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The Haftarah Project: Shemot — Descending to Rise

Image generated by Dall-E.

The Ashkenazi haftarah for Shemot, plays with the fleeting nature of freedom. It opens with the image of the people of Jacob being fruitful in a foreign land—an image that mirrors the opening of parashat Shemot, where Jacob’s descendants prosper in the land of Egypt. Yet in both cases, this flourishing is temporary, masking the arduous journey toward true liberation.

In Isaiah’s prophecy, visions of the exiles’ ingathering are juxtaposed with harsh warnings for the Israelite people of what will happen if they stray and worship idols.

The strange imagery in the haftarah depicts God in the place of an abusive farmer. God takes advantage of the Israelites—even though God promises them that they will bloom and flourish, God speaks of the harsh treatment they will be put through if they stray— speaking of them as wilting flowers or withering plants. Freedom to flourish and live with God as their master comes at a cost. In order for the Israelites to be free, they must serve a master who in this haftarah is painted as abusive, wrathful, and vengeful.

God tends to God’s plants but not with lovingkindness. The haftarah uses the imagery of physically beating the plants, beating them to violently send them into exile to be gathered up together again. “And in that day, the Lord will beat out (the people like grain) from the channel of the Euphrates to the Wadi of Egypt; and you shall be picked up one by one, O children of Israel!” (Isaiah 27:12) This is a God who uses exile and hardship as tools to shape God’s people. The imagery is stark: a farmer beating plants into submission, crops withering under neglect. This depiction challenges conventional ideas of divine love, presenting a God who molds God’s people through suffering rather than nurturing care.

The metaphor in the haftarah casts the Israelites as delinquent, yet fragile and vulnerable. Beaten, scattered, and left to wither, they are nonetheless expected to rise again. This rhetoric risks fostering a perception that suffering is necessary to merit God’s love and compassion, shaping a relationship rooted in fear rather than trust.

There is an idea in Judaism, “Yeridah L’tzoreh Aliya,” descending in order to ascend. This concept comes from the talmud (Makkot 7b) when trying to decipher if manslaughter was accidental based on the details of the swing one the hammer. However, this idea of going down in order to come up has expanded into many threads of Judaism. It is an obvious theme in the story of Joseph, that he needed to descend to eventually ascend to the throne, to truly appreciate the growth he had made. We also see similar imagery when the Israelites go down to Egypt and eventually become enslaved- the lowest level of servitude. In God’s eyes, they go down in order to ascend, to replace God as their master instead of Pharaoh. This concept is also prominent in this haftarah- the Israelites must be beaten, threatened or put into exile in order to appreciate their Master, God. But what does this rhetoric do for us? Can’t internalizing this harmful language lead us to think that we must suffer in order to deserve God’s love or God’s compassion?

This framing carries significant implications. It reinforces the idea that hardship must precede freedom, that pain is a necessary step toward growth and transformation. Such a perspective can internalize a belief that divine love is contingent upon enduring trials—a theology that shapes how individuals perceive their worthiness and their relationship with God.

The haftarah oscillates between hope and threat, much like the ephemeral nature of a plant. A crop can grow and flourish, but it can also wither under harsh conditions. Beaten grain may be gathered, but the process leaves lasting scars. According to the Malbim, God refrains from destroying the Israelites outright because God desires their teshuvah (repentance). Even so, the demand for teshuvah emerges under the shadow of divine wrath, reinforcing a narrative of obedience born from fear.

This dynamic is not unique to Isaiah. Jewish identity often intertwines resilience with the scars of struggle. The haftarah uses the language of Jacob, then shifting to Israel, symbolizing a forefather who’s very nature was transformed in the wake of struggle- literally wrestling with God.

The principle reflected in the Haftarah—of yeridah l’tzoreh aliyah—is harmful. Descent may be part of the path to elevation, but this path should not normalize suffering as a prerequisite for faith or redemption. It is possible and even meaningful to find a closer connection with God as a result from being in a place of yeridah, but yeridah should not be the only path that links one to God. Nevertheless, it is important to leave the haftarah where it is, as a narrative that can have scarring effects with questionable theology. It’s important to become aware of these scars, and of the harsh language that is used to describe Israelites in relationship with God to allow us to continue to challenge these types of relationships, whether it be with God, or our fellow human beings. This language of an abusive God does exist, and its awareness is paramount to humanity moving forward in a gentler way.


Editors Note: The reflections from the Haftarah Project represent the thoughts and opinions of the author.