Today, we're diving into one such path, guided by the words of Josephus, a first-century Romano-Jewish historian. He's responding to some pretty harsh claims made by an Egyptian priest named Manetho. Josephus, usually so measured and careful, gets visibly riled up here. Some scholars even suggest he gets a little too heated in his response, perhaps losing some of his usual objectivity.
Manetho, according to Josephus, promised to interpret Egyptian history from their sacred writings. He starts out okay, acknowledging that "our people had come into Egypt, many ten thousands in number, and subdued its inhabitants," and that we later left, settling in Judea and building Jerusalem. So far, so good, right? But then… things take a turn.
Manetho then introduces what Josephus calls "incredible narrations." He claims that the Jewish people were somehow mixed up with Egyptians suffering from leprosy and other diseases, and that they were all forced to leave Egypt together. He even invents a king named Amenophis – suspiciously omitting the length of his reign, unlike the other kings he mentions.
Now, Manetho had already stated that the Exodus – the departure of the shepherds, or Hyksos, as they were known – had occurred 518 years before the reign of King Tethmosis. He then gives a timeline of 393 years until the reign of two brothers, Sethos and Hermeus (also known as Egyptus and Danaus, respectively). Sethos, he says, drove Hermeus out of Egypt and reigned for 59 years, followed by his son Rhampses for 66 years.
So, after essentially admitting that our ancestors left Egypt centuries earlier, Manetho introduces this new, fictitious King Amenophis. This Amenophis, driven by a desire to see the gods (like his predecessor Orus), consults with another Amenophis – "the son of Papis, and one that seemed to partake of a divine nature." This wise Amenophis advises the king to cleanse Egypt of lepers and other "impure people," a number that reaches a staggering 80,000. These unfortunates are then sent to work in quarries east of the Nile, effectively segregated from the rest of Egyptian society.
But here's where it gets even stranger. Some of these afflicted were learned priests, yet this wise Amenophis fears divine retribution for mistreating them. He foresees that these "polluted wretches" will be aided by others who will conquer Egypt and hold it for thirteen years. He writes all this down, then kills himself, leaving the king in despair.
Manetho continues, saying that after a long period of suffering in the quarries, the king grants the afflicted the deserted city of Avaris, once home to the shepherds, for their protection. Now, according to Manetho, this city was sacred to Typhon. Once settled, these people appoint a leader from among the priests of Heliopolis named Osarsiph. They swear obedience to him, and he institutes radical laws: they must not worship Egyptian gods, they must kill and destroy the sacred animals held in the highest esteem, and they must only associate with those in their confederacy.
"This is a very valuable testimony of Manetho," Josephus interjects, pointing out that "the laws of Osarsiph, or Moses, were not made in compliance with, but in opposition to, the customs of the Egyptians." It's a crucial detail often overlooked.
Osarsiph then orders the construction of walls around their city and sends messengers to the shepherds, who had been driven out of Egypt by Tethmosis, inviting them to join the war against Egypt. He promises to restore them to Avaris and provide for them, promising to easily bring the country under their dominion.
These shepherds, numbering 200,000, eagerly accept the offer and arrive in Avaris. King Amenophis, remembering the prophecy of Amenophis son of Papis, is thrown into turmoil. He gathers the Egyptians, consults with their leaders, brings out their sacred animals, and instructs the priests to hide the images of their gods. He sends his five-year-old son Sethos (also named Ramesses) to safety.
Amenophis then marches with 300,000 soldiers against the invaders. But instead of fighting, he retreats to Memphis, gathers Apis and other sacred animals, and flees to Ethiopia with his army and a multitude of Egyptians. The Ethiopian king, obligated to Amenophis, welcomes them and provides for their needs, allotting cities and villages for their exile for the prophesied thirteen years. He even stations his Ethiopian army on the Egyptian border to guard against attack.
Meanwhile, back in Egypt, the people of Jerusalem, along with the "polluted Egyptians," commit unspeakable acts of barbarity. They set cities and villages ablaze, desecrate temples, destroy the images of the gods, and force priests and prophets to slaughter and desecrate the sacred animals, then drive them naked from the land. And, the final twist? The priest who ordained their laws, Osarsiph, originally from Heliopolis, changed his name to Moses after joining these people.
So, what are we to make of all this? It's a wild and disturbing tale, full of accusations and distortions. It's clear that Manetho had an agenda, a desire to paint the Jewish people in the worst possible light. But it also offers a glimpse into the prejudices and anxieties that existed in the ancient world. It reminds us that history is often written by the victors, and that the stories we tell about ourselves and others can be deeply influenced by fear, resentment, and the desire to control the narrative. What responsibility do we have to unpack and correct these harmful narratives? How do we ensure that the voices of the marginalized are heard and that history is told with greater accuracy and empathy?