Joseph Campbell was famously critical of many aspects of the monotheistic religions, none more so than the tendency of these faiths – especially the orthodox or fundamentalist versions of them – to confuse myth and history. Since the Judaic, Christian, and Islamic traditions tend to view themselves in historical rather than mythic terms, there is a particular penchant in these religions to literalize the stories found in their sacred texts, rather than read them in metaphorical, symbolic and, above all, mythological terms.
That said, of the three monotheistic faiths, Judaism is the most open to a mythic approach to understanding scriptural stories because of its unique tradition of midrash. Translated as “to study” or “to examine,” the word midrash is originally derived from the ancient Hebrew for “to seek.” A midrash is a commentary on a Biblical text and the tradition of rabbis creating midrashim dates back as far as the second century.
Among the factors contributing to the power of the tradition of midrash is the implication that each generation not only has an opportunity to reinterpret the Bible anew, but actually has a responsibility to do so. As the ancient Rabbis understood, without constant re-visioning in the light of changing social circumstances and new ways of understanding, traditional stories and symbols risk becoming both meaningless and irrelevant.
How does the tradition of midrash open Judaism to a mythic approach to understanding its stories and symbols? In the words of Joel Lurie Grishaver, Jewish writer, teacher, and storyteller, “Midrash doesn’t understand truth the way logic does…. Midrash works with the logic of myth, and myth – quoting the poet Robert Bly – is a ‘truth frozen in a story.’” Of course, the “truth” referred to in Bly’s quote is different from the truth of history. Unlike historical facts, in myths two or more things are often true at the same time, allowing for a deeper, more paradoxical kind of understanding.
As both a mythologist and someone raised in the Jewish faith, I find great power in this idea of constantly reexamining the mythic stories I first heard as a child in the light of changing social mores and evolving cultural developments. Even more, I value being encouraged to bring the insights of depth and archetypal psychology to my understanding and appreciation of these timeless tales.
To briefly illustrate the mythic potential of adopting a midrashic approach to engaging Biblical stories, let’s consider the narrative of the Exodus from Egypt, the foundational story of the Jewish tradition. Jews celebrate this story of the liberation of the Hebrews from slavery in Ancient Egypt during the festival of Passover by recounting it during the ritual meal known as the Seder. Reflection on the significance of this ancient tale, both communally and individually, is an essential aspect of this celebration.
One of the key themes of the Exodus story concerns the idea of “redemption.” Of course, being archetypal, this theme of redemption can be found — in one sense or another — in many of the world’s religions. Exactly what one is being redeemed from and how the process of redemption works, however, differs a great deal from tradition to tradition. For most Christians, for example, sin is what one is redeemed from, that redemption coming through belief in the Resurrection of Jesus. Buddhism, in contrast, which speaks of a redemption from suffering, is based in a program of practices which do not require believing in the Buddha’s own redemptive experience.
For Jews, the story of the Exodus concerns the idea of liberation from slavery. Indeed, the Haggadah, the text which is read during the Seder, repeatedly uses the phrase “redemption from bondage.” In the story of the Exodus, we have the two central characters: Pharaoh and Moses. The first is the enslaver and the second the redeemer from bondage. One figure represents a consciousness which seeks to oppress and control, while the other symbolizes the human urge toward freedom and self-determination. The despot and the liberator. It’s not surprising that Black slaves called Abraham Lincoln their Moses, nor that modern-day Egyptians referred to the deposed dictator Hosni Mubarak as a contemporary Pharaoh.
These two archetypal figures can also be seen from the perspective of the development of personal consciousness, for each of us possess some of the qualities of both of these archetypes. We might think of them as our “Inner Pharaoh” and our “Inner Moses.” The Inner Pharaoh represents the aspect of ourselves that keeps us enslaved to old beliefs and old ways of being; who keeps us from feeling truly free to claim our individuality, our personal and collective power. And who does not feel a stirring deep in our hearts when we finally manifest our inner liberator and claim the freedom and autonomy that it our birthright?
Perhaps this is why the story of the liberation of the Hebrews from bondage in Egypt has provided inspiration for so many oppressed individuals and peoples seeking freedom, including African Americans, women, and gays. Most recently, this story is being re-visioned to support the work of those seeking to free the Earth from the bondage of human exploitation. Remarkably, each of these reinterpretations of the Exodus story is supported by the idea of midrash. In each case, we can see the flowering of a mythic and archetypal way of understanding this epic story, a narrative which is not only central to Judaism, but also is as foundational to the Western tradition as Homer’s Odyssey or Dante’s Divine Comedy.