The Exodus story is, arguably, the greatest story ever told. The story begins in a vacuum — the strong relationship formed between Joseph and his Egyptian counterparts has disappeared. Fear of the other abounds and as the Israelites become more numerous, we see the usual reaction of subjugation and persecution.  

The story ends in victory with the underdogs, the Israelites, managing to escape and the rest, as they say, is history.

Yet, one of the most beautiful things about our sacred text is that it is not meant to be read as a history book. As our rabbis said, Torah has no beginning and no end. 

Rashi, our medieval French commentator, asks the pertinent question: why does Torah begin with the creation story and not with the first law, which is found much later in Exodus 12? This question points to the unique nature of the Torah, as highlighted in Robert Cover’s foundational article, Nomos and Narrative. He holds the Torah up as an exemplar for legal systems across the world. 

For, in the Torah, both law and story – halachah and aggadah – are deeply intertwined, as the Hebrew and Yiddish writer Hayyim Bialik stated, “Aggadah is the content of halachah.” Law can only be understood through our everyday experiences and the messiness that it is to be human and be in relation to others.  

We see, for example, the rule that the firstborn should inherit his father’s wealth (Deuteronomy 21:17) but then story after story in the Torah shows the second born taking the inheritance — Cain and Abel, Ishmael and Isaac, Jacob and Esau, and Joseph and his brothers. We view law through the human experience. By so doing, we recognise the power of our stories to impact on how we live.  

We also know that these stories are timeless in nature. We see the Exodus story effect change across generations and time. Martin Luther King famously used the Exodus story as part of the civil rights movement. The anti-apartheid movement used this foundational narrative of overcoming oppression to provide hope and strength in their fight.  

Stories define both who we are and who we want to be. With power comes responsibility and it for all of us to choose which stories we tell and which we choose to mark.