into view as the cries of the Jewish people reach their peak. G-d’s strength can be felt in His presence and in His absence. Without His absence, Moshe would not have found his way into a basket on the Nile, floating into the home of the Pharaoh himself. Without His presence, Moshe would never have had the knowledge or the direction to act as G-d’s right hand, ultimately freeing the people of Israel from bondage. The Torah allows for the effect of both presence and absence, teaching us that there is power in and room for both.
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[1] Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, Lessons in Leadership, (2015), pg.61
[2] Or HaChayim on Exodus 2:23:1
[3] Or HaChayim on Exodus 2:23:23
[4] Sforno on Exodus 2:23:4
[5] Nechama Leibowitz, Studies in Shemot, trans. Aryeh Newman, (1976), pg.17
[6] Leibowitz, pg.17
[7] B. Sotah 12b
[8] Leibowitz, pg.18
[9] Leibowitz, pg.18
[10] Leibowitz, pg.18
[11] Leibowitz, pg.19
[12] Leibowitz, pg.19
[13] Leibowitz, pg.19
[14] L. Roger Owens, ‘Free, Present, and Faithful: A Theological Reading of the Character of G-d in Exodus’ in New Blackfriars, Vol.85 No.1000, (2004), pp.614-627, pg.619
[15] Owens, pg.619, 620
[16] Owens, pg.620
[17] Owens, pg.620