Who Are You?
Issues of Identity in the Book of Exodus
Introduction
The book of Exodus begins with high intensity. Surely the opening two chapters have as one of their main aims the setup for the life of Moses, but they say and do much more for the larger narrative. In the characters, themes, and conflicts they introduce, they invite readers into a certain narrative, one that draws a distinct line in the sand, so to speak.
Exodus 2 especially concern itself with issues of identity. Who are you? This is a question that the narrative poses, directly and indirectly, to Moses. In this post, I want to explore how issues of identity function within the narrative and how they invite readers themselves to make decisions.
Narrative Threads from Exodus 1
In Exodus 1, the first main character that readers meet is the new king of Egypt, who did not know Joseph. (For a more in-depth consideration of Exodus 1, see my previous post here.) He fears the “Hebrew people,” as he calls them. He sets in motion the deliverance of Israel by opposing Israel. (Intriguingly, readers’ previous encounters with the kings of Egypt have all been more positive. In Genesis 12 and 41, for instance, the king adopts a more positive disposition to the people of God.)
Then readers meet two women identified in the Hebrew text as “Hebrew midwives.” Already, we see issues of identity becoming crucial. However, with this one textual detail there is some ambiguity. Though the Hebrew text is fairly straightforward, in the Septuagint, known also as LXX, which is a Greek translation of the Hebrew text, the women are identified more ambiguously as “the midwives of/to the Hebrews.”
Do you see the issue? We might ask: are the midwives Egyptian or Hebrew? Scholars debate this issue. Cases can be made for both sides. What might be just as interesting for the purposes of this post is the ambiguity itself. The identity of these women cannot be pinned down. Readers have to read with an openness to their identity being ambiguous.
In other words, identity itself might be something that is not so straightforward in this narrative. If we were to think that being Egyptian or being Hebrew could be marked out by certain physical characteristics, actions, dress, speech patterns, and so on, then perhaps Exodus is already preparing us to see that identity can be more fluid and expansive. Whether one is “Egyptian”—perhaps here representing those who oppose God—or “Hebrew”—those who belong to God’s people—might mean more than physical, social, or cultural characteristics. Perhaps Exodus is working on sculpting identity according to a different value system.
Looking over the landscape of Exodus 1 as a whole, we readers have now met three main characters. One is an Egyptian male in power. The others are two women (Egyptian? Hebrew?) who vis-à-vis the king are powerless. The king is not named; the women are. The king is fearful; the women fear God. Clearly the narrative is inviting us readers to see the world through a particular lens. In terms of identity, one can either be afraid of the surrounding circumstances or one can trust God to deliver. This seems to be how identity is being sculpted in Exodus so far.
For the women, their reliance on God meant their disobedience of the king.
More Disobedient Women!
In Exodus 2, readers meet three additional women who play prominent roles in the narrative. First, they meet a Hebrew mother. Exodus 2 tells readers of a Levite man and a Levite woman who have a son. At the end of Exodus 1, the king instructed all the people of the land that if they encountered a female Hebrew baby, they could preserve it; but if they encountered a male Hebrew baby, they were to throw it into the Nile River.
Well, this Hebrew man and Hebrew woman have a Hebrew son. What will they do? Readers learn that the woman hides the baby. The third woman in the narrative follows the path of the previous two: she disobeys the king. The father disappears from the narrative. Does this imply that he did not support the action of his wife? Does it simply indicate that he was not a major character in the following events? The narrative does not tell readers. It only focuses on the woman.
After hiding the baby for as long as she could, she places him inside a basket, and then she puts the basket among the reeds of the Nile. (Despite some popular renditions of this story, she does not send the basket sailing down the river.) She has technically obeyed the king—she’s placed the Hebrew boy in the Nile. But obviously she has not fulfilled the intent of his command.
After the baby has been placed in the reeds, readers encounter the fourth woman in the narrative: the sister of the baby boy. She stands nearby, waiting to see what would happen. More on her in a moment.
To summarize so far: we have had four women who have all disregarded the king’s command, directly or indirectly.
Then readers meet the fifth woman in the narrative. She is identified as the king’s daughter. Within this particular narrative thus far, she presents readers with an interpretive challenge. On the one hand, she is a woman, and women in this narrative so far have disobeyed the king. On the other hand, as the king’s daughter, she represents Egyptian power, which so far has opposed the people of God.
In other words, when readers first encounter the king’s daughter, they are not yet sure which path she will take. Further, because she is both a woman and Egyptian elite, however she responds will deconstruct any simple schema that readers might have developed for understanding the identity of characters within this narrative. This narrative does not operate with an oversimplified calculus in which those in power are “bad,” and powerless women are “good.”
How does she respond? Which identity does she choose? Seeing the crying baby, the narrator informs readers that she had compassion for him. She does not throw him into the Nile.
Then the boy’s sister approaches and offers to retrieve a woman from the Hebrews who could nurse him. The daughter of the king allows it. Then the sister brings back the boy’s mother. The king’s daughter will now pay the boy’s mother to nurse her own son. Quite the twist!
The identity of the king’s daughter is marked not by the power she inherited because of her royal status but by the compassion she shows to the boy. She, like the women before her, disobeys the king—her own father. Even the name she gives the boy, with its subtle connection to the idea of “draw out of water,” will forever serve as a memorial to her disobedience: you, father, instructed me to throw into the water, but I drew out. Her identity shows her to be one who aligns herself, even if indirectly, with the God of Israel.
To summarize what I said at the beginning of this post: readers are being shaped to see that identity goes “below the skin,” so to speak. In Exodus, identity is tied to choices about the people and the God with whom one aligns oneself. In other words, identity is theological.
Moses in the Land of Egypt
This is the setup for the introduction of Moses as an adult. Readers have been prepared to see the significance of questions about identity. Moses is eventually brought to live with the daughter of the king. Thus, his own identity is complex from the beginning: he is a Hebrew by birth, yet he will be raised as an Egyptian. Readers might wonder: will he be “Hebrew”—one who trusts in the God of Israel and belongs to God’s people—or will he be “Egyptian”—one who relies on the power given to him to oppose God’s people?
The first encounter with the grown Moses gives some clues. He lives as one who benefits from his newfound status: he does not have to participate in the hard labor of the Hebrews. Yet as he walks among them, he observes an Egyptian physically abusing a Hebrew. This triggers a sort of righteous indignation in Moses apparently, because he kills the Egyptian and buries him in the sand. He is conflicted in understanding his identity. But he has now taken a step toward forming that identity.
The following day, he observes a Hebrew attacking another Hebrew. Rather than responding by killing the perpetrator, he seems troubled that these two brothers would see each other as enemies. In the process, he learns that his actions from the previous day are known. He knows that once the king finds out, then his own life will be in jeopardy. Therefore, he flees.
Moses in the Land of Midian
He ends up in the land of Midian. This introduces another category to what was previously binary: will Moses be Egyptian, Hebrew, or Midian? While there, he rescues some women from a threat. In return, they invite him to their home. The long story short: he ends up marrying one of the women, a daughter of the Midianite priest. He has now wrapped up his already-complex identity with another layer.
Two details of his encounter and time with the Midianites stand out. First, when the daughters return to their father to report why they have returned so soon after setting off to water the flocks, they say, “An Egyptian helped us . . .” (v. 19). This statement is interesting. Readers know that identifying Moses as an Egyptian is partially true. He has been raised by the daughter of the king of Egypt, among Egyptians. Upon what basis did they determine that he was Egyptian? Was it his dress? Was it some physical characteristic? Was it his language? Yet in another sense, their statement is false. He is a Hebrew.
On another level, this ambiguity with Moses’ identity resonates with the earlier ambiguity of the midwives’ identities. Like those women, we are wondering: is Moses Egyptian or is he Hebrew? Pressing further, we might ask: who will Moses choose to be? Is he truly “Egyptian”? Or will he choose an alternative identity?
Second, after having been welcomed by the priest of Midian, Moses takes Zipporah as a wife. They have a son, whom they name Gershom. The reasoning that Moses offers for this name choice is, “I have been an immigrant in a foreign land.” To what is he referring? On the surface, he surely has in mind that he’s now living in Midian, though he is from Egypt.
However, readers might wonder whether Moses’ statement pushes in another direction, perhaps even in one of which he was not aware. Not only has he been an immigrant while living in Midian. Readers know that he has been an immigrant while living in Egypt. That is, his true identity, his true homeland, is somewhere else. The journey on which he is about to embark will take him to that land, the land of promise. It will require of him to acknowledge that he truly is a “stranger in a strange land” while living in Egypt. He is not a child of the king’s daughter. He is a child of Abraham.
Sculpting Identities in Exodus
For readers to enter this particular story, they must be open to recognizing that it requires of them a willingness to allow their identities to be reconfigured. They must reconsider how identities are even determined. In this narrative, identity is sculpted by trusting in the God of Abraham, even in the face of threat. It involves recognizing oneself as a foreigner in a foreign land, adopting a set of values that might be at odds with the values of the people among whom we live. It transcends political, social, cultural boundaries that we might draw. Further, it is a choice. One must decide to be faithful today to this God and to belong to this people that God is forming.