The British Museum’s collection of Egyptian artifacts is second only to the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. With this magnificent display as his background, Rabbi Arye Forta tells the story of our ancestors who lived in Mitzrayim

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ishpacha’s Tanach Tour at the Egyptology department in London’s British Museum takes place early on a recent Sunday morning. The labyrinthine quarters are alive with activity; we literally have to elbow our way through the throngs of visitors to keep up with our punctilious tour guide, Rabbi Arye Forta, who forges forward at a breathless pace. We weave our way between ancient mummies, busts, and statues, distracted en route by a blur of fascinating exhibits. We are only halted from time to time by our guide’s constant reminder that we not give in to curiosity and bend down to examine the inscriptions: some of the artifacts may be avodah zarah.

Unsuspecting visitors bearing backpacks and SLRs latch on to our private group, assuming our articulate guide comes with the price of admission. Impeccably mannered, Rabbi Forta doesn’t dismiss the newcomers but seamlessly glides into his tried-and-tested tactic: injecting more Hebrew and Yiddish terminology. It takes less than a minute for the interlopers to edge away, appearing apologetic as they disappear discreetly into the crowd without looking back.

Deciphering the Past

British-born Rabbi Arye Forta has been giving his Tanach Tour for more than seven years and with Pesach approaching, the timing of our tour couldn’t be more appropriate. Of course, we won’t be able to see all the 100,000 objects relating to ancient Egypt, let alone the other seven million objects the museum owns. Only 5 percent of the collection is on display in the public galleries; the remainder is kept under lock and key, with the organic remains under strictly controlled temperature and humidity conditions.

Yet there is still plenty to see during our visit to the museum’s Egyptian galleries, whose prized possession is the Rosetta Stone, a second-century BCE stele that helped the world decipher Egyptian hieroglyphics. And Rabbi Forta — who has taught Biblical Hebrew, Tanach, and ancient Jewish history during a career that spans more than five decades — is a natural storyteller whose enthusiasm for the tour’s topic shows. But how did he make the leap from Tanach and Jewish history to becoming an expert in ancient Egyptian history as well?

“Early on in my teaching career, I realized that our ancestors, whose lives are portrayed in the Tanach, didn’t live in a hermetically sealed bubble,” he comments. “They interacted with the people around them, whether it was the Canaanites, Philistines, Egyptians, Syrians, Persians, or Babylonians. In order to get a better grasp of what went on, I figured I’d have to acquire some basic knowledge of those cultures.” Gradually, he built up that knowledge, soaking up history books, reading whatever he could and befriending the curators at the British Museum, who eventually gave him limited access to their subterranean storerooms, which run beneath almost the entire museum.

Using the ancient exhibits to bring Jewish history to life has enabled Rabbi Forta to fulfill his passion for researching and disseminating that history.

“Though my tours happen to do that, I am not actually seeking to bring the parshah or Nach to life,” he is quick to clarify. “What I principally set out to achieve through my tours is to strengthen people in their emunah.

“Modern society is very secular. A hundred years ago in England, one in three attended church on Sunday. Today, the churches are empty. Even the shuls, apart from those in the larger Jewish communities, are abandoned. People live without G-d in any form and, frighteningly, the world seems to get along quite well that way. Through my tours, participants view tangible exhibits and discover that those humbling stories and awesome Divine miracles are not merely chapters from dusty bibles, they really happened.”

For instance, the museum owns a detailed carving commissioned by Achashveirosh that shows him extending a sceptre to visitors, as told in Megillas Esther. The museum also holds in its collection the sceptre of an Egyptian magician in the shape of a snake, just like the ones described in the stories of Aharon and Moshe.

Archaeology and the Torah

“Isn’t the knowledge in the Torah enough for us?” I venture.

“The Torah is not a history book,” Rabbi Forta explains. “Its purpose is to teach us not history, but how to live as Jews, and therefore does not provide extra historical details. For that, one needs to research.”

To that end, he still confines his tour program to exhibits that are relevant to the Tanach, but as an avid historian, Rabbi Forta filled the gaps for himself by researching history and archaeology, a process that has hugely illuminated his knowledge of Tanach.

One revelation he came across was the verification of the long-disputed length of an amah. He read L’acropole de Suse, a book written by Marcel Dieulafoy, a French archaeologist, who in 1859 journaled his excavations in Shushan, where he came across a room in the subterranean palace remains that were full of weights and measures. They had been standardized by King Darius I (son of Achashveirosh and Esther, according to most meforshim), who commissioned the rebuilding of the second Beis Hamikdash. One particular find, a black basalt stone — which, unlike metal, doesn’t expand even minutely with either heat or cold — was inscribed with “an amah of the king.” The Frenchman recorded, “It measured exactly 18 English inches.”

“Building projects had to conform strictly to Persian standards,” Rabbi Forta notes. “Otherwise, the king would have halted the work. So we learn that the Beis Hamikdash was built using an amah of 18 inches.” (Note: This is almost identical to the opinion of Rav Avraham Chaim Na’eh. However, the Chazon Ish follows the Noda B’Yehuda’s opinion that the amah is almost 24 inches.)

Archaeology has brought to light a wealth of information without which, claims Rabbi Forta, we wouldn’t have the complete picture. He is often irked by illustrations in children’s books on the parshah or Haggadah where illustrators or authors don’t bother to research information that’s all there at the touch of a Google search. His pet peeve? The typical parshah scene of the Israelites laboring over bricks and mortar in Mitzrayim, building the pyramids. “It always features whip-brandishing Egyptians. Whips were used by chariot drivers. The Egyptians hit with big, mighty sticks, while building cities, not pyramids, as the carvings of that period illustrate.”

People often ask Rabbi Forta if he comes across findings in archaeology that contradict the Torah. “The answer is yes, I do. But that never throws me off because in archaeology nothing is ever final. You can have beliefs that historians have been holding for decades instantly reduced to a speck of dust by an archaeologist’s new discovery.”

He uses an exhibit in the Israel Museum as a prime example. For centuries, secular historians claimed that Dovid Hamelech couldn’t have existed because he was only mentioned in Nach and nowhere else. But while Israeli archaeologist Avraham Biran was excavating near the borders of Lebanon and Syria, he uncovered a monument set up by an Aramean king, with Aramaic inscriptions clearly describing his wars against Beis Dovid.

“In a stroke, all those history books were rebuffed,” comments Rabbi Forta. He adds that today the monument holds pride of place in the Israel Museum, with the letters Beis Dovid boldly chalked in, so no one can refute them.

Those who visit London can contact Rabbi Forta for a private tour. Herewith, our virtual tour of ancient Egypt.

The Tanach Tour

“Mei’az hayesa l’goy” (Shemos 9:24) This pasuk refers to when two nations joined to become known as Mitzrayim. Meitzar means border; the land Mitzrayim was the merging of the northern and southern countries into one, hence the plural form of the word. It is located in the area where southern Egypt is today.

The North and South were sometimes depicted on the Pharaohs’ crowns in bands of different colors, red or white.

Similarly, different symbols representing the two demographics were etched into the statues of their Pharaohs: a snake represented the South and a vulture the North. Some of the statues featured both symbols.

“Mi Elokim asher eshma b’kolo?” (Shemos 5:2)
The Torah expounds on the fanatic connection the Pharaohs had to their numerous gods. In fact, the average Egyptian served so many gods, he couldn’t keep count. Rashi notes that the Pharaoh who reigned in the days of Moshe Rabbeinu boasted about his many gods, keeping a record of their names in a book. When Moshe brought him Hashem’s command to let His people go, he answered “Mi Elokim asher eshma b’kolo — who is this G-d that I should heed His voice?”

“Mishchu u’kechu lachem” (Bo 12:21)
Some of the Pharaoh statues we saw featured an engraved ox tail between their legs, hinting at one of their gods. A key avodah zarah they served was the aforementioned serpent and vulture, but the undisputed most-sanctified gods were the ram and sun.

This explains why the Jews were told to tie a lamb, of all animals, to the bedpost and then use it for the Korban Pesach. Seeing their holiest god being carried away for slaughter by their slaves-turned-victors enraged the Egyptians to no end. But after all the makkos, they were powerless.

A statue of Pharaoh seated between the feet of a mammoth ram demonstrated that even the powerful king was subservient to the ram god. The king’s figure could be swallowed whole in relation to the overbearing animal, which the Pharaohs officially considered their protection.

The many Egyptian engravings and depictions on display, dictated and designed by the Pharaohs, mostly revolved around the many gods they served. In these, the haughty Pharaohs flaunted success and feigned victory, while boasting about meetings they hosted with their gods. They never admitted defeat or disaster, even though there were plenty.

“Vayasem revid hazahav al tzavaro” (Bereishis 41:42)

Pharaoh Amenhotep III’s dates seem to correspond to Yosef Hatzaddik’s era in Mitzrayim. Rabbi Forta points out that none of the Pharaoh statues are wearing rings on their fingers; instead they are wearing an extravagant collar, which must have been the lavish imperial accessory at the time. Indeed, the Torah mentions that Yosef received a golden collar with semiprecious stones from Pharaoh. This was in return for a 14-year contract where Yosef was appointed mishneh l’melech to oversee the seven years of plenty and the subsequent years of hunger.

The ancient engravings tell us that internment in prison was not used as punishment in Mitzrayim; it was rather used merely as a holding area until trial. That makes us wonder: why was Yosef in prison?

Rabbi Forta explains that Potifar knew his wife had concocted her allegations against Yosef. He therefore used all of his influence to make sure Yosef didn’t receive his trial. Hence, Yosef sat in the “waiting room” for several years until he was recalled by Pharaoh, who was in need of his prowess.

Although only a holding area, an Egyptian jail was not a place one wished upon even one’s worst enemy. Punishments were brutal in the totalitarian-style country; guilty prisoners would typically have their nose or ears severed, but never their hands or feet, so when freed, they could still contribute to society.

“Havah nischakmah lo” (Shemos 1:10)

In an interesting twist to the story of Yetzias Mitzrayim, history reveals that after Yosef’s reign the Egyptian empire crumbled. The succeeding Pharaoh closed many temples and abolished most of the avodah zarah, keeping only the sun god — which led to increased unemployment. During the next two reigns, the Pharaohs reinstated the temples, but did little else to improve the general state of the economy.

To put it in perspective, before the biggest temple in Egypt was shuttered, it employed 81,000 people. Imagine the catastrophic job losses after hundreds or even thousands of such temples were closed down. (In theory, this process of abolishing their gods may likely have been a direct or indirect result of Yosef’s influence in Egypt. Rashi states that Egyptians asking for food during the famine were commanded by Yosef to have a bris milah — with Pharaoh’s consent.)

Moreover, struggling army generals who repeatedly appealed to the Pharaohs for reinforcements on the front lines were ignored. The kings were obsessed with serving their gods, until they eventually lost the war, leaving a crippled economy and defeated country.

“Vayimareru es chayeihem ba’avodah kashah” (Shemos 1:14)

The collapsed state of Egypt left the country in shambles, until a new Pharaoh called Horemheb made a coup against the king in power and took over. When the Torah mentions “Vayakam melech chadash,” there are two interpretations: either it was a new king or it was the same king with new decrees. Horemheb’s ascent to power corresponds to both explanations; before becoming king, he was the influential commander-in-chief, while his predecessor was only a minor, according him much control. After the coup, he became the Pharaoh. His dates seem to correlate with the beginning of the Jews’ slavery in Mitzrayim and therefore point to him as the possible evil mastermind behind shibud Mitzrayim.

Understandably, he wanted to lift the anarchic country out of the depths, rebuild it, and revive the economy. First, he turned Egypt into a foreboding place where nothing but law and order reigned. Next, he wanted to build infrastructure to bring Egypt back to its former glory, and the Jews were an ideal source of cheap labor. He had a hard time getting the citizens on his side; the pasuk demonstrates that the Egyptians lived in harmony with the Jews. Using propaganda, he brainwashed his subjects about the Jews’ corrupt and deceitful character and easily turned them against their innocent neighbors, a tactic which, alas, has been repeated by many dictators since, including Hitler yemach shemo.

Horemheb got his people to sweet-talk the Jews into signing up for the work with the lure of wages. Of course, once in, they were forced to labor for free.

“Vayiven... es Pisom v’es Rameses” (Shemos 1:11)

We saw huge statues of a Pharaoh called Rameses II, who ascended the throne two reigns after Pharaoh Horemheb and ruled for 66 years — far longer than other kings. Known for his bloated ego, his strikingly large statues most likely further intimidated the already-beleaguered Jews.

The Torah mentions a king who died “after many days.” It was likely Rameses II, who had around 100 children and numerous descendants and outlived many of them. When he died, the Jews were finally able to pour out their hearts to Hashem, disguising their tears as mourning the country’s loss. Their heartfelt tefillos to Hashem triggered the Ten Plagues.

It was under Rameses II’s evil dictatorship that the Jews were forced to build Pisom and Rameses, located in North Egypt, an area that encompassed at least 12 square miles. The size was possibly greater, but it’s presently located under modern Egyptian villages and hard to excavate, so it’s impossible to know. Digital excavations — which involve bouncing sound waves into the soil and receiving back imagery — indicate there was a lake and a barracks, which shows the ruler’s intention to impress. Indeed, Pisom and Rameses — the latter which the king named after himself—were located by the easternmost branch of the Nile Delta, to give him more control over piracy and the transit of shipments.

In the aforementioned excavations, archaeologists were surprised to discover remains of many exotic animals still in their cages — obviously a zoo. The species were not native to Egypt, and included lions, rhinos, and giraffes, which would have been extremely difficult to capture. This discovery sheds light on a midrash in Yalkut Am Lo’ez, which notes that the Egyptians were punished with Makkas Arav because Pharaoh wanted to build a zoo. To do it, he sent vulnerable Jews to faraway jungles to capture the wild beasts. Inevitably, many met their deaths in the hunt, but those who survived brought home game.

“Teven ein nitan la’avodecha ul’veinim omrim lanu asu” (Shemos 5:16)

Although it’s widely believed that the Jews built the pyramids in Mitzrayim as part of their slave labor, it seems not to have been so. First, it’s known that the last king to be buried in a pyramid was Ahmose I and he died 200 years prior to Yosef’s coming to Mitzrayim. Moreover, the Torah states that the Jews were tasked with the arduous process of making bricks of straw, whereas the pyramids were built of stone. One such rare mud-and-straw brick, dating back to 1250 BCE and engraved with the words “Rameses II,” is stored in the museum’s basement vault.

Uk’yemei tzeischa miMitzrayim areina niflaos — may Hashem show us His Powerful Hand again, with the bringing of Mashiach. —

Who was Pharaoh?

The term for an Egyptian sovereign is Pharaoh, a word that took root during the reign of Hatshepsut, an Egyptian queen who was widowed young and temporarily filled the monarch’s role until her young nephew, the heir, was old enough to ascend the throne. She revelled in her position, and since the country enjoyed a peaceful, prosperous period during her 22-year reign, she decided to keep the status for herself. Only it was considered embarrassing that the king was a woman — it was usually only temporary when such a thing occurred — so she told her advisors to find her a suitable title that would uphold her honor but disguise her gender. They coined the term “Per-ow” — meaning “great house” (“per” meaning house and “ow” meaning great), very much like today’s way of referring to powerful leaders, as in, “The Palace announced…” The name Pharaoh, slightly altered, stuck for all future ancient Egyptian kings.

Figuring out the statue

The museum is dotted with Pharaoh statues of every size and shape. Why were the kings obsessed with statues?

Statues were made during a king’s lifetime. In fact, once a king died, any statues still being made were usually abandoned and left unfinished. A king commissioned statues during his reign to either intimidate the enemy or impress his authority upon his subjects. He would achieve this through a muscular overbearing replica of himself, which he then installed at the country’s borders and at landmarks around the country. When sculpted together with his family, the king would be much larger than his wives; his children would appear tiny.

Statues were also commissioned by a king for his funerary process. As soon as a king ascended the throne, he would start preparing for his death, not knowing how soon that day might come. Once the location of his tomb was confirmed, a small temple would be built and it would be filled with statues of the king, which were worshipped posthumously.

In line with the Pharaohs’ egoistic natures, the Egyptian statues all appeared impeccable and smooth, save for cracks and chips acquired with time. The sculptors had to alter the king’s true likeness to achieve a flawless, flattering, but still matching model.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 606)