When Pharaoh’s Heart Weighs More Than a Feather
Every time I visit Israel, I make sure to visit the Bible Lands Museum. There, they put Tanach into context by examining pesukim from Tanach in conjunction with history. The museum is filled with models, pottery shards, weapons and jewelry from the Biblical period. The walls are filled with informational plaques, integrating ancient Judaism into the global context.
I return each time I visit Israel because I always come away with something new. The Rambam in “The Guide for the Perplexed” (3:32) espoused that the Torah was written to respond to the time period of the people receiving it. For me to understand what the people of that time received, I need to know — what does that really look like?
On my first visit to the museum during my year in seminary, I found myself face-to-face with a huge stone carving of the Egyptian Weighing of the Heart Ceremony. This ceremony, appearing in the Egyptian “Book of the Dead,” features the heart of the deceased being weighed on a scale against the feather of Ma’at, the goddess of truth and justice. The heart was thought to be the receptacle where all emotions and memories reside, thereby encompassing the whole individual. If the heart came out heavier than the feather, then the person was damned to eternal destruction.
Understanding this gave me a sudden new understanding of the story of Exodus, wherein God hardens Pharaoh’s heart multiple times throughout the 10 plagues. When I was in elementary school, I learned that God hardened Pharaoh’s heart in order to prevent him from giving in and avoiding the punishments the Egyptians deserved. Looking at the Weighing of the Heart inspired a whole new interpretation of this feature of the Exodus story for me. Each time God hardened Pharaoh’s heart, he was making Pharaoh’s heart heavier than a feather. In refusing to let the Jews go, Pharaoh was damning himself to eternal destruction in his own theology. God made it so that even his soul could never come back to bring destruction to the Jews. This kind of approach reveals that Tanach is not only a religious text, but also a response to the cultural and intellectual world in which it was given.
Gleaning this new way to read the text changed my reading of the whole story. Suddenly, all of the times that Pharaoh’s heart is hardened are not only relevant to the Jewish story, but they also become relevant on a more secular scale. It also conveyed a message relevant to the Egyptians at the time. An Egyptian audience familiar with these beliefs would have understood the larger implications of what God did. The Jews familiar with Egyptian culture would read it and see that the God of the Hebrews outsmarted the ways of the gods of the Egyptians.
Relics from ancient history also provide insight into countless other Biblical texts. The museum also delves deep into Nevi’im and Ketuvim. Learning history can give insight into why the authors of those books included seemingly useless or ambiguous details.
This past winter break, I gave the museum another visit. This time, I decided to spend more time reading the plaques rather than looking at the artifacts. I had taken Nechama Price’s “Ambiguities in Tanach” class, and we had spent weeks discussing a single phrase in Navi. 1 Samuel 15:27 reads, “va-yisob Shmuel la-lekhet va-yahazeq bekenaf me'ilo va-yiqra,” which is usually translated to mean, “Shmuel turned to go, and he took hold of the corner of his garment and tore it.” We spent weeks trying to answer questions like who ripped whose coat and why they would do that, what part of the coat was ripped and how the whole scenario would have played out. One possible interpretation that we raised is that Shmuel grabbed Shaul’s lapel, shaking Shaul in an attempt to shake some sense into him, and the coat tore as a consequence of the fervor of his actions.
One of the plaques, called “The Fringe and the Tzitzith,” offered one explanation that we had thought of, but it also offered information behind an answer that was entirely new to me.
The plaque explained that in ancient legal texts, holding the hem or garments signified an attachment to a god. In our example, severing “bekenaf me'ilo,” which can be translated as “the hem of the garment,” signifies a severed relationship to God. Thus, the scene depicts a message from Shaul to Shmuel that he now has more power than Shmuel. The piece of the coat that signified the connection with God is torn off, showing that it is now Shaul’s turn to have the connection with God.
We constantly study Tanach as removed from history, as if it exists in a vacuum. When we read the Tanach alongside the cultures and modes of thought in which it was written, the stories in it gain a new meaning. Understanding Tanach in its historical context transforms it from a static text into a dynamic conversation with the world it was given in. It allows for more avenues of conversation and new historical insight. With each new interpretation, we are reminded that the Torah speaks not only to its original audience but continues to challenge and deepen our understanding today.
This way of learning Torah is very important, not only for deepening our understanding of the text, but for strengthening our connection to it. The next time you find yourself in Israel, consider visiting the museum and experiencing Tanach in its historical context. You may walk in thinking you know these stories, but leave with a perspective you hadn’t considered before; one that deepens your appreciation of the Torah and its enduring relevance.
Photo caption: The Fringe and the Tzitzith informational plaque
Photo credit: Talia Feldman
