July 31st: Ekev
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
Sometimes, history is boring. All those details and ins and outs of every single event can be overwhelming, and our minds simply refuse to engage any more. This is why simple explanations are so popular. Rather than get into the nitty-gritty on every historical question, a generalization or platitude is much easier to grab—and our poor brains can stop straining.
Sometimes, however, history can be illuminating and help us understand what was really happening back then—and how Biblical “precedents” quoted today may be a bit overdrawn.
A case in point comes in this week’s Torah portion. While the Book of Deuteronomy presents itself as a series of farewell lectures by Moses (circa 1200 BCE), most modern Bible scholars date it much later—around 620 BCE. Rather than being Moses’ words, it reflects what later authors thought Moses could/should have said. Many of Deuteronomy’s “ancient” warnings and instructions seem remarkably prescient about problems experienced during the last generations of the Davidic dynasty—well after Moses’ time.
In particular are the disturbing calls for the Israelites to utterly destroy all of the inhabitants. “You shall destroy all the peoples that the Lord your God delivers to you, showing them no pity. And you shall not worship their gods, for that would be a snare to you.” (7.16) Given this and other similar passages, one would assume that a massive invasion wiped out all the Canaanites and secured the Land for Israel. However, the archeological record shows no such invasion or destruction. Moreover, as the Bible describes post-Conquest history, we read a lot about the Israelites living in close proximity to various non-Jewish groups—and having the kinds of interactions one would expect: commerce, social mores, ethnic sensibilities, and different and sometimes competing religions. Israel lived in the same towns and regions as the various Canaanite groups—groups which obviously were not destroyed in a dramatic invasion.
Much evidence points to a much slower migration into Canaan—from both Mesopotamia and Egypt, and it can be compared to other historical migrations. One example is when the Christians reconquered the Iberian Peninsula and expelled all the Muslims and Jews. Rather than an all-at-once expulsion, the Reconquista took a few centuries, and the exodus of Muslims was gradual and over that same timespan. As for the Jews’ “Expulsion from Spain,” the 1492 date was actually the end of a 100 year out-migration—with some Jews leaving and others converting to Christianity so that they could stay.
Another similarly gradual example of migration was that of African Americans departing the South and moving up North. Starting with the escape of slaves on the Underground Railroad, the migration continued after Emancipation and for another hundred years. A significant wave of this migration came after the 1927 Flood when the levee broke, and thousands of Mississippi Delta sharecroppers lost everything and took barges up the River. My father recalled what he saw in the 1940s—how, when he traveled between New Orleans and Memphis or Chicago, there were always lots of Blacks taking the train North, and very few taking the train South. It was a gradual migration that changed the demographics of both the South and many Northern cities.
Archeological evidence and Biblical passages suggest that the “Conquest of Canaan” might have been a similar kind of process—and some scholars even suggest that not all the Hebrews/Israelites went to Egypt in the first place. Some went and experienced what we read in Exodus. Many others stayed in the Land of Canaan—where Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob lived! Others still continued to move back and forth along the ancient trade and cultural route between the Fertile Crescent and the Nile. In other words, the Bible’s account may be more summarizing and dramatic than the actual migration and settlement patterns of our ancient ancestors.
This does not mean that the inspirational and moral aspects of Deuteronomy falter. The notion of God taking care of us and instructing us in piety and morality still stand. One example is found in Deuteronomy 8.10, a passage that anchors the mitzvah of giving thanks for our food: “When you eat and are satisfied, you shall praise the Lord your God for the good land which has been given to you.” Since the praising instruction comes after the eating and feeling satisfied phrases, the Rabbis crafted the traditional Jewish custom of saying a Grace after meals, Birkat Hamazon.
Getting back to the many-centuries-later composition of Deuteronomy, perhaps some of the conquest “instructions” are ways of seeding the religious reforms of King Josiah (circa 620 BCE) back in Moses’ day. Or they could represent “singing the blues” about the continuing challenges of living among neighbors with different religions, mores, legal traditions, etc. “Too bad we didn’t just get rid of them all,” but of course we did not. There are always those who imagine a simpler world, but God gives us variety in creation, variety in humanity, and variety and diversity in the ways we form groups and learn to live together.
To me, Deuteronomy is like all the other books of the Bible, reflecting the many different Jewish voices that have expressed themselves in our long and complex history. Every comment is not a marching order. It was not then, and it is not now. We read and we reflect, and we join with the ancients in trying to ascertain the best ways we can approach God and live reverently.