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Serach Knew Moses Was the Redeemer by Joseph's Password

The elders wanted a verdict on a staff that had moved. Serach asked for a sentence Joseph spoke while dying. When she heard it, she named the man.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. She Waited for a Sentence
  2. The Word Joseph Left
  3. The Family's Older Rescues
  4. The Visit That Opened a Womb
  5. The People Who Believed a Word

The elders came to Serach daughter of Asher with a wonder-worker and a report. A man had arrived from the wilderness. His staff had become a serpent. Water had become blood. They wanted her to say he was the one.

Serach Knew Moses Was the Redeemer by Joseph's Password Click for full size

She was not impressed. "There is no reality in the signs," she said. Egypt had magicians. A stick that moves is not yet a key.

She Waited for a Sentence

The room waited. Serach had heard men claim a staff before. She listened for a sentence, not for theater. The elders repeated the phrase the way a person repeats a password they are not sure they heard right. He had said pakod yifkod, God will surely visit.

Serach's face changed. "He is the man who will redeem Israel from Egypt, for thus did I hear: Pakod pakadti, I have surely visited you."

No one asked the staff to move again. The elders took her sentence and carried it out to the people.

The Word Joseph Left

The password did not begin with Moses. Joseph was dying in Egypt when he spoke it. The brothers stood in the room. He did not give them a new sign. He gave them a sentence to keep until a later mouth said it back. God will surely visit you, and you will carry my bones up from here (Genesis 50:24-25). He pointed at the oath the way a dying man points at the one thing that must not be lost. Wait for the visit. Do not let Egypt teach you a different word for rescue.

Asher taught that sentence to Serach. She outlived the men who first heard it. Elders could forget. She refused to forget. When Moses and Aaron came, the living witness was a woman who still knew how redemption sounds when it knocks.

The Family's Older Rescues

She told the elders the word was older than Moses. Abraham had left Ur on a doubled letter, when God said, "Get thee out of thy country" (Genesis 12:1). Isaac had been pushed from Philistine space as one much mightier than they (Genesis 26:16). Jacob had begged to be delivered from Esau (Genesis 32:12). Joseph had spoken visit on his deathbed. Now a mouth from the wilderness had said it back.

That was the proof. The stick was not.

Rabbi Eliezer would later count those doubled shapes on a page: khaph, mem, nun, peh, tsadi, five letters that take a second form, each pair bound to a rescue, the last of them a branch still to grow and rebuild. Serach did not need the later count. She had kept the middle one in her ear since the brothers still argued about grain and graves.

The Visit That Opened a Womb

The visit she was waiting for was the same force that counted every firstborn male (Numbers 3:40). It was the same force that remembered Hannah until a closed womb opened and she bore sons and daughters (I Samuel 2:21). Job spoke of a remembrance that preserved his spirit. Isaiah heard a remembrance for peace.

When Moses spoke visitation, he opened a family vault that held Joseph's dying certainty. After Serach named him, God's visit moved from Joseph's future tense into a living mouth. The people heard it and bowed.

The People Who Believed a Word

Slavery had lasted long enough to make any wonder look like a trap. Serach asked for the only proof a court magician could not forge: the family's own sealed speech of visitation. Moses had it.

Without that sentence he might have remained another wonder-worker in a land full of them. With it he became the continuation of Joseph's last clear word. The people believed, and when they heard that the Lord had visited the children of Israel, they bowed (Exodus 4:31). Egypt had reason to worry.


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The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 48:17Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer, trans. Rabbi Gerald Friedlander, London (1916) · CC-BY

They stretch, bend, or take on a new form entirely. It's more than just aesthetics; according to Jewish tradition, these final forms, the sofit, hold a profound secret, a key to understanding redemption itself.

In Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating text that weaves together biblical narrative, aggadic legends, and mystical insights, we find a remarkable teaching about these letters. Rabbi Eliezer connects the five letters that have these final forms, Khaph, Mem, Nun, Pê, and Zaddi, to pivotal moments of redemption in Jewish history, and even to our future hope. Each of these letters, in its own way, whispers of liberation.

Rabbi Eliezer begins by connecting Khaph, twice over, to Abraham's journey. Remember God’s command, "Lekh Lekha", "Get thee out of thy country" (Gen. 12:1)? It was with this call that Abraham was redeemed from Ur of the Chaldees, setting out on the path that would define a nation. The Khaph, doubled, echoes the urgency and the promise of that first step toward freedom.

Next, we have Mem, also appearing twice, and linked to Isaac's experience with the Philistines. They told him, "Go from us; for thou art much mightier (Memennu M'ôd) than we" (Gen. 26:16). Isaac was asked to leave, yes, but it was a recognition of his strength, his burgeoning power. The Mem here signifies a reluctant acknowledgment of a destiny that could not be contained.

Then comes Nun, again, doubled, calling to mind Jacob's plea for deliverance from his brother Esau: "Deliver me, I pray thee, (Hazilêne na) from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau" (Gen. 32:11). The Nun embodies the vulnerability and the desperation of that moment, the fervent hope for rescue.

The letter Pê is linked to the redemption from Egypt. God says, "I have surely visited you, (Paḳôd Paḳadti) and seen that which is done to you in Egypt… I will bring you up out of the affliction of Egypt" (Ex. 3:16, 17). Paḳôd – visitation or remembering. The doubled Pê here is powerful, a promise fulfilled, a nation pulled from the depths of slavery.

Finally, Zaddi speaks of the future, of the ultimate redemption. The Holy One, blessed be He, will redeem Israel from the oppression of the kingdoms. "Behold, the man whose name is (Zemach) the Branch; and he shall grow up (yizmach) out of his place, and he shall build the temple of the Lord" (Zech. 6:12). Zemach, the branch, a symbol of hope and renewal. The Zaddi looks forward, toward a time of complete and lasting peace.

But here's where the story gets even more interesting. This secret, the mystery of the Redemption, wasn't just floating around. It was passed down, carefully and deliberately.

According to Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, these letters were first given to Abraham, who then passed them on to Isaac, who gave them to Jacob. Jacob, in turn, entrusted the secret to Joseph. Remember when Joseph, on his deathbed, says, "But God will surely visit (Paḳôd yiphḳôd) you" (Gen. 50:24)? He was invoking that very promise of redemption, the one encoded in the letters.

The narrative continues: Joseph's brethren received the secret, and then Asher, Jacob’s son, passed it on to his daughter Serach.

Who is Serach? You might not recognize her name immediately, but she plays a crucial role in this story.

When Moses and Aaron came to the elders of Israel in Egypt and performed signs, the elders went to Serach for confirmation. They told her about the signs, but she remained skeptical. Until.. they uttered the words "Paḳôd yiphḳôd", "God will surely visit you."

Serach recognized the code, the key to unlocking the promise. "He is the man who will redeem Israel," she declared, "for thus did I hear, Paḳôd Paḳadti, 'I have surely visited you.'" (Ex. 3:16)

And what happened then? "Forthwith the people believed in their God and in His messenger" (Ex. 4:31). Serach, the daughter of Asher, held the key that unlocked their faith, their hope, and ultimately, their freedom.

What a powerful image: the secret of redemption, passed down through generations, entrusted to a woman who, with a single phrase, ignited the spark of belief.

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Bamidbar Rabbah 4:4Bamidbar Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

The book of Bamidbar Rabbah, a treasure trove of rabbinic commentary on the Book of Numbers, explores this very idea. It all starts with the command to count the firstborn males, "Count every firstborn male" (Numbers 3:40). The Hebrew word used here is pekod (פקד), which carries a weight far beyond a simple census. It suggests a remembrance filled with purpose and potential.

The rabbis in Bamidbar Rabbah see this "pekida" (פקידה), this act of remembering, as a powerful force that ripples through all aspects of life. It’s not just about tallying numbers; it's about divine attention, a benevolent gaze that brings blessings.

Think about Hannah, from the Book of Samuel. Remember her tearful prayers for a child, her desperate longing? "For the Lord remembered [fakad] Hannah, and she conceived and bore three sons and two daughters" (I (Samuel 2:2)1). Here, fakad (פקד) – a close relative of pekod – signifies a remembrance that breaks through barrenness and brings forth new life. It’s a profound example of divine intervention fueled by remembrance.

It goes deeper. This beneficial remembrance isn’t just about birth and children. It's about preservation itself! As Job cries out in his suffering, "And Your beneficial remembrance [ufekudatekha] preserved my spirit" (Job 10:12). Even in the darkest of times, when everything seems lost, the act of being remembered, of being seen by the Divine, can be a lifeline. Ufekudatekha (ופקדתך) becomes a shield, protecting our very essence.

And finally, the Rabbis in Bamidbar Rabbah connect this idea of beneficial remembrance to shalom, peace. Isaiah proclaims, "I will beneficially remember you [fekudatekh] for peace" (Isaiah 60:17). Fekudatekh (פקדתיך) here isn't just about the absence of conflict. It’s about a deep, all-encompassing peace that permeates every fiber of being, a sense of wholeness and harmony that only comes from knowing you are remembered, cherished, and cared for.

So, what does all this mean for us? Perhaps it's a reminder to cultivate our own acts of beneficial remembrance. And perhaps, in that act of remembrance, we can bring a little more life, preservation, and peace into the world.

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