Exodus. Daniel Berrigan

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Exodus - Daniel Berrigan

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      The contradiction will be damocleian sharp, and humiliating to boot. The thunders broke, and Yahweh spoke. One writes of this, but at second or third—or thousandth—remove. It is by no means guaranteed to the author that the thunders broke—on him; or that Yahweh spoke—to him.

      The commentator remains safely sequestered in words, words, like a cocoon dreaming of birth—or perhaps like an academic in the famous groves, dreaming of whatever such eminences dream of. Tenure? A crown of laurel?

      The text in sum, invites a woeful deconstruction of bombarding realities. So, one thinks ruefully, is the soul deconstructed in the act of writing—a task looked on (and so rightly) as the original artful dodge.

      ¶

      At least let the investigator keep a measure of good sense, walk humbly, conscious of ironies, hearing to his own discomfiture (and benefit), the sound of divine laughter.

      Intemperate mirth? It well may be. And this, knowing that the rollicking One, as far as is known, never wrote a word—indeed is known famously and obscurely (but tellingly to our purpose), as Pure Act.

      “I don’t know, I’m not sure” . . . the would-be equivalent of a confession. Confess it then; woe to the scrivener, perpetually outside the action.

      ¶

      exodus 1

      At the bravura of our narrator we are in awe, and rightly. His scope and bias are intact, even in conveying the mental confabulations and schemes of omnipotent pharaoh.

      ¶

      Much has been made of the identity of this notorious Egyptian regent. Was he Seti I or Meneptha or Rameses II? According to Exodus 12:40, the exile in Egypt lasted for 430 years. So we are face to face with a dynasty, or even with several of these.

      But the above details are ignored by our author. The pharaoh is presented as a stereotype, a stone face on a frieze, an automaton going about his wicked, fussy, ultimately bootless works and pomps.

      Before us is a particular, perhaps unique form of historical writing. Biased beyond doubt, it dwells compassionately on those left out of the imperial records, those of little or no account. In social upheaval and discomfiture of the mighty, “Those” become “These.”

      ¶

      What then of the ruler, the pharaoh? Let him be irretrievably put down. Let him be not so much as named or pointed out from (one might think) a succession of his likes—before, during, since.

      How the mighty are deflated before our eyes—and again and again how the lowly, the victims, are exalted! The names of two midwives, on whom depends all the future, are carefully recorded; shortly they will confound Pharaoh Anonymous I and his edicts.

      ¶

      To our author, the imperial one is an “emperor of ice cream.” A veritable sun god in the eyes of his votaries melts before our eyes, is reduced, all but dismissed, a type, a cliché.

      And in contrast, the invincible dignity, the saving arrogance of the underdog. We are being told, and this from the start of enforced bondage, that the mighty are in fact moral clones, their methods predictably awful. They make war. They are boundless in greed and appetite. They waste human lives in forced labor and the lash. Slaves, and a slave culture, is their perverse intent.

      ¶

      Patience. Wait and see. There are always “buts,” a buttressing counter weight pressing against awful events and their agents. The weight will fall and bring the mighty down.

      ¶

      “He who acquires a slave, acquires a master.”

      —Talmud

      ¶

      Problems arise, even for pharaohs—perhaps especially for such. Let them create a system judged impermeable against chance and fate. On the drawing board of counselors, planners, diplomats, generals, millionaires, the system has no seams, no cracks. It is huckstered and put in place.

      But . . . but—a question: how maintain that status quo, plausible, mighty as it stands?

      ¶

      Eccolo,3 all in secret—but perceived by wise slaves (indeed by them brought to pass!)—there comes a night of resolve, a sea change under the moon. Roles are slowly, ever so subtly reversed. There dawns on the slaves, the truth of their lives; we are in bondage.

      Then a second insight, equally valuable, equally dangerous; this woeful condition of ours need not be.

      And what of those invincibles, the masters, overseers, owners? Time passes, in the palace fear grows, and a dark uncertainty. Fear of the victims. A muttering is heard, by a few, then by many. The slaves forge a code language.

      ¶

      Action, reaction. To keep the multitudes in check, law and order must stiffen. Public “examples” must be created, spectacles of punishment, the taws descending, prisons, starvations, executions. Slaves, See and learn!

      Nothing avails.

      Then, on to a draconian “solution.” They breed like magpies, these slaves. Law must strike at the source, the wellspring of life. Kill the newly born.

      ¶

      In view of the above royal rake’s progress, from lesser crime to greater, why, asks our scribe, why identify by name this or that oppressor? Each is a stranger to wisdom or compassion. Each is unfit for rule.

      Who then shall be judged worthy of emulation and praise? The word of God looks elsewhere than the throne. To a coven of lowly Hebrew women. And we are instructed.

      ¶

      This affair of naming, misnaming, naming aright, withholding a name. A small matter on the face of it; but to the Bible, clearly of first import. The power is primordial; naming reality is the first task assigned the first human:

      When the Lord God had formed out of the ground all the beasts of the fields and the birds of the air, be brought them to the man to see what he would name them.

      For that which the man would call each of them would be its name.

      The man named all the cattle, all the birds of the air and all the beasts of the field . . .

      —Gen 2:19

      ¶

      The word of God names things aright. More: according to that word, those who are literate in the word, know that a like task is handed over. To ourselves.

      Let us (the scribes) be careful to name reality aright, honoring the instruction of Genesis.

      The exiled midwives are named. Thus their lives, the risks they enter on, the compassion of their hands—these are underscored. Note is taken, and honor paid a noble resistance.

      Pause then, pay tribute, as does the text. Salute their courage; courage too is commended to us. May they strengthen our resolve, as we too face the ‘law

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