A new ruler rises over the land

The Torah portion Shemot is read on Shabbat, January 21

By JOSHUA KULP
Art by Pepe Fainberg (photo credit: PEPE FAINBERG)
Art by Pepe Fainberg
(photo credit: PEPE FAINBERG)
A NEW ruler rises over the land, one who wishes to make a radical break with the old regime. His first move is to foster fear of resident aliens, forgetting the benefits they had already brought to his country. These foreigners among us might increase in number and in a coming war join our enemies.
“Let us deal wisely with them,” he cries out.
The fanned flames of xenophobia lead to enforced labor, slavery, genocide, war and destruction.
The reader of these lines surely knows that they refer directly to the new ruler of Egypt who does not know Joseph and who sows suspicion of the Israelites among his subjects. The reader also surely knows that I have phrased these words in a vague manner so as to allude to the new government set to take power in the United States on Friday, one day before this story is read in synagogues throughout the world. Certainly one of the major forces that lead to the election of Donald Trump was a fear of immigrants, particularly Muslims. The cry “lest they join our enemies” echoes the suspicion that citizens of Western nations have of Muslim refugees coming from war-torn Syria, Iraq and elsewhere in the Middle East.
Pharaoh’s story has already been written: we know it ended in the destruction of his own land. His people suffered ten plagues, the firstborn of every family was killed, and his forces were drowned in the sea. Although we rejoice with the freed Israelites, Jews to this day are told not to celebrate the downfall of their enemies.
But the story of President Donald Trump and his wise men begins this very week. My comparison between the ancient Egyptian regime and the current leaders in Washington and those who think like them throughout the world is not meant to stamp Donald Trump as a new Pharaoh. Americans and citizens of European countries surely do not wish to see ancient history repeat itself. As such, we have a duty to mine our history and our texts for clues as to what we may do to prevent suffering the disaster wrought upon ancient Egypt.
The verse, “And a new king arose over Egypt” sparked a famous debate among commentators. Rav and Shmuel, two sages of ancient Babylon, differ over whether a new king arose, or whether the verse alludes to the same king whose decrees had simply changed. The great medieval commentator Rashi adopts the latter view, and on the continuation of the verse “who did not know Joseph” writes, “He [Pharaoh] made himself as if he did not know.”
The act of erasing the past can be, as it is in this case, an excuse for violence and hatred. A nation forgets the good others have done for them; a people forgets its own humble origins. Forgetting the past allows the regime to act based on a future that it can paint any way it so desires. And the uncharted future can always be construed to be far worse than the present or past.
Forgetting the past does not, as the cliché goes, merely portend its repetition. It allows policy shapers and public opinion makers to become fearmongers for an ever more ominous future.
But forgetting the past can also be a force for good. In Mishnah Yadayim 4:4, an Ammonite convert by the name of Judah comes in front of the sages asking if he is allowed to marry a Jewish woman. Rabban Gamaliel quotes what seems to be the relevant verse, “An Ammonite or Moabite may not come into the congregation of Israel [interpreted by the rabbis to mean, marry a Jew] for ten generations” (Deut. 23:4). Judah’s past, Rabban Gamaliel proclaims, cannot be forgotten. Judah himself is certainly not personally culpable for the sins of his ancestors who did not provide food and water for the Israelites on their journey from Egypt. But their sins are part of Judah’s genetic makeup and identity. His past is his destiny.
Remarkably, however, Rabbi Joshua rejects Rabban Gamaliel, and declares that today, no one’s identity is determined by the past. The world has changed, Rabbi Joshua boldly asserts, and neither we, nor any other people in the world, can be strictly identified by their purported origins.
The new rulers rising over the United States should remember the dual meaning of remembering and forgetting the past. They should follow the example of Rabbi Joshua, whose ruling leads to marriage and joy, and not that of Pharaoh, whose xenophobic decrees lead to the destruction of his own people. When the past is forgotten in order to foster hatred, injustice, expulsion and hardship, it will boomerang in the face of the forgetters. But when it is forgotten in order to allow the suffering and downtrodden a new chance at life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, it can lead to an opportunity for the greatest security, justice and prosperity the world has ever known. The choice lies before us.
Joshua Kulp is the Rosh Yeshiva at the Conservative Yeshiva and author of ‘The Schechter Haggadah’ and ‘Reconstructing the Talmud’