Our story comes to us, indirectly, from Flavius Josephus, the 1st-century Romano-Jewish historian. In his work Against Apion, Josephus is defending Judaism against its detractors. One of those detractors was Manetho, an Egyptian priest and historian from the 3rd century BCE. Manetho spun a wild tale about the origins of the Jews, and Josephus, quite understandably, wasn't having it.
Manetho's version, as relayed by Josephus, begins with a king named Amenophis who, for some reason, "desired to see the gods." Now, Josephus is quick to point out the absurdity of this. What gods are we talking about? The animal deities the Egyptians already worshipped? Or the heavenly ones? And if the latter, what made Amenophis think he could just see them? Had another king done it before?
Then comes the prophet, supposedly a wise man. But if he was so wise, why didn't he tell the king his desire was impossible? And here's where it gets even stranger: the prophet claims the gods won't appear because of the people's physical imperfections, specifically leprosy. Josephus rightly asks: since when do gods care about bodily ailments? Aren't they more concerned with wickedness? Plus, how do you even gather eighty thousand lepers in one day?
The king, instead of expelling these afflicted people as the prophet supposedly advised, sends them to work in quarries. It's as if he needed laborers more than he wanted to "purge his country". And the prophet? He kills himself, predicting the gods' wrath. But wait, if he was such a seer, why didn't he foresee his own demise?
But the story doesn't end there. The king, despite the dire warnings, allows these "maimed" people to inhabit Avaris, a city formerly belonging to the shepherds (a term often associated with foreigners and sometimes used pejoratively). Here, they choose a priest from Hellopolis named Osarsiph, who then changes his name to Moses. Yes, that Moses.
According to Manetho, this Moses forbids the people from worshipping Egyptian gods and encourages them to kill and eat the sacred animals. He forms a pact with them, builds a wall around Avaris, and then… declares war on the king.
And it gets even more fantastical. Moses sends a message to Jerusalem, inviting "that people" (the Jews) to come to his aid, promising them Avaris, claiming it once belonged to their ancestors. They arrive, and together they wage war against Egypt, burning cities and temples, committing all sorts of atrocities.
The Egyptian king, Amenophis, supposedly flees to Ethiopia, leaving the sacred animals in the care of the priests. But thirteen years later, he returns with a massive army, defeats the "shepherds" and the "polluted people," and drives them all the way back to Syria.
Josephus is incredulous, and for good reason. He meticulously dismantles Manetho's narrative, pointing out its inconsistencies and absurdities. It's a clear attempt to slander the Jewish people and distort their history. The idea that Moses was a defrocked Egyptian priest who led a band of lepers and committed atrocities simply doesn't hold water.
What's fascinating about this story is how it highlights the power of narrative. Manetho crafted a tale designed to demonize the Jews, playing on existing prejudices and fears. And while Josephus effectively refutes it, the fact that such a story existed in the first place is a reminder of how easily history can be twisted and manipulated. It reminds us to be critical of the stories we hear, to question their sources, and to always seek a deeper understanding of the truth.