by Howard L. Berkowitz , delivered at Minyan M'at

Baruch Bokser, who died July 12, 1990 was an early, but not a founding, member of Minyan M’at who was a professor at the Seminary and who, like all of us, had his personal quirks. He wrote a fair amount in his lifetime but he is remembered primarily for his slim volume, “The Origins of the Seder” on the development of the Passover ritual by early Rabbinic Judaism, which has been mostly out of print. I doubt he is much read nowadays outside of specialists in academia. In M’at today he is probably unknown to the majority of current members who may well wonder about all the fuss every Shabbos HaGadol when the dvar Torah is given in his memory. He was a son, husband and a father, like many, and his passing, while sad at the time, has been receding into the slough of history and his loss has been joined by that of many others since.

No, that can’t be what you expected to hear today. Let me start again.

Baruch Bokser, who died July 12, 1990 at the age of 44, was a professor of Talmud and Rabbinics and the director of the Program in Ancient Judaism at the Seminary. He came of a distinguished family, his father having edited the siddur you hold in your hands. Baruch had smicha and a doctorate, he had a massive working knowledge of Talmudic thought as well as the best of rigorous, modern historical scholarship and he was clearly the person in the minyan to go to for all manner of questions. He produced a prodigious amount of work, including three books, in his relatively brief career and the horizon had not yet appeared on what he was capable of producing. He died bravely about a year and a half after receiving what was essentially a death sentence without despair and with his belief that we each have the power to change and to effect change still intact. It was a searing loss for Ann, the boys, Kalya, and this minyan that resonates to this day.

Which view better approximates “the Truth?” Shall we understate for fear of overstating? Shall we allow the fiction of an objective history to cause us to misrepresent history?

With the passage of time I have become more aware of the natural human tendency to gild memory, to round the rough edges and airbrush the warts. I sometimes question my objective knowledge of the very ongoingness of my own life. And yet I realize that to equate what is supposedly “objective” with what is necessarily “true” is a grievous error and that memory is a human construct and that only that which has real emotional resonance lingers.
The focus of Baruch’s scholarship was Pesach and specifically the Rabbinic response to the catastrophe of the destruction of the Temple and the perpetuation of Pesach and memory by other means. Baruch was observant and deeply believing but trained in modern historical methods and no fool and not apt to devote himself to something he did not believe in. He had been long gone when in 2001 Rabbi David Wolpe, senior rabbi of the Sinai Temple in Westwood, Los Angeles and columnist for The Jewish Week sermonized to his 2200 congregants that the Exodus probably had not occurred and that Moses probably had not existed, primarily because of the lack of archaeological evidence.

We are all sons and daughters of the Enlightenment and we hope that what we profess and the rituals we perform will, in addition to carrying the weight and imprimatur of tradition, be palatably explicable in rational terms so that we do not have to resort to the psychological dodge of a double consciousness severing reason from practice. The Rabbis in the Haggadah tell us “…whoever amplifies upon the events associated with the Exodus deserves praise” so that we are given the magnification of the plagues into 50 in Egypt and 250 at the Yam Suf. Now amidst a Rabbinic sanction to elaborate we have to decide whether the claims of a supposed Exodus of 3250 years ago are sufficiently compelling so that the adults can conduct a seder with rational conviction rather than as something done for the kinder or for the grandparents or so that others in the community do not look at them askance. As if that was not burden enough, if we are to face the issues of conviction and comfort regarding Pesach squarely, then we also have to consider the matters of the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart, the justification and likelihood of the plagues and the justification of G-d imposing bondage upon the Israelites in the first place. What follows is not some grand synthesis but rather one person’s attempt to provide himself with an intellectually respectable framework so that he need not feel either a fundamentalist or a fool.

First, let us consider the limits of what the labors of archaeologists can reasonably be expected to yield. The pursuit of the proof in stone of the existence of a single individual, unless he was the lord of a great empire, is a fool’s mission. We would not, even in theory, expect to find archaeological evidence for Abraham, Isaac, or Jacob. Bear in mind that it was not until 1993 that the first fragment was discovered containing the words for “king of Israel” and the “House of David.” In addition, we know from cross correlation of sources that the pharaohs did not record defeats, repeatedly lied in their inscriptions on public works, claimed the victories of others as their own and effaced the names of others and inserted their own. Further complicating the task at hand is the statement of Dr. Jeffrey Tigay that 99% of all administrative records of the Raameside period, which would be the most likely source to contain the sought-after confirmatory data as opposed to the stelae and such for public display, have been lost, not merely not yet found.

In terms of modern disbelief of ancient texts it is instructive to consider two examples. It was one of the settled matters of modern scholarship that Homer’s reports of ancient Greek mariners sailing far and wide across the Mediterranean for days on end far from land simply were not true because not possible. In 2001 an ancient Greek wreck of the Homeric period was found 200 miles from Cyprus. Similarly, modern scholarship long ago dismissed as false the explanation the ancient Greeks provided for the trance state of the oracle at Delphi; namely vapors rising from beneath the temple floor. In 2002 it was discovered that the region’s oily limestone is fractured by two hidden faults that cross exactly under the ruins of the temple through which intoxicating ethylene passed. So while we shall continue to hope for further archaeological finds, it appears that we should regard ancient texts as perhaps more reliable than we often do.

So, excuses aside, what do we have? Let us consider the Torah and archaeology in parallel.
“Midianite men, traders, passed by; they drew Joseph up and lifted him out of the pit and sold Joseph to the Ishmaelites for twenty pieces of silver…” (Ber. 37:28) Evidence demonstrates that twenty pieces of silver was, in fact, the average price for a slave in the first half of the second millennium BCE with the price rising to 30 pieces by the second half.

“And it was on the third day, Pharaoh’s birthday, that he made a feast for all his servants and he counted the Chamberlain of the Cupbearers and the Chamberlain of the Bakers among his servants. He restored the Chamberlain of the Cupbearers…” (Ber. 40:20) Archaeological findings inform us that what was called the “birthday” of Pharaoh represented the celebration of his accession to the throne-his divine birth-on the occasion of which prisoners and enemies could be pardoned.

“’See! I have placed you in charge of all the land of Egypt.’ And Pharaoh removed his ring from his hand and put it on Joseph’s hand. He then had him dressed in garments of fine linen and he placed a gold chain upon his neck.” (Ber. 41:41-42) Many tomb paintings and reliefs, and specifically those of Tut at Amarna, depict officials being invested in a ceremony involving receiving a ring, fine linen and a gold chain.

A high-ranking official, Vizier Aper-el, was completely unknown to modern scholarship until the late 1980’s despite having lived in one of the better documented periods of Egyptian history and having been buried in the most excavated site in Egypt. Joseph would have lived in the late Middle Kingdom to Second Intermediate period for which there is much less documentation and he would have lived in the Delta region which is still under-excavated. Aper-el is clearly a Semitic name, suggesting that such alien people could be appointed to high positions.
“And [Jacob] said, ‘Behold, I have heard that there are provisions in Egypt; go down there and purchase for us from there, that we may live and not die.’” (Ber. 42:2) Further the Torah tells us that the frontier was being monitored because Joseph’s brothers were spotted and brought to Joseph: “Joseph’s brothers came and they bowed to him, faces to the ground.” (Ber. 42:6) From a group of papyri we have the following: “We have finished letting the Bedouin tribes of Edom pass the Fortess of Merneptah Hotep-hir-Maat to the pools of Per-Atum to keep them and their cattle alive…”

Joseph is reported to have been mummified and placed in a coffin. These are Egyptian practices completely unknown in Canaan. Joseph reportedly died at the age of 110, which was considered the ideal length of life in ancient Egypt.

The narrative of Moshe’s birth contains several words that are clearly of Egyptian origin, such as: tevet/basket; gomeh/bulrushes; zafet/pitch; suf/reeds; hayor/river; and safah/riverbank. Moshe being reared at court is possible. Pharaoh Thutmose III (1457-1425 BCE) initiated the Egyptian practice of raising princes of subject kings of Western Asia. Aper-el, the Semite who became a vizier, was referred to as “a child of the nursery.” These nurseries might have housed dozens to hundreds of children.

“Now when Pharaoh let the people go, G-d did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines, although it was nearer; for G-d said, ‘The people may have a change of heart when they see war, and return to Egypt.’” (Sh. 13:17) This statement from the Torah would seem to be supported by papyrus Anastasi V from the end of the thirteenth century BCE. This document reports on the pursuit of two runaway slaves who took the same indirect route that the Israelites did from Raamses to Succot in order to avoid the Egyptian fort of Tjaru in the generally militarized region of Tjeku. The papyrus also states that it is a one day journey from Raamses to Succot, just as in the Torah.

The Shirat HaYam, the Song of the Sea, a song of triumph is overwhelmingly thought to be of thirteenth century BCE origin and one of the earliest pieces of Hebrew poetry, based on comparative sources. That date would correspond to the era of the Exodus.

Finally, regarding the reality of the plagues, let me just mention that Dr. Greta Hort introduced a reasonable theory of successive biologic causation for the first six and regional climatologically rational explanations for the next three in 1957 which Dr. John Marr confirmed as plausible in 1996 while providing an explanation for a predominance of first-born deaths in the tenth. The elements of these theories operate over the course of a year, which corresponds to the Rabbinic understanding of the length of time involved.

But the mention of the plagues provides a transition to the next concern that a modern Upper West Sider might raise in terms of moral discomfort with what the seder commemorates. Since we insist along with Abraham, “Shall not the Judge of all the earth deal justly?” (Ber. 18:25), then how can it be that Pharaoh is punished despite G-d hardening his heart and why should the courtiers and the Egyptians be punished generally?

First, let it be understood that neither G-d’s statement to Abraham at the Pact Between the Pieces “…I shall execute judgment on the nation they shall serve…” (Ber. 15:13) nor G-d’s statement to Moshe at the burning bush “Yet I know that the king of Egypt will let you go only because of a greater might” (Sh. 3:19) impact on the matter at hand. That G-d’s omniscience in no way necessarily compromises free will has been well addressed elsewhere.

In reviewing, you will recall that Pharaoh hardens his own heart for the first five plagues. G-d hardens Pharaoh’s heart for the first time with the sixth. For the seventh plague Pharaoh is again free to act and he chooses to reject Moshe’s plea. Thereafter G-d hardens Pharaoh’s heart. Unethical you say for G-d to proceed in such a way and deprive Pharaoh of his free will? However, we read, “Go to Pharaoh. For I have hardened his heart and the hearts of his courtiers…” (Sh. 10:1) and yet six lines later the courtiers say to Pharaoh, “Are you not yet aware that Egypt is lost?” thereby persuading Pharaoh to summon Moshe and Aaron to court. The courtiers were apparently able to overcome G-d’s hardening and so we have to assume that Pharaoh had the same capability which he refused to exercise.

Well then, how do we justify the deaths of the courtiers? In a reciprocal of the above, in Shemot 14:4 G-d states, “Then I will stiffen Pharaoh’s heart…” but in 14:5 the Torah tells us, “…Pharaoh and his courtiers had a change of heart…” The courtiers had chosen their own course. In 14:8, again, we read, “The L-rd stiffened the heart of Pharaoh…” yet all the courtiers engage in the pursuit of the Israelites, as well.

All right then, how do we justify the suffering of the soldiers under orders and the Egyptians generally? First, though it may offend modern sensibilities, Frymer-Kensky reminds us that in the ancient world it was understood that the city or nation is liable for the actions of its ruler. In many sources Pharaoh is referred to simply as “Egypt”, embodying the whole nation, its history and gods. Indeed, this is the very reason G-d confronts Pharaoh.

But the Egyptian people are further implicated in events personally and directly. In Shemot 1:8 we are told Pharaoh addressed “his people” saying, “Look, the Israelite people are much too numerous for us. Let us deal shrewdly with them…” In Shemot 1:13 we read, “The Egyptians ruthlessly imposed upon the Israelites the various labors…” In Shemot 11:3 we read that, “The L-rd disposed the Egyptians favorably toward the people…” suggesting that they were not kindly disposed to the Israelites before. And, as subsequent historical events have shown, Pharaoh’s “willing executioners” must be held accountable because even a tyrant and an army cannot impose such immoral behavior on an unwilling people.

Finally, we come to what is the most difficult question to satisfactorily answer and which is also most central to our observance of Pesach; that is, what justified the Israelite suffering in Egypt? I would have said “our suffering,” but that is the very identification that hangs in the balance with the present discussion and which is the central mission of the Haggadah. It may be that for a more fundamentalist mind serving as a means so that “…[G-d’s] fame may resound throughout the world” (Sh. 9:16) is quite sufficient but we would be uncomfortable with that as the sole justification. This question has been considered throughout our history and a comprehensive review of the attempts at answering it would be daunting. I will give a very brief overview of some of the traditional answers.

It has been claimed that at the Pact Between the Pieces G-d was merely informing Abraham of future events and that no cosmic scheme required Israelite bondage but that the Israelites’ attempts at assimilation in Egypt resulted in the enslavement. If one accepts the Amoraic position of “no suffering without sin,” then commentators have claimed the bondage as retribution for Abraham’s sins of leaving for Egypt and not trusting in G-d during the famine, for misleading Pharoah, for endangering Sarah, or for the lack of faith implicit in asking “How do I know I will possess it?” (Ber. 15:8) Or, perhaps, the enslavement was punishment for Sarah’s treatment of Hagar, the Egyptian slave? Or it might have been that the people inherited the sin of Joseph having been sold into slavery. Or possibly the bondage did not represent a punishment at all but was a Divinely conceived plan to educate and develop the Jewish people. On a theological level, the educational message of Egypt was the Exodus and the message was intended for the world. Or the experience of enslavement was intended to serve as the fountainhead of compassion and moral awareness, given how often mitzvot are preceded or followed by a reference to the bondage in Egypt. Or the enslavement was a protective maneuver intending to save the Israelites from assimilation and to teach them to be “a nation apart.” I have hardly been exhaustive here.

Obviously, all of these attempts at justifying the bondage in Egypt and Israelite suffering will not satisfy modern sensibilities. G-d using us as pawns and a means for a grand theological statement will not do. Certainly the concepts of “no suffering without sin” and that of “chastisements of love” will not serve in a post-Holocaust world.

The only explanation that I have ever been able to generate that made some comfortable sense to me involves the beginning of Parsha Vayeshev which I will present as a concatenation of snippets. “This, then, is the toledot (that is, the story or line) of Jacob [colon] And Joseph brought bad reports of {his brothers} to their father…his brothers, they hated him…Israel said to Joseph: ‘Go and see as to your brother’s [shalom]…’ a man came upon him wandering in the fields…’What do you seek?’ ‘I am looking for my brothers’… {his brothers} saw him from afar, and before he came close to them they conspired to kill him…and {they} cast him in a pit…Midianite traders…pulled Joseph up…{and}sold Joseph for twenty pieces of silver to the Ishmaelites, who brought Joseph to Egypt.”

Here the fate of Jacob’s descendants is determined by his children in a context of the operation of free will in which G-d’s active involvement, if any, is limited to the appearance of an agent who affords the brothers a potential opportunity for reconciliation which is spurned with all the natural and inevitable attendant consequences for them and us, because we are the continuation of the story or line of Jacob/Israel. Once that course was set upon by the brothers’ choices, then G-d was free to use the consequences for G-d’s purposes in this world, as with Pharaoh’s unregenerate heart.

I think this approach converts a seemingly superfluous scene into a poignant encounter. I refer to Bereshit 46: “So Israel set out with all that was his, and he came to Beer-sheva…G-d called to Israel in a vision by night: ‘Jacob! Jacob!’ He answered, ‘Here.’ And G-d said, ‘I am G-d, the G-d of your father. Fear not to go down to Egypt, for I will make you there into a great nation.’” The language of this text echoes the previous encounters with the Divine of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and that yet to come for Moshe at the burning bush. Jacob is encamped at Beer-sheva, just at the border with Egypt, struggling at night, as he once had years before, knowing he is being drawn inexorably by his love of Joseph but also knowing that in entering Egypt he will be fulfilling the prophecy made to Abraham, thereby condemning his descendants to enslavement. It is this fear G-d reassures him about. Jacob understands that, twist and turn as he may, G-d’s word will be fulfilled by the inevitabilities of human nature. And so, resigned, he turns towards the border…and history.

In my view, if at a minimum at the seder we were talking about how a small, ragtag bunch of Semitic nomads with a loose kinship connection was transformed by a common experience of some sort of oppression from which they escaped under circumstances regarded by them as unusual so that they developed a common identity which resisted lapse and loss for over three millennia often under the most trying circumstances so that the resultant people and its remembrance of Pesach survived down to this day and so that the seder commemorating their origins remained the oldest continuously observed annual ritual on earth, I would embrace this and say –Dayyenu- it would be enough to celebrate. I would hope, in addition, we would have the ability to perceive an aspect of Divinely ordained purpose to this astonishing group survival.

I was not present that last Shavuos Yizkor Baruch was able to appear at this minyan. I heard from many sources on many occasions how he prayed and wept, with what thoughts in his heart one trembles to consider. His tears and supplications were communicated to all those in the room. I have thought about that scene many times over the intervening years and elaborated on it so that while I know I was not present sometimes I feel as if I had been. I chose not to visit Baruch during his last hospital stay for reasons I can no longer recall because I could no longer fathom them. I was not present for those last days when, I have been told, in his cachectic exhaustion, he continued to struggle to put on his tfillin. I have tended to embroider that image in my mind and while I know I was not there sometimes I feel as if I had been. And so we are reminded that the Haggadah tells us: “In every generation every person shall regard himself or herself as having been personally redeemed from Egypt.” In death, as in life, Baruch taught us about Pesach.

Gerald Edelman, the Nobelist and expert on neural Darwinism, has said that no brain event ever happens the same way twice. Even memory, he says, is always a variant, a recreation and never a repetition. So shall all…all be swept away in a Heraclitean flux? No, because the vagaries of the individual neuron are saved by the summation of the whole brain just as the unreliability of individual memory is salvaged by communal and cultural memory.
So what is the truth about Baruch? Did “flights of angels sing him to his rest?” I doubt it. But he was a good son, husband and father, a friend, a scholar who was the first of the real core members of M’at to die and he did so much too early leaving painfully young children behind. His death left a subliminal scar in this minyan, similar to how a post-shiva attempt to repair the laceration of a lapel delivered at the funeral, however skillful, always reveals the loss. The M’at, and now Ansche Chesed, Hevra Kadisha was founded in anticipation of Baruch’s death to serve him and it continues as a memorial.

As Rabbi Silber has observed, memory is an ethical category. You new members, you who never met or saw Baruch Bokser, have the greatest investment in preserving his memory. You chose to join this minyan the collective character of which was formed by the cumulative experiences we have undergone. We no longer have a temple where we can do the viddui bikkurim, a statement of who we are and where we came from as a people. The seder is its substitute. Every amidah, every kiddush, every mezuzah reminds us of our leaving Egypt. Every Shabbos HaGadol reminds us of Baruch’s leaving this world. If we forget Baruch, we are lost as a minyan. If we forget Pesach, we are just lost.


Shabbat Shalom.

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