Pushing and Pulling: The Life of Moshe

Exodus 2:10 tells us that Moshe's name means "He-Who-Pulls-Out." As we will see throughout the Exodus narrative, Moshe's life is indeed characterized by both pulling and pushing--literally and figuratively, physically and emotionally, internally and externally. Moshe is a reluctant hero of sorts, someone who goes back and forth between rescuing and wanting to be rescued. Like Yosef, he is a more fully developed and emotionally complex character. Thinking of Exodus 2-8, in what ways do you see this pushing-pulling metaphor guiding Moshe's transformation? How is he characterized by this idea of pushing-pulling, and how does it shape his own narrative as well as the narrative of the Hebrew people in the text?

Please post your response no later than Thursday, April 3, 10am.

Yehuda and Tamar

The story of Yehuda (one of Yosef's brothers) and Tamar in Genesis 38 seems out of place. The story appears smack dab in the middle of the Yosef narrative, which forces the reader to consider a new story before getting back to the one about Yosef. It's not even chronological--the story takes place many years later than the Yosef story. Given the nature of the story and its content, what do you make of its placement in the biblical text? Do you think there is a reason for this? What effect does it have, if any, on the way you read the Yosef story?

Please post your comment no later than Tuesday, March 25, 3pm.

"I Will Not Let You Go Unless You Bless Me"

In the Afterword to For the Love of God, Ostriker writes:

Meanwhile, we live in a world in crisis. Perhaps immersing ourselves in some of the wisest writing ever written will help us know ourselves and the world better. Let us not try to simplify reality. Let us not use our sacred texts as a security blanket or a blindfold, much less a weapon.

Ostriker is speaking about the ways in which we, in a contemporary era, use the bible. We all know that the bible, or at least so-called biblical values, have been used (or mis-used) throughout history to justify violent and unethical behaviors that, in and of themselves, violate one of the most important principles of the bible: namely, that we should love our neighbors. Consider, for example, the Crusades, the forced conversions (the only other choice being death) of Native Americans, the bombings of abortion clinics, etc.

However, what if this is not simply a phenomenon of the Common Era? I wonder whether it is possible to see the same phenomenon taking place in the very narratives of the bible. Characters in the biblical narrative were not reading the bible as we know it, in its canonical form, but they were "reading" its equivalent: hearing God speak directly or indirectly, hearing from God's messengers, seeing God in dreams and visions, hearing the stories of God in previous generations, oral transmission of God's commandments. Can you think of any instances in the bible where characters might be using "sacred texts," as Ostriker says, as "a security blanket or blindfold," or even a weapon?

You may refer to stories in Genesis or any other part of the bible, even if we haven't read it in class.

Please post your response no later than Saturday, March 8, 12pm.

No Place for Yitzhak?

As a character, Yitzhak emerges as much more one-dimensional than the other Patriarchs. After Genesis 22, we see less and less of him, and it is difficult even to identify what his personality is--despite the fact that he is one of the key players in the overall biblical narrative. In Genesis 26:24, we read:

And YHWH was seen by him on that night and said:
I am the God of Avraham your father.
Do not be afraid, for I am with you,
I will bless you and will make your seed many, for the sake of
Avraham my servant.

What, if anything, does this passage tell us about the nature of Yitzhak's relationship with/to God? How does God view Yitzhak? Feel free to refer to other passages as well in order to contextualize your answers.

Please post your response no later than Thursday, February 28, 4pm.

A Bizarre Love Triangle: Avraham, Sara, and Hagar

In Genesis 21, we find that the relationship between Sara and Hagar has become even more complicated than it was last time we encountered the two women. And, of course, the relationship between Avraham and Sarah, as well as Avraham and Hagar, is necessarily more complicated as well. It seems that we have here the beginnings of the first dysfunctional family--a family that will only get more and more dysfunctional as the generations progress.

But for this blog entry, I would like you to think about family dynamics, and respond to what you see happening between the two women or between Avraham and the women. If, indeed, the most dominant theme of the Hebrew bible is the notion of ethical responsibility, how does it figure into this story of a bizarre love triangle gone wrong?

Please post your response no later than 10:30am on Thursday, February 21.

Avram in Egypt

Genesis 12 is the beginning of what we call the Patriarchal Narratives. In Genesis 12:10-13, we read:

Now there was a famine in the land,
and Avram went down to Egypt, to sojourn there,
for the famine was heavy in the land.
It was when he came near to Egypt that he said to Sarai his wife: Now here, I know well that you are a woman fair to look at. It will be, when the Egyptians see you and say: She is his wife, that they will kill me, but you they will allow to live.
Pray say that you are my sister so that it may go well with me on your account, that I myself may live thanks to you.

What do you see happening here, in this portion of the text? Do you find this troublesome at all? If so, or if not, why?

Please post your response no later than 4pm on Thursday, January 31.

Turn It and Turn It

In the "Introduction" of For the Love of God, Ostriker reminds us of one of the sayings regarding the Hebrew bible: "Turn it and turn it, for everything is in it" (2). She also writes:

"The past is not dead," William Faulkner remarked in his Nobel Prize speech; "it is not even past." Scripture is deeply archaic and starkly contemporary, universalist and tribal, conservative and radical, personal and public, hotly physical and coolly metaphysical. It can and should yield nourishment to many different sorts of hunger. The Bible's irreducible excess, its contradictoriness, its multiplicity, make it dazzling and durable as literature; it might also be said that these qualities point toward the irreducible plenitude and unknowability of God (3).

I would like you to respond to this passage. You are welcome to refer also to other parts of the Ostriker introduction or to what we've read in Genesis so far as part of your response.

Please post your responses no later than Tuesday, January 29, 10pm.