Narrating Violence, Narrating Self

Previous articleNext article FreeNarrating Violence, Narrating Self: Exodus and Collective Identity in Early Rabbinic LiteratureKimberly B. StrattonKimberly B. StrattonCarleton University Search for more articles by this author PDFPDF PLUSFull Text Add to favoritesDownload CitationTrack CitationsPermissionsReprints Share onFacebookTwitterLinked InRedditEmailQR Code SectionsMoreIn his seminal book, Zakhor, Yoseph Yerushalmi writes: “Only in Israel and nowhere else is the injunction to remember felt as a religious imperative to an entire people. Its reverberations are everywhere, but they reach a crescendo in the Deuteronomic history and in the prophets.”1 Following this statement he lists several examples where the Bible commands Israel to remember. Strikingly, the injunction to remember most often revolves around an incidence of violence and victimization in Israel’s past: “Remember what Amalek did to you” (Deut. 25:17); “O my people, remember now what Balak king of Moab plotted against you” (Mic. 6:5); and, with what Yerushalmi describes as “a hammering insistence,” “Remember that you were a slave in Egypt.”2 The common element of violence and subjugation in Yerushalmi’s list does not occur coincidentally. Memories of trauma and narratives of violence and suffering constitute integral components in the formulation of collective identities. A group’s sense of cohesion (“we-ness”) derives most often from contrast and, often, conflict with another group, defined by their alterity (“them-ness”).3 Feelings of solidarity and shared behavior thus emerge often from a crucible of conflict; they are constructed out of the mutual understanding and common bond shared by those who experience suffering.4The strong connection between memory, violence, and the consolidation of collective identity has been insightfully explored by theorists going all the way back to Sigmund Freud, who posits a primal act of murder as the origin of religion, and specifically ties the memory (and repression) of it to the exodus story and birth of biblical monotheism.5 More recently, the collection of essays titled Religion, Violence, Memory, and Place, edited by Oren Baruch Stier and J. Shawn Landres, explores the relationship between memory, memorializing, and the construction of identities. Specifically, the essays in this book examine how memorializing trauma and violence in the past can cement collective identity for survivors and their offspring: “Often, acts of memory such as building monuments and holding memorial ceremonies arise from national and transnational commitments to honor and enshrine the memories of those who have come before. Such acts, conventionally understood, link past and future through the present.”6 Thus, recapitulating past suffering through story and performance inscribes a particular identity onto subsequent generations, making it real for them by enabling them to experience vicariously the traumatic events that fundamentally shaped their forebears. The process of memorializing traumatic events can also enable a community to redefine and reshape the meaning of the experience by embedding it within a narrative of hope, redemption, and transformation, as happens frequently with the exodus narrative in rabbinic writings. Through this process, however, the traumatic event can become sacralized—that is, it becomes paradoxically valorized by the community:7 rather than moving past the traumatic event, the community enshrines it as central to their identity. Suffering violence and trauma, thus, tends to have a profound and long lasting impact not only on victims who experienced it, but on subsequent generations who share the memory through its ritualized commemoration and narration.It is through this enshrining of past pain and trauma in narrative and ritual practice that violence comes to function as a quintessential aspect of many groups’ self-understanding: we are the people who survived this traumatic event, we experienced this cataclysmic persecution and survived. Integral to the story of the violence, therefore, is a complementary narrative of survival, resistance, and endurance. Nonetheless, that sense of victorious solidarity cannot emerge, cannot exist without the defining moment of violence that generated it. It is perhaps for this reason that violence figures centrally in so many foundation narratives, either as a memory of past victory or of self-defining defeat—with victory often miraculously following defeat and being legitimized by it.8 Such stories, repeatedly told and embodied through commemorative acts and ritual performances, contribute to constituting each individual within the collective narrative. As Anthony Paul Kerby argues: “the self is given content, is delineated and embodied, primarily in narrative constructions or stories.”9 The very sense of who we are and our role in life is framed for us at birth by the stories that we inherit from our communities.Narratives of violence in particular enable groups to draw boundaries between us and them, to understand themselves as essentially different and unique in some concrete way despite often shared language, customs, and even, sometimes, religious beliefs. As Thomas Sizgorich (z”l, may his memory be a blessing) argues in his 2008 book, Violence and Belief in Late Antiquity, “narratives which stress a ‘people’s’ history of victimization will help to produce identity groupings whose members must understand victimhood as one of the essential characteristics of all real members of the group, and indeed as a defining quality of the group itself.”10 Furthermore, Sizgorich points out that “rather than preventing the use of violence against members of other communities, some narratives of remembrance recalling dark moments of brutality and suffering visited upon the defenseless and innocent ... seem to have made it easier for some who imagine their place in the world in accordance with such stories adopt aggressive and even murderous postures with members of other communities.”11The story of the exodus constitutes one such narrative and has played a principal role in the formulation of Israelite identity. Since biblical times the exodus, in particular, has encapsulated Jewish experience as one of suffering and redemption, providing both meaning and hope during all subsequent persecutions and subjugations.12 The difficulty with Yerushalmi’s conception of the role of memory, however, especially as it pertains to the exodus, is that memory is fluid and constructed; it does not merely “preserve the past” for successive generations, or bear events, such as reception of the covenant at Mount Sinai “along the conduits of memory to those who were not there that day,” as Yerushalmi states.13 Rather, memory (both individual and collective) is constantly reconfigured to serve the needs of the present moment.14 For this reason, memory becomes a site of contest and conflict, as competing notions about the past, especially national origins, have huge implications for formulating collective identities in the present.15 “Recollection of the past is an active, constructive process, not a simple matter of retrieving information.”16This article examines the dynamics of the exodus story in shaping collective identity in early rabbinic literature (ca. 200–550 CE), which was redacted in the centuries following the second Jewish revolt against Rome and contains literary responses to that violent episode and the ensuing exile. Many rabbinic texts utilize the powerful and compelling exodus narrative to respond to pressing social and political situations of their day. Depictions of national suffering and divine recompense, in particular, give meaning to the brutal subjugation of Judea by Rome and provide an opportunity to indulge in fantasies of divine retribution safely projected onto a hapless Pharaoh and the Egyptian army. Furthermore, the appropriation and repurposing of traditional stories about ancient hostilities serve to foster collective unity and solidarity in the present: exodus becomes meaningful for late antique Jews because of how it functions for the communities telling the story, not because of what it teaches about the biblical past. Rabbinic midrashim (expansions and interpretations) of Exodus operate as resistance literature; they undermine the authority and hegemony of Rome through a hidden discourse of its demise. These narratives of divinely mandated violence thus serve a dual purpose—providing meaning in the wake of disaster and hope for vindication in the face of bitter oppression—but also foster national cohesion and solidarity against dispersion and assimilation.17Origin of the Exodus TraditionIt is ironic that despite the central importance of exodus in the biblical narrative, material evidence indicates that the story of an enslaved people, fleeing Egypt through divine intervention and conquering the inhabited cities of Canaan to establish their own nation, has little to no support archaeologically.18 Rather, it appears that ancient Israelites were Canaanites, who adopted the worship of YHWH and developed a distinctive ideology and identity founded upon aniconic monotheism.19 Yet, the story of the exodus assumes primary importance for Jewish/Judean self-understanding, both within the biblical canon, and subsequently, in post-exilic, Hellenistic, and rabbinic writings. A pressing question arises: Why and how did a quasi-fictional story of national enslavement and liberation become so central to this ancient people’s self conception? It provided a foundation narrative, reinforced through ritual and performance, that explained their special relationship to YHWH and justified the singular devotion he demanded, distinguishing Jews from their neighbors forever after.References to the exodus story appear in every stratum of the Hebrew Bible (from the Pentateuch to Prophets and Psalms),20 yet there is some evidence that it did not always function as the cardinal national narrative. While it comprises the central foundational event in the Deuteronomic History, the author of Chronicles fails to mention it at all, and other national narratives, such as the David-Zion myth, competed in importance throughout the biblical era.21 It appears that exodus functioned as the foundation myth of the Northern kingdom long before it gained importance in Judah.22 During the Babylonian exile, with the rewriting/consolidating of Israelite history and tradition under the Deuteronomic and Priestly redactors, exodus became firmly entrenched in the collective psyche: it was identified as the origin of the nation, the source of divine law, and model of divine redemption.23In the post-exilic period, exodus continued to play an important role in the formulation of Judean self identity.24 For Jews in the Diaspora the exodus story figured prominently in defining their identity vis-à-vis their gentile neighbors; it explained their national origins and religious differences through a powerful narrative about fortitude and divine selection.25 Often it was enlisted to demonstrate Jewish virtue in ways commensurate with gentile values, thereby concretizing Jewish belonging rather than Jewish distinction.26During the Roman period, the exodus narrative and Passover carried special significance for national identity: the festival of Passover often provided a flash point for political insurrection during the period leading up to and culminating in the destruction of the temple.27 While Jewish pilgrimage festivals in general created opportunities for violent conflict among Jews as well as between Jews and Romans—as different groups contended over competing views of how Judaism ought to be28—the narrative of divine liberation from Egypt seems to have galvanized hope for a second redemption, this time from Rome. Sources indicate that joyous celebration, feasting, and praising God for liberation from Egypt characterized the holiday during the Second Temple period.29 Observance of this festival, thus, performed powerful memory work by inscribing the experience of the exodus in the body of participants through prayer, drink, and food, making the oppression and liberation tangible. This type of memorializing, however, as Sizgorich points out, can fuel further outbreaks of conflict and aggression, which appears to be the case according to Josephus. He links Passover, insurrection, and rebellion against Rome in the outbreak of the Jewish war (Ant. 14.21; J.W. 2.10; Ant. 17.213). Passover and the exodus story, thus, may have contributed to precipitating the devastating rebellion.30 If so, this demonstrates both the story’s power to make meaning out of oppression as well as to translate hope of divine intervention into armed rebellion, perpetuating cycles of violence as fuel for collective memory making.Exodus in Early Rabbinic LiteratureFollowing the failed revolts against Rome in 66–70 CE and 132–35 CE, that resulted in the military suppression of Judea, banning of Jewish religious practices, and exile of Jews from Judea (renamed now Syria Palestina),31 exodus was again enlisted to think about suffering and redemption—this time vis-à-vis Rome. Early rabbinic sages employ the exodus story to frame the catastrophic events, console the people, and sometimes to question God. The following baraita (tannaitic statement, dating to before 216 CE) reveals tension between anger at God for failing to save the people and a desire to continue believing in divine intervention:It was taught ( תניא ): Rabbi Eliezer son of Rabbi Yosi said: one time I went to Alexandria in Egypt; I found one old man, and he said to me: come and I will show you what my fathers did to your fathers: some of them they drowned in the sea; some of them they killed with a sword; some of them they crushed in a building. And because of this Moses our rabbi was punished, as it is said “Since I came to Pharaoh to speak in your name, he has done evil to this people” (Exod. 5:23). The Holy One, blessed be he, said to him: “Alas for those who are lost but not forgotten!” Behold, how many times did I reveal myself to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob as El Shadai, and they did not criticize my integrity ( ולא הרהרו על מדותי ), nor did they say to me “what is your name?”32This passage continues to recount the patriarchs’ unwavering faith despite often protracted delays in fulfilling God’s promises to them. God then castigates Moses for incredulity and impatience: “But you said to me ‘what is your name?’ at the very start and now you say to me ‘You have done nothing to rescue your people’ (Exod. 5:23). Now you will see what I will do to Pharaoh; the war against Pharaoh you will see, but you shall not see the war against the thirty-one kings” (b. Sanh. 111a). God punishes Moses for incredulity by preventing him from witnessing the conquest of Judea and fulfillment of the divine promises to the patriarchs.While the old man mentioned in this passage appears to recount events of the exodus (indicated by references to drowning and Moses), the other forms of aggression—killing with a sword and crushing in a building—deviate from the biblical story and likely recall more recent violence witnessed in the aftermath of revolts by Jews in Egypt, Cyrenaica, and Cyprus (115–17 CE) and in Judea (132–35 CE).33 Mireille Hadas-Lebel argues that the liturgical reading of Lamentations on the ninth of Av permits hatred of Rome to be projected onto biblical Babylon.34 I suggest that Egypt functions similarly here: ancient oppression by Egypt provides a model for thinking through and dealing with more recent atrocities under Roman rule.35 Conflict studies reveal that groups will often project hostility for one enemy onto another when expedient to do so, and this appears to be happening in rabbinic exegeses of Exodus.36The fact that it is a gentile, in particular, who draws attention to Israel’s subjugation hints at the shame experienced in the wake of revolts against Rome. Following the conquest of Jerusalem and destruction of the Temple, Titus celebrated a triumph that involved parading the sacred cultic utensils from the Temple through the streets of Rome (including the famous menorah and showbread table depicted on the celebratory arch of Titus) and publicly executing captured slaves as imperial propaganda in arenas throughout the Roman Mediterranean.37 Josephus, who claims to have been an eye witness to the events, vividly conveys the humiliation, degradation, and intimidation of these spectacles of power.38 The Babylonian Talmud also records Titus’s triumph in an anonymous aggadah (fictional narrative, folklore). According to the Bavli’s version of history, Titus defiled the by with a the Holy of on a then he the sacred utensils from the Temple and them to Rome to his triumph God him by a into his where it at his for he This story God as the and Titus as his even it a memory of the violence and shame experienced by the story does not mention the destruction as this the or to in our that God has not his people but them to be as a of God’s to in the Roman when and violent suppression continued with no liberation despite other of God as in the second or as in the biblical God’s that Moses this but God that divine intervention often but he also that he will make war on that the exodus story for the we are to on faith that God will Judea from Roman even seems to be a long time tension between the of the passage and its points to the in rabbinic exegeses of Exodus at this the one such as this one reveal and of texts for meaning in national suffering or present God’s as The that suffering for can be in the following The God the to is man that you remember him and the son of man that you for God commands Moses to the question and Moses with another which you what is in the your who you out of the of Egypt (Exod. He said to them you to Egypt; were you enslaved to Why do you think the be This passage other for the to but suffering and enslavement in Egypt as the that of God’s most important Since of also Israel from other Israel’s identity and origin emerge, according to this from the crucible of pain and oppression experienced in our attention to another passage that links suffering with the exodus and reception of the but in this one suffering is not given meaning as as God’s will the of God Moses a of Rabbi in the on the to his Moses by the of and God to see the for his God being in the following his by the said to of the this this He said to is how I my in this story a rabbinic to God’s to in the Roman war and Israel with as he did in the The that God’s will may suffering and that he is God will not reveal that “the of events thus has no and cannot be as a to God or God’s this of suffering as of the divine provides a meaningful to the by exile, and It also inscribes suffering as of the identity and collective unity and cohesion in the face of and exile. I will more in the following how stories of conflict and violence social boundaries and collective claims that God in and Israel’s The Babylonian Talmud records a baraita to Rabbi that that the Israel into exile, in Egypt, then in and will be with Israel in the future as well the with Israel into this passage suffering more it is and not a of or by different version of this in the of Rabbi on Exodus which describes to the all the of Israel Egypt; the the the to the so you that every time Israel is the as it is enslaved with them. ... And it also all their He was This passage continues the from as support to demonstrate that each time Israel went into exile the them, suffering with it were Israel said to you have you that in every place where Israel was the as it went into exile with them. they were in Egypt, the went into exile with them, as it is said: myself to the of your fathers when they were in they were to went into exile with them, as it is said: your I to they were to the went into exile with them, as it is said: will my in they were to the went into exile with them, as it is said: is this that comes from And when they in the the as it will with them, as it is said: the your God will your (Deut. and more developed version lists the exile before the future liberation as have long been as for Rome in rabbinic we see that Exodus provides not only the opportunity to suffering and divine in it, but as a model for all and most the one sages experienced and of The fact that God’s is said to in Israel’s suffering the of and many people must have It provides meaning and divine the as a of making the pain not only but for in this is an that vindication will come but the from or even liberation to the present moment as divinely and A different version of this to Rabbi as in the Babylonian appears in the Jerusalem Talmud where the of exile are Egypt, and Rome that the comes to demonstrate that God is in and that will Israel is to do it this passage may to the of sacred from the Jerusalem Temple and their in the Temple of in which was by to victory over that following the which to be not only catastrophic for the but for the rabbinic different to the and to a of and during the to a future to about political liberation by it. Early rabbinic for contains references that exodus with this future redemption, the story’s power to hope despite and recall the exodus from Egypt the at Rabbi I about and I have been you of the exodus from Egypt at explained As it that you may remember the you came out of Egypt all the of your life (Deut. of your the the of your the sages of your this the of your the of the this anonymous sages link the exodus from Egypt during the of the with the most often as also only does the exodus during the those of God’s intervention and provide a for future hope and but it may even help about the with the memory, memorializing, and collective appear The future life and of the community very on memorializing past and Rabbi also records this but it up with a by that in the Israel shall no remember the exodus from Egypt, as it is said: the are the they will no as the who up the of Israel from the of Egypt, but as the who up Israel from the Rabbi to by a different from one who up and the one who ... teaches that they will remember the exodus from Egypt in the future to This statement of exodus as and its for the and for the and Babylonian Talmud a different version of the said to them, the you recall the exodus from Egypt during the of the it not been said: the are the they will no as the who up the of Israel from the of Egypt, but as the who up and the of the of Israel from the from all the into which I to him: this does not the exodus from Egypt, but rather that exodus will be to the from the is exodus is shall no be but Israel shall be your This does not the Jacob from rather Jacob is to Israel is the Jacob is this the that in the exodus will no be primary for defining the relationship between God and his people but will be by the memory of subsequent The sages respond by the role of Exodus as the and the face of from however, they that it will become important as other more recent its place in the memory of the This version of the which Rabbi cardinal role in defining Israel’s

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