“Then Pharaoh summoned Moses and Aaron and said, ‘Go and sacrifice to your God within the land.’ But Moses replied, “It would not be right to do this, for what we sacrifice to HASHEM our God is a toevah ((Meaning of this Hebrew word is quite loaded, so for the duration of this piece it will not be translated. A common translation is “an abomination.” In the Hebrew the words appears in an a smichut, or abbreviated, format: to’avat úÌåÉòÂáÇú. See here for all of Ex. 8 in Hebrew and English.)) to the Egyptians. If we sacrifice that which is a toevah to the Egyptians before their very eyes, will they not stone us!”—Exodus 8:21-22
“Face it, to envision the progressive transformation of ‘American society’ is to presuppose that… the US will continue to exist. And, self-evidently, the existence of the US is, as it has always been and must always be, predicated first and foremost on denial of the right of self-determining existence to every indigenous nation within its borders…. Then ask yourself how you maintain a system incorporating domination and genocidal violence as integral aspects of itself without military, police and penal establishments?” —Ward Churchill
As a child, I learned that Moses went down to Pharaoh and told him to “Let my people go.” I still remember how surprised I was the first time I read the text and discovered that what Moses actually says is more along the lines of, “Let my people step out for just a moment, so they can celebrate a festival.” Stranger still, this is what God tells Moses to say, even though God has made it abundantly clear that the Israelites will be leaving for Canaan and never coming back.
God and Moses are employing a tried and true technique of liberal reformism, one very familiar to anyone who has moved in the nonprofit world: For God’s sake, never ask for what you really want! If you are against logging on public lands, for example, you must make a more “reasonable” request in order to be taken seriously—such as no cutting of trees over a certain age. The problem with this approach, of course, is that you never get what you ask for. True to form, Pharaoh laughs in Moses’ face and increases the burden on the Israelites. I get the impression that like many good radicals throughout history, God and Moses only tried being “reasonable” in order to make a point.
I have argued that the Exodus story provides a blueprint of the stages of revolution, and in Va’era this aspect of the narrative really begins to shine through. The par’sha begins with the Israelites angry at Moses for “causing” Pharaoh to increase their burdens. In this reaction I see foreshadowings of those Apaches who blamed Geronimo for provoking genocidal US violence, and of modern-day liberals who claim that direct action tactics discredit “the movement” (as if politicians have no vested interest in maintaining current power structures, but are only provoked to do so when people break the law).
But God tells Moses to plow ahead without the support of the masses, and together they initiate a series of escalating pressure tactics against the oppressors. Traditionally, these have been called “plagues.”
The first plague inconveniences Pharaoh’s people; the second strikes directly inside the palace. The third attacks people’s bodies and so on, building to the inevitable climax that we will read about next week. Likewise, Pharaoh’s reactions: he ignores the first, pretends to be moved by the second, until finally, after the plague of hail and fire, he offers a compromise: Celebrate your festival in Egypt.
Here we can recognize another archetypal moment, the one that divides the radicals from the reformers. And in Moses’ reply, the Torah offers a powerful condemnation of all those who would seek to make peace with systems of oppression: “It would not be right to do this, for what we sacrifice to HASHEM our God is a toevah to the Egyptians.”
The word toevah appears in various contexts throughout the Torah, including dietary commandments and laws of sexual purity. It is often translated as “abomination,” but “taboo” probably gets closer to the real meaning. And while he disguises his concern as one for Egyptian sensibilities, Moses is really making a much more profound, unstated point: “Just as our ways are taboo to you, so are yours to us. It is impossible for us to serve God in your land.”
The drama that plays out in Va’era is ultimately a struggle between nations. Remember that in Sh’mot, Pharaoh became afraid that the Israelites might side against the Egyptians in the case of a war, and responded by trying to kill every male child (at this stage in history, tribal membership is inherited through the male line). And in the biblical context, national identity carries strong implications of a way of life.
Ancient Egypt was a culture that worshipped death, expending lives by the tens of thousands to build tombs for the wealthy. This was anathema to the life-centered practices of Judaism. Today we, too, live in a culture that worships death, now under the guise of “economic growth.” Peer behind the façade of any profitable industry and you will find that it depends on the death of forests for timber, of mountains for coal, of oceans for seafood. What is production, after all, but the conversion of the living into the dead? ((Thanks to Derrick Jensen for this concept)) Even nonprofit environmentalism depends on a steady stream of atrocities to sustain its executives’ six-figure salaries.
It would be nice if those of us who worship life had an out, a physical promised land to escape to. But don’t forget what has always happened to indigenous, Earth-based nations when they have tried to live side by side with the death culture.
No justice can come from a system founded on the premise that life is a commodity. There can be no peace with a culture that is a toevah to its very foundations. And as long as we keep looking for ways to reform that which cannot be reformed, the liberation we seek will be forever beyond our grasp.