Joshua: Son and sacrifice

Joshua is an enigmatic figure. He is present in a number of stories in the Torah and yet slips under the radar, such that people are not able to, off the cuff, recall much about him except for his being one of the “good spies” and eventually taking over from Moses.

We know nothing about his childhood or background apart from the fact that he is the son of a man named Nun, of the tribe of Ephraim. But there is a fascinating midrash from Yalkut Shimon that suggests a very formative incident:

Rabbi  Eliezer said: For all those years in which Israel sat in Egypt, the Ephraimites sat securely, tranquilly and serenely, until Nun, a descendant of Ephraim, came and declared, “The L-rd has appeared to me and commanded me to take you out.” [He felt/He did it due to the] pride in his heart that they were of royal descent and great warriors; and they got up, took their sons and daughters and exited Egypt. Then the Egyptians arose and killed all their warriors.

In this narrative, where Joshua as a young man experienced this tremendous failure on the part of his father, and perhaps his death, we could understand it if he began to see his teacher and mentor Moshe as a surrogate father figure. Moshe clearly trusts him, appointing him to be the military leader in the battle against Amalek. But we have stronger indications of a bond that is more akin to father and son.

When Moses climbs Mount Sinai, he takes only Joshua with him (although Joshua seems to vanish immediately, with Moses ascending alone – Ex. 24:13,15). Moses tells the elders “Wait here until we will return” (Ex. 24:14) in language very reminiscent of the Akeda story in which Abraham says to his servants, (Gen. 22:5) “Stay here with the donkey… and we will return to you.” Yet Abraham is misleading them. He cannot be sure that “they” will return; according to God’s command, only he will come back.  

In suggesting “And we will return”, Moses is referencing that foundational Jewish story. This does two things: (a) He is placing himself and Joshua in a father-son type relationship (b) He is placing Yehoshua into some kind of sacrificial role. But what that is unclear.

The sacrifice theme continues much later when Joshua is finally officially appointed as Moses’s successor. Moses lays his hands upon him, an action associated with sacrifices.[1] However, Joshua is not to be “sacrificed” in the sense of being put to death. How is he a sacrifice then? The answer I can think of would be that He is a sacrifice in the sense of something pure and worthy, being offered up to God’s service. The intertextuality here hints to us that he has the purity both of Isaac and of the animal at the altar.

Moses’s own children are not worthy successors; Joshua functions as his surrogate son. For Joshua, Moses replaces his failed father Nun, unlike him being someone who genuinely hears God’s voice, correctly and accurately, and leads the people into life, not death. It may even be, as is so often the case, that this early trauma propelled Joshua into his role, spurring him to take on responsibility and leadership so as to fix the crack that opened in his soul.

* * These ideas emerged during a Bibliodrama on Joshua in Efrat, August 2022, based on insights by Rabbi David Debow and others. Yael Valier was the first to suggest the connection between the language of the Akeda and that of the scene at Mt Sinai, but she takes it in a slightly different direction. Her own interpretation of the connection of Sinai with Akeda is that it is intended to indicate the selection of Joshua at this moment for something "big", just as Isaac was being selected for something important – with the others (Ishmael, Eliezer) being told to “remain behind”. 

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[1] God says “lay your hand” and yet Moses lays both hands. It seems as if Moses deviates from the details of the divine command. The Talmud (Menachot 93b) discusses the discrepancy between one hand and both hands, and there Resh Lakish concludes that in the context of animal sacrifice, it is the same thing and the language is interchangeable. He explicitly excludes this case, when the hands are laid upon Joshua; but the idea suggested in this blog would allow him to include this case too in the same category, of "animal sacrifice" so to speak, in a metaphorical sense. Which saves Moses from the charge of not properly fulfilling the divine command.

Shema: From child to adult, trust and faith

Many Jewish parents, tucking in their children at night, chant the bedtime “Shema Yisrael” (“Hear O Israel”) with them. In a situation of healthy parenting, the room is quiet and dark; the child is swaddled and safe, engulfed in a feeling of trust and wellbeing as the parent sits close by. The child knows that even when the parent leaves the room, it’s not to go far; one call or cry of alarm is enough to bring that loving presence hurrying back.

I want to suggest that this scene, these feelings, might also be being replayed as the child grows into an adult – with the same feelings now transposed onto the Transcendent Divine Parent. What are the rituals as we say the shema? We pause for a moment; the room is quiet. We place a hand upon our eyes, swaddling ourselves, creating darkness. God is close by. We make ourselves aware of that by declaring that God is one with everything, and hence everywhere. One in the mystical sense, that “there is nothing beside Him.” Even when we ourselves do not see or feel God, one call or cry is enough to connect us to the Presence.

The faith and trust that what we practice nightly in a healthy childhood emotional situation, is then in maturity applied to healthy faith emotional development. It is a daily affirmation of basic trust in the Creator and in our own worthiness as created beings. And even if the childhood situation was not healthy, there is still hope for the adult who intentionally creates healthy faith structures, that this may, we hope, actually rectify some of that childhood dysfunction.

(With thanks to Rabbi Dr Elie Holzer, in whose class on the Sefat Emet these insights arose.)

Orphans

Esther is orphaned of both her father and mother; that is why she is raised by her cousin Mordechai. Under the assumption that every detail of a person's biography shapes them in a certain way, what is the significance of her being an orphan?

It has been pointed out many times that the Esther and Joseph story share similarities - both in the storyline (dragged away from their homes, to make their way alone in a foreign context; becoming close to a powerful ruler and being able to help their families through their position of power etc.) and in actual intertextual connections, of similar words and phrases.

Joseph too was an orphan - his mother having died when he was a young child. Although his father Jacob is still alive, Joseph does not see him between the age of 17 and 39, until they are reunited. Conceivably, he feels abandoned by him, for allowing his brothers to sell him and not coming to look for him. Additionally, he cannot even know if Jacob is still living all this time. Thus, for all intents and purposes he is orphaned of both parents for most of his young adult life: in Potiphar's house, in the prison, and in the first part of his service as Pharaoh's viceroy.

There is a commandment to be kind to the orphan, because this person is vulnerable, lacking the basic parental care and nurturing needed for fundamental security in the world. It seems, looking through the prism of every detail carefully calibrated by the Divine, that Joseph and Esther being orphaned at a young age was part of what shaped these two for their important and historical destiny. How exactly it did so only God knows; but I imagine that it created a sensitivity, a reflectiveness, and a shyness that was part of their appeal, that meant that they both "found favour in the eyes of all" - which was an important part of their success. 

We also know that they were both described as beautiful. Rabbi Isaac Luria, the Arizal, points out that the word for orphan, YaTOM is the abbreviation for Yefeh Toar V'yefeh Mareh, meaning beautiful of form and countenance - a phrase used to describe Joseph (Gen. 39:6). We can see that Esther is similarly described (Esther 2:7) as Yefat Toar V'Tovat Mareh - again, spelling YaTOM. 

I think what we learn is that being orphaned at a young age is a traumatic experience, and can undoubtedly leave scars. At the same time, it can create a delicacy of feeling, an empathy to others, that may be the incubator for future leadership - provided the person can get past the psychological damage entailed.



 

Ruth and Esther: Written and Oral Law

In Ruth chapter 3, Naomi gives the young Moabite, newly entered into the community of Israel, some odd and even disturbing instructions. She is to wash and anoint herself, put on nice clothing, and go that night to where Boaz is winnowing barley in the threshing floor. After he has eaten and lain down, Ruth is to go, and uncover his feet, and lie down there. "He will tell you what to do," concludes Naomi.

For a young unmarried woman to be told to go at night and be alone with a strange man in a threshing floor - to lie at his feet- is not a simple matter. It certainly sounds like a seduction scene (whether it is or not, and what the meaning of it all is, has been discussed extensively).

But Ruth's response is not to question. In verse 5 she simply says:

All that you say to me I will do.

I'd like to make two points here:

Firstly, I believe that this is a case of everything in the world having a time and place. Ruth was of Moabite stock. Her past would have been a source of shame to her, as the Israelites were not lovers of Moabites. Nonetheless, it came in handy here. It kicked in to allow her to do something that would have been difficult and embarrassing for the average Israelite maiden.

The Moabite women were sent to seduce the Israelites and entice them to serve idolatry (Numbers 25). This was Ruth's genetic legacy, though she had moved far from it. She was able to draw upon her original people's ability to wield sexuality as a tool in order to make happen here what needed to happen. While not every Israelite maiden is a paragon of modesty, a typical Israelite maiden does not have a collective culture of sexual brazenness to draw upon. Israelites do not send their women to seduce their enemies.

Going even further back, Ruth drew upon the genetic legacy from her ancesstresses the daughters of Lot, who, thinking that the world had ended and it was up to them alone to propagate the human race, also needed to overcome their own inhibitions in order to sleep with theri father.

Thus, even a not very respectable trait came into its own in this situation.

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My second point is to note that Ruth's response 

All that you say to me I will do.

is very reminiscent of the phrase with which the Israelites accepted the Torah, naaseh venishmah, we will do and we will listen/obey. Unlike the nations of the world whom the midrash describes as asking "What is in it?" the Israelites, like Ruth, are willing to carry out instructions that might seem strange, even bizarre - and all because of their trust in, love for and devotion towards the giver of those instructions.

Indeed we read the book of Ruth on Shavuot, the festival of the receiving of the Torah. Very apt.

It can be suggested that Ruth represents the Written Law, which is what was given on Mt Sinai (along with, traditionally, the principles for the Oral Law).  She does exactly as Naomi instructs her. And yet, she also adds something when the situation calls for it. When Boaz asks (Ruth 3:9) "Who are you?" Ruth needs to make an answer. Naomi has not told her exactly word for word what to say; she has left it up to Ruth to navigate the situation.
Ruth replies:

I am Ruth your maidservant; spread your skirt over your maidservant; for you are next of kin.

These are her own words. She is taking the situation and interpreting it in the spirit of Naomi, just as the Oral law interprets the situation in the spirit of the Giver of the Written Law, as far as possible. Thus the Oral law begins. But it only comes to full fruition in the days of Esther.

The Talmud (Shabbat 88a) famously says that God held Mount Sinai over the heads of the Israelites and forced them to accept the Torah. Since this is not a very promising way to view our acceptance of the Torah - we could argue it is not legally binding - the Talmud then adds, "But they reaccepted it willingly in the days of Achashverosh."

Thus, Esther represents the full flowering of the Oral Law. And we indeed see Esther, once she makes a decision to do so, acting way beyond the letter of Mordechai's instructions; commanding that everyone fast for three days for her etc.  (Esther 4:16). This is not just a light addition - this is a full "taking the ball and running with it", applying the initial instruction and adding to it, filling out the details, based on appropriate reason and intuition.

This is the essence of the Oral Law, with principles that guide reason and intuition, to make things work in every new situation, as it demands.


* I thank Miriam Leah Gamliel and Judith Phillips, whose insights during a Bibliodrama on Ruth Chapter 3 form the basis for the blog.

Angry at Esther - God's Defender

I was discussing Megillat Esther with someone who expressed strong negative feelings that surprised me.

This person, a religious Jew who grew up in a rather different environment, every year becomes upset when he listens to the book of Esther being read, because there is no mention of God's name. He feels indignant, offended by the fact that Esther and Mordechai did not pray or give thanks to God for the miracles vouchsafed to them.

"The Torah makes it clear that it is always about God. We are to praise God and worship God," he protested. "What on earth is this?!?" He even suggested that we were punished with (longer) exile due to this egregious omission on the part of Esther and Mordechai. 

I found his defense of God moving, but of course I had my explanations at the ready. It's impossible that Esther and Mordechai omitted mention of God by accident, or due to any beliefs that the miracle of Purim came about accidentally/through human agency only. And the fact that the rabbis include the megillah and made Purim into a significant festival obviously validates Esther and Mordechai as people of faith.

But my conversational partner remained unconvinced and angry. This was the first time I had ever had such a conversation, and I must confess it came as quite a surprise. What I appreciated about it though was the absolute incomprehension of how you could have a religious text without God in it - no matter what the reason. 

I think since I've grown up with Esther for my entire life, I've always accepted the explanation that the book represents God's working in hidden ways. I find meaning in that message. Yet why should we accept that so easily - why indeed should there be a scroll in which God's name does not appear at all?

Yes, let us question that, let us be indignant for God's honour. Perhaps every year God awaits our zealousness for the divine name, to return it to centre stage. And perhaps every year, God sighs and shrugs upon seeing how facilely we accept the hiding of the divine. All of us, that is, except for my friend, who saves the day. Hmm.