Judaism’s origin story is an enduring interest of mine, and something which compelled me to become observant a few years ago. My thinking on it continues to evolve, and I’d love to put all my thoughts in a book one day – pending further evolution and concrete research. Which probably involves significantly bettering my Hebrew, and picking up both Ugaritic and hieratic script. Which, hello, I will not have time to do within the next two decades. But still.
Whenever I read other theories on Judaism’s origins, they tend to frustrate me in one of two ways: they’re either too literal, trying to find a way to make the Torah entirely historically accurate, or they’re too dismissive, relying solely on the contradictory archaeological record to completely invalidate the Torah as an historical account of the Jews in Egypt. This hyperfocus on whether or not the events in Exodus actually happened in history or prehistory overlooks probably the most important why question about Judaism: Why was it so important for the authors of the Torah to establish a link between the Hebrews and Egypt?
To answer this question, we first need to consider what function the books of Genesis and Exodus serve in the Torah’s narrative. Moreso than the following four books, Genesis rehashes several stories common in Mesopotamia from at least the Neolithic onwards. The most notable example of this is the Flood, a version of which can be found in both Sumerian and Babylonian literature, and indeed Noah’s name may be an abbreviation of the name of the Flood’s protagonist from the Epic of Gilgamesh, Utnapishtim. If Genesis is viewed as a way of situating the other four books of the Torah into existing Mesopotamian cultural narratives, then a few interesting things emerge.
First of all, we have the figure of Abraham, who depending on how one interprets the Hebrew for ‘Ur of the Chaldees’ (Ur Kashdim) hails either from Ur in Sumeria, or from Urkesh in Syria. Both places are potential signposts for cultural influence upon the early Hebrews, although I personally prefer Urkesh as an origin because that then points to Hurrian influence, which already incorporates extensive Sumerian influence. Hurrian influence is further signposted in the story of Jacob, who returns to the environs of Harran from Canaan to seek a bride. Harran is also located in Upper Mesopotamia, within an area of Hurrian settlement.
Hurrian influence is particularly interesting here, for a few reasons. Firstly, the Hurrian god Kumarbi is syncretised both with chief Canaanite deity El, and with Cronus/Saturn – indeed, the Greek myth of the castration of Uranus is thought to derive from a Hurrian myth wherein Kumarbi castrates sky-god Anu (note the crossover with Sumerian religion here) and is then defeated by his own son Teshub. Here, then, is the clearest vector we have which demonstrates Saturnine influence upon the Jewish deity.
Returning to Sumerian influence on Hurrian religion, the Hurrians also worshipped Enki, god of water, under the later name Ea. Ea was also syncretised with El, and potentially provides a source for the theonym Yah. (I know I said I thought Yah was syncretised with Thoth through the lunar god Iah-Djehuty, but Ea/Yah syncretism has more evidence through the Hurrian vector. Having said that, Enki, like both Thoth and Hermes, is also considered the god of magic, and is also represented by the planet Mercury, so if I could just bloody well learn some Ugaritic…)
Additionally, diplomatic correspondence between New Kingdom Egypt and the kings of both Canaan and Amurru, a Hurrian kingdom, is evidenced within the Amarna letters. This establishes longstanding cultural links between the Hurrians and Egyptians, running through Canaan, in addition to the older links between the Hurrians and Sumerians.
Which brings us to Joseph, another particularly interesting character within Genesis and the first of the Hebrews to supposedly reside in Egypt, albeit initially as a slave. Many have already noted that Joseph’s role as chief advisor to Pharaoh, and the building projects attributed to him in Genesis, bear parallels with the historical and legendary personage of Imhotep, chief advisor to Djoser and probably the inventor of concrete, which in ancient times was enough of a Big Deal to get you deified post-mortem.
Unfortunately, the debate around Joseph-as-Imhotep centres around whether an historical Joseph actually was the historical Imhotep, with wild-eyed literalist evangelicals butting heads with sober nay-saying archaeologists. Guys, this is a profoundly stupid way to study the Torah. Instead, ask yourself: why does Genesis contain the story of a personage which clearly parallels that of a well-known Egyptian cultic figure?
And make no mistake about it, Imhotep was a Big Deal throughout the Near East, particularly by the mid-2nd millennium BCE when the Amarna letters were being exchanged between the Egyptians and the Hurrians. He invented concrete and probably designed Djoser’s pyramid! And somewhere along the way there, he also became equated with Asclepius and became known as a great healer. By the mid-2nd millennium BCE, he was venerated as a god.
And who were the two tutelary gods with whom he was associated and syncretised? Why yes, that would be Ptah and Thoth. The same Ptah which was syncretised with El in Canaanite worship documented on the Sinai Peninsula, and the same Thoth which may have been syncretised with Enki/Ea.
So where does this put us with Exodus? Well, we have a whole book preceding which establishes a Hebrew lineage for an Egyptian cult. And then we have a whole book consisting of ‘bringing’ this lineage back into Canaan and ‘establishing’ foundational practices which I am very willing to bet were already documented somewhere within Ptah, Thoth, or Imhotep’s cultic rites, if I could just read the hieroglyphs…
Something to chew on during your Pesach seders this weekend and next week, whilst you eat a sandwich of unleavened bread, a medicinal herb known to New Kingdom Egyptians, and symbolic concrete.
Sonya Blanck writings 