Bi Article p635 - 635
Bi Article p635 - 635
Bi Article p635 - 635
Abstract
In changing our focus to examine the children and the childhoods of the characters
in the Bible we can gain new insights into the biblical text. This essay applies childist
interpretation to a question that has long puzzled scholars: What did Moses mean
when he said: “I am heavy ( )כבדof speech and heavy ( )כבדof tongue” (Exod 4:10).
Scholars have suggested it meant Moses had a speech impediment or that he lost his
ability to speak Egyptian eloquently during his years in Midian. I suggest, however,
that these previous answers have overlooked a crucial stage in Moses’ development:
his childhood. Moses’ unique childhood and transition from Hebrew slave child to
adopted Egyptian prince creates within him a hybrid identity. His hybrid identity, in
turn, manifested itself in Hebrew language attrition, which causes him to protest that
he is “heavy of speech and tongue.”
Keywords
One of the many reasons Moses gives for refusing his prophetic call is the claim,
“I am slow/heavy of speech and slow/heavy of tongue” (Exod. 4:10).1 This state-
ment has long puzzled scholars who have suggested it meant Moses had a speech
impediment or that he lost his ability to speak Egyptian eloquently during his
years in Midian. I suggest, however, that these previous answers have overlooked
Developing Identity
2 C.-G. Voicu, Cultural Identities in Jean Rhys’ Fiction (Warsaw: De Gruyter, 2014), pp. 15–16.
3 P. Bourdieu, The Logic of Practice (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1990); J. Arnett, “Broad
and Narrow Socialization: Family in the Context of a Cultural Theory,” Journal of Marriage and
Family 57, no. 3 (1995), pp. 617–628; K. Garroway, “Children and Religion in the Archaeological
Record of Ancient Israel,” Journal of Ancient Near Eastern Religions 17 (2017), pp. 116–139.
4 P. Ricoeur, Oneself As Another (trans. K. Blamey; Chicago and London: University of Chicago
Press, 1992).
5 “The Birth Legend of Sargon of Akkad” (trans. B. Foster), in W. Hallo (ed.), The Context of
Scripture (Leiden: Brill, 2003), vol. 1, section 1.133, p. 461; “The Queen of Kanesh and the Tale of
Zalpa” (trans. H. Hoffner), in Hallo, The Context of Scripture, vol. 1, section 1.71, p. 181; C. Meyers,
Exodus (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), pp. 43–44.
tension within the narrative. This tension is at the core of Exod. 4:10. Navigating
this tension requires peeling back the layers of Moses’s identity to determine
if he is Egyptian, Israelite, neither or both. Using a childist interpretation, the
essay will engage in an interdisciplinary method in order to explore the hybrid
nature of Moses’s identity as an adopted child in the Egyptian court.
6 K. Gallagher Elkins and J.F. Parker, “Children in Biblical Narrative and Childist Interpretation,”
in D. Fewell (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Biblical Narrative (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2016), pp. 422–433; S.W. Flynn, “Children in the Hebrew Bible: A Field in Growth,” Religion
Compass 12, no. 8 (2018), available at https://doi.org/10.1111/rec3.12267 (accessed 10 April 2019).
7 E. Said, Orientalism (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1978).
paper also turns to the social sciences and the field of language acquisition and
attrition, demonstrating that the times and circumstances under which an indi-
vidual loses a language are as important as the first time they learn a language.
Finally, the reading presented here presumes a literary approach, interact-
ing with the text in its final form and addressing Moses as a literary character
created by authors who were influenced by the world in which they lived. Such
an approach is not meant to take the story as historical fact, or to discount the
complex development of the Moses narrative. Rather, engaging Moses’s story
here with a childist approach means centering on the character’s development
from child to man within the world in which the story is situated.
While the Israelites entered the land of Goshen by invitation (Gen. 47:1–6),
their presence in Egypt eventually became onerous. A people once welcomed
were now a threat. The solution to a growing immigrant population was to con-
trol them through slavery, subjecting them to harsh conditions as they were
forced to build royal cities for their overlords (Exod. 1:7–14).
Tables 1 and 2 offer brief soundings into Moses’s life from birth to his calling
in Exodus 4. The categories of identity: lineage, ethnic customs, dress, name,
and language are all markers of identity.8 These categories have been paired
with the identity-forming moments in the biblical narrative. Where the bibli-
cal narrative is silent, gaps have been filled with suggestions from ane sources.
Table 1 depicts identity from the Israelite perspective, while Table 2 demon-
strates moments in the narrative that portray Moses as Egyptian. One might
critique these figures as being a simplistic representation of identity, equat-
ing the categories with a signaling of social identity. Indeed, such a correla-
tion might seem passé, as more recent anthropological approaches point to
the nuance between signaling and shaping social identities.9 Yet, since we are
engaging with a text which does not offer much detail, we infer that the mark-
ers of identity offered are meant as signals to the reader.10
8 This definition comes from the social sciences, which understands dress as anything worn
or displayed: body coverings, adornments, or bodily modifications (tattoos or brandings).
For review of scholarship on the body and the related categories of dress and identity, see R.
Joyce, “Archaeology of the Body,” Annual Review of Anthropology 24 (2005), pp. 139–158.
9 Joyce, “Archaeology of the Body,” p. 143; L. Meskell and R. Joyce, Embodied Lives: Figuring
Ancient Maya and Egyptian Experience (London: Routledge, 2003); L. Meskell, “Archaeologies of
Identity,” in I. Hodder (ed.), Archaeological Theory Today (Cambridge: Polity, 2001), pp. 187–213.
10 I follow those literary critics who understand the author of the biblical text as having a voice,
belonging to the culture from which he comes, and therefore signaling to the reader with his
textual speech act. See, for example, S. Lanser, The Narrative Act: Point of View in Prose Fiction
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1981). Furthermore, the reader is to infer certain
things about the characters based on their descriptions, actions, and dialogues. See, M. Bal,
Lethal Love: Feminist Literary Readings of Biblical Love Stories (Bloomington: University of
Indiana Press, 1987); M. Bal, Death and Dissymmetry: The Politics of Coherence in the Book
of Judges (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988). Just as speech signals certain things,
so too does dress, or other descriptive identity markers within the narrative. For example,
M.M. Lee asserts that dress is a type of nonverbal communication that presents “constant,
complex social messages that would have been intended by the wearer and understandable
by the viewer.” M.M. Lee, “Deciphering Gender in Minoan Dress,” in A. Rautman (ed.),
Reading the Body: Representations and Remains in the Archaeological Record (Philadelphia:
University of Pennsylvania Press, 2000), pp. 111–123 (114–115).
11 Swaddling is a tried and true means of calming babies and keeping them quiet. A swaddle,
plus the gentle sway of the river, might have kept Moses from crying loudly and calling too
much attention to himself. For swaddling practices, see Garroway, Growing Up in Ancient
Israel, pp. 61–66. For a child-centered overview of the narrative in Exod. 2:1–10, see Bosworth,
Infant Weeping, pp. 67–77.
12 William Propp notes that if mōše(h) comes from the triliteral root “to draw up,” (mšh) it
would be pronounced as māšûy. The name Mōše(h) could still be connected to the root
(mšh) if it is a Qal passive participle meaning “drawer from water”. This, according to Propp,
is not unreasonable as Isa. 63:11 uses mōše(h) with this connotation. W. Propp, Exodus
(Anchor Bible, 2; New York: Doubleday, 1999), p. 152; see also Meyers, Exodus, pp. 43–44.
13 The element -mose is well-known from Egyptian personal names. The term mś is usually
found in conjunction with a divine name, such as Tutmoses, “born of Thoth,” or Ramesses,
“born of Ra” (Propp, Exodus, p. 152; Meyers, Exodus, pp. 43–44). The root mś can also mean
“basket/ leather basket;” perhaps a scribe was making a pun. http://aaew.bbaw.de/tla/
servlet/BwlBrowser?f=0&l=0&off=0&csz=-1&lcd=ms&tcd=&scd=&pn0=1&db=Egyptian&b
c=Start (accessed 28 June 2020).
14 H. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 1994).
15 D. Boyarin (Border Lines: The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity [Philadelphia: University
of Pennsylvania Press, 2010], pp. 1–14), following Bhabha, discusses the nature of borders
between identities as being places of flux. Borders are not cut and dry; they can be fuzzy.
16 Bhabha (The Location of Culture, p. 14) asserts that where borders are fuzzy, where identities
are not certainly one thing or another, a creative process occurs. He speaks of a third space of
enunciation, “the space of intervention emerging in the cultural interstices that introduces
creative invention into existence.”
identity to a series of interrelated ink splotches. In some areas one can see dis-
tinct colors, while in other areas the colors overlap creating shades, and in yet
other places, the colors are so blended they cannot be distinguished one from
the next. Each color variation can be more or less pronounced at any one given
place on the canvas. So too with Moses’s identity; at some points his lineage is
emphasized and at other times his age or relationship to various people comes
to the fore.
However, there is a single identifying marker that stands out time and time
again in his story: language. Judith Butler contends that the act of naming can
be a negative and positive experience. On the negative side, names and name
calling can hurt a person. Yet, on the other hand, name calling is a way of lin-
guistically identifying and in doing so even creating something as you call into
being the entity of the name that you cast out.17 Looking at the way language
operates in Moses’s narrative, one can see how different social groups identify
him. He is introduced as the son of two Levites (Exod. 2:1–2), but his name is
not given. In the interaction between his sister and the Egyptian princess he
is referred to as “this child/infant” and “one of the Hebrew children” (Exod.
2:6–10). Jethro’s daughters call him “an Egyptian” (Exod. 2:19). There is also the
famous name-calling scene wherein the princess bestows a name on Moses
(Exod. 2:10), an Egyptian name for an Egyptian prince. For the biblical writer
this is not name bestowing, but name calling: Moses, the Egyptian. Without
reconceptualizing his name, Moses, who was cast out by his people, would
remain an outcast. What Israelite would follow the Egyptian? No, Moses would
not do, instead the text explains, he is Moses (Hebrew) the one not cast out,
but drawn in, “for from the water I drew him out.” As each of these naming
instances demonstrate, language is central to Moses’s identity.
Placed in the presence of God, Moses lays bare his soul as he struggles with
the position he is put in and the person he is supposed to be (Exodus 3–4). As
Moses speaks to God, he starts to question his own identity. Up until this point
in Moses’s life the narrator has played up both sides of Moses’s identity. Now
17 J. Butler, Excitable Speech: A Politics of the Performative (New York: Routledge, 1997), p. 2;
Boyarin, Border Lines, p. 9. Magic in the ane also combines speech and creation. To create
something magically requires a speech-act; one must say something while performing an
action. J. Milgrom, “Magic, Monotheism, and the Sin of Moses,” in N. Sarna (ed.), The JPS
Torah Commentary: Numbers (Philadelphia and New York: Jewish Publication Society, 1990),
pp. 448–456.
we see Moses’s struggle firsthand in a classic case of man versus self. Who does
he think he is? How does he self-identify? What is his ipse identity?
Torn between two peoples who could claim him as their own, Moses’s
desire to figure out his ipse identity is most prominently displayed at Mt. Sinai
(Exodus 3–4). Here, Moses’s own questions belie the underlying uncertainty
Moses holds regarding his own identity: “Why would the people listen to me?
Why are you, yhwh, choosing me?” Moses is the least likely candidate, in his
opinion, to lead a group of Israelites. Moses questions his Israelite nature, so
why would the Israelites do anything less?
Moses’s questions are most often understood in the context of the prophetic
call narrative.18 The prophetic call narrative is formulaic, containing five dif-
ferent parts: the theophany, an introductory word of greeting, a demurral or
refusal, a commissioning statement, and a sign or talisman of reassurance for
the prophet.19 Moses’s call narrative is unique in that he refuses his call not
once, but repeatedly. Each of the refusals manifests a different struggle Moses
has with his identity. Thomas Dozeman examines these refusals using a helpful
framework, shown here in Table 3.20
Using Dozeman’s analysis, we see that Moses’s questions are about identity.
The first refusal shows a lack of self-identity: I am no one. The second refusal
is confusion: I do not know you, the God of Israel. This points again to his defi-
ciency in Israelite ethnic knowledge; Moses did not grow up with the religious
customs of the Israelites. Refusal three notes that the elders will question his
identity. For all they know, Moses is a disgraced Egyptian prince. Refusals four
and five bring the focus back to Moses. He is not an eloquent speaker, so God
should send someone else.21 In each refusal, we witness Moses struggling to
figure out who he is, struggling to reconcile the different parts of his childhood
with the life he is to lead.
18 B. Childs, Exodus (Old Testament Library; Philadelphia: Westminster John Knox Press, 1974),
pp. 53–70; M. Noth, Exodus (Old Testament Library; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1962), pp.
46–47; T. Dozeman, Exodus (Eerdmans Critical Commentary; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans,
2009), pp. 94–120.
19 V. Matthews, The Social World of the Hebrew Prophets (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2001), pp.
27, 38–40.
20 Dozeman, Exodus, pp. 132–133.
21 Those taking the literary or form critical approach here state the prophet’s refusal acts as a
vehicle through which God can show his power. Much like yhwh answers Job, the rhetorical
answer to “You think you are not worthy?” is “Am I not the one who creates humankind?”
See Meyers, Exodus, p. 61, on Moses’s metaphorical reluctance and God’s response as one
who directs history.
22 J. Tigay, “‘Heavy of Mouth’ and ‘Heavy of Tongue’ on Moses’ Speech Difficulty,” Bulletin of the
American Schools of Oriental Research 231 (1978), pp. 57–67.
23 After his survey of the literature Tigay leans in favor of reading a medical disability in Exod.
4:10.
24 C.f. Rambam, Hizquini, and Ibn Ezra.
25 See Propp’s overview of the verse (Exodus, p. 210).
The same word describing a foreign language speaker ( )עמקis also found in con-
junction with a word meaning to “stammer/stutter” ()לעג. First Isaiah speaks of
a time where wrongs will be righted, where the LORD will bring salvation.
You shall not see the strong people; a people whose lips are unintelligi-
26 Tigay (“‘Heavy of Mouth,’” p. 57) counters this argument by noting that other texts in the
Hebrew Bible use the terms “heavy” ( )כבדor “uncircumcised” ( )ערלinterchangeably when
referring to defunct body parts (Jer. 6:10//Isa. 6:10, Lev. 26:41// Exod. 7:14). Meyers (Exodus,
p. 61) also points to the ane noting the parallels that these verses have with the Egyptian
“opening the mouth” ritual.
27 Tigay, “‘Heavy of Mouth,’” pp. 57–58.
28 Tigay presents most of the following texts in his article but uses them to develop his view
that Moses had a physical malady. Whereas Tigay focuses on the physical defect, the
argument here uses the texts to focus on the metaphorical disability.
ble ([ )עמקyou shall not] hear/understand, the one of stammering tongue
([ )לעגyou shall not] understand. (isa. 33:19)
A chapter earlier, First Isaiah describes a utopian time when all wrongs will
be righted. Here again we see a reference to foreign tongues as that which was
once heard as slow and garbled (foreign) speech will be spoken fluently (as a
native speaker).
And the heart of the ones hastening towards understanding to know, and
the tongue of the ones stammering ( )לעגhastens to speak clearly. (isa. 32:4)
…for impeded speech has been extended back into Isaiah 28 and 33 to ex-
press the unintelligibility of a foreign language. The same development un-
derlies the synonymous “heavy tongue” in Ezekiel 3, where “heavy” has been
extended from a medical affliction which causes unintelligible speech to a
metaphor for speech which is unintelligible because of its foreignness.29
The important point here is that the Hebrew Bible links speaking a foreign
language with words that mean stuttering and stammering, and metaphori-
cally, the words for stuttering and stammering are linked with having a “heavy”
tongue and mouth.
This metaphor is not unique to the Hebrew Bible. Various other cognates
and ancient languages attest to the practice of identifying one who speaks a for-
eign language as having a heavy tongue, or stuttering speech. The Greeks used
the term barbaros to describe Barbarians, the ones who said “bar-bar-bar,” i.e.
the ones who were unintelligible to Greek ears.30 Sanskrit uses a similar term,
barbara, to mean stammering or non-Aryan one.31 Note how the repetition of
“bar” could sound like stuttering or stammering. In Arabic, the term ṭimṭimu
again notes the repetition of the sound “ṭim,” and the term ajamu refers to ones
who speak defectively or are non-Arabic speakers.32 The Mesopotamian cor-
pus also offers examples of this metaphor. A particularly apt example comes
from a disputation text where the speaker uses the term “heavy” to be equiva-
lent with “unintelligible.” The text states: eme-gerx- šè al-dugud eme-ni si nu-ub-
sá, which translates literally to: “Regarding Sumerian, he/it is heavy; his tongue,
it does not go straight” or more colloquially as “his Sumerian is all jumbled up,
he can’t speak it properly.”33 Describing the tongue as twisted is a metaphorical
way of saying the person is not fluent in a language.34
This view is based on the impression given in Exo 2:11–12 (J) that Mo-
ses fled Egypt in his youth or early manhood, combined with the explicit
statement in 7:7 (P) that he was now eighty, so that he was absent from
Egypt for something like sixty years (see ramban 1962 at exod 2:23).36
If, however, one looks at the final form of the narrative, then the time between
Moses leaving Egypt and encountering God at Sinai is only “a long time” (the
Hebrew literally means “many days” [Exod. 2:23a]). Tigay cautions that the
phrase “many days” need not refer to years upon years; rather it can refer to
a mere few years.37 He notes that it is only when Exod. 7:7 is brought to bear
upon Exod. 2:23 that it creates “the impression of an absence long enough to
33 Dialogue 2/ Enkiḫeĝal und Enkitalu line 97, trans. Jay Crisostomo (personal email to author,
18 September 2018). See also M. Ceccarelli, “Der Umgang mit streitenden Schülern im
Edubba’a nach den sumerischen Schulstreitgesprächen Enkiḫeĝal und Enkitalu und Ĝirinisa
und Enkimanšum,” Altorientalische Forschungen 45, no. 2 (2018), pp. 133–155 (136 n. 27).
34 Tigay cites A.W. Sjoberg and translates the line as: “In the Sumerian tongue he is heavy, he
cannot keep his tongue straight.” Tigay, “‘Heavy of Mouth,’” p. 60, citing A.W. Sjoberg, “The
Old Babylonian Eduba,” in S.J. Lieberman (ed.), Sumerological Studies in Honor of Thorkild
Jacobsen (Assyriological Studies, 20; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1976), pp. 159–179
(167).
35 For the rabbinic commentaries see, Rashbam, Ibn Ezra, and Hizquni. In modern scholarship
see, Tigay, “‘Heavy of Mouth,’” p. 60; Propp, Exodus, p. 211; C. Houtman, Exodus (Historical
Commentary on the Old Testament; Leuven: Peeters, 1993), pp. 404–408.
36 Tigay, “‘Heavy of Mouth,’” p. 60.
37 Tigay’s argument is based on other uses of the phrase, such as 1 Kgs 18:1 (“‘Heavy of Mouth,’”
p. 61).
cause Moses to lose facility in his childhood language.”38 Here Tigay uses a very
interesting phrase: “his childhood language.” William Propp makes another
notable observation. He says that in P, Moses cannot speak Egyptian well, but
in J Moses cannot speak Hebrew well.39 Both scholars offer this information in
passing as they are working to develop other views. Yet, when taken together,
these two observations have quite an impact. Tigay asks: What if Moses lost his
childhood language? And Propp further muddies the waters by asking which
language that would be: Hebrew or Egyptian?
If a man gives his child for suckling and for rearing but does not give
the food, oil, and clothing rations (to the wet-nurse) for 3 years, he shall
weigh and deliver 10 shekels of silver . . .41
The relationship between the wet nurse and the legal guardian of the child was
contractual; obligations went both ways. The wet nurse cared for the child’s
wellbeing, which, considering the high rate of infant mortality, was not an easy
thing in the ane. The Code of Hammurabi 194 addresses what happens if a
child should die in the care of the wet nurse:
If a man gives his son to a wet nurse and that child then dies while in the
care of the wet nurse, and the wet nurse then contracts for another child
without the knowledge of his father and mother, they shall charge and
convict her, and because she contracted for another child without the
consent of his parents, they shall cut off her breast.42
The wet nurse must end the first contract before taking in another child.
Note that ch 194 is not as concerned with the child as it is with the breach of
contract. “It was expected that at the end of the contract the child would be
41 M. Roth, Law Collections from Mesopotamia and Asia Minor (SBL Writings from the Ancient
World Series, 6; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 2nd edn, 1997), p. 64.
42 Roth, Law Collections from Mesopotamia and Asia Minor, p. 120.
returned to the person(s) that had hired the wet nurse. There was always the
threat that an unscrupulous wet nurse would try to abscond with the child and
re-adopt it.”43
Exod. 2:9–10 seems to imply that the wet nurse practice in question was
similar: “Take this child away, and nurse him for me, and I will give you your
wages. So, the woman took the child and nursed him. And the child grew, and
she brought him to Pharaoh’s daughter . . .” The wet nurse (Moses’s mother)
was hired by the Egyptian princess. She expected Moses to be returned to her
when he was weaned. Note the practice here goes against the known Egyptian
royal practice, for royalty were nursed by “the Great Wet-Nurse.”44 It might be
that foreigners were not nursed by the royal Great Wet Nurse, or that the prin-
cess, in fear for Moses’s life, decided not to bring him into the court until he
was older. The important point here is that Moses was given to the wet nurse
(his mother) and raised in her household.
The length of time Moses spent in his natal house is the next important
question for this argument. Again, wet nurse contracts from the greater Levant
and Mesopotamia offer some insight. They attest to the fact that wet nurses
were hired for a period of two to three years.
mNarām-šaur šilip rēmim mār Aḫuwaqar u Narubtum ana Eriba u Zirpa ana
tēnīqim iddinūšu ipram piššatam lubuštam ša šanātim maḫrû libbašina ṭāb.
As for PN1, the newborn son of PN2 and PN3, they [his parents] gave him
to PN4 and PN5 for wet-nursing. They [PN4 and PN5] received food, oil
and clothing for 3 years. They were pleased.” (ct 48 70 lines 1–9)45
Egyptians also nursed a child for three years.46 The Instruction of Any states:
Repay your mother for all her care. Give her as much bread as she needs,
then carry her as she carried you, for you were a heavy burden to her.
When you were finally born, she still carried you on her neck and for
three years she suckled you and kept you clean.47
Based on evidence from the surrounding ane cultures, we might therefore con-
clude that Moses was nursed for a period of three years before being returned
to the Egyptian court.
The final area of investigation brings us to the question of what languages
were spoken around Moses and what his first language (L1) would have been.
As previously noted, Moses was not raised in the Egyptian court, but rather
by his mother, away from the court perhaps in a village like Deir el-Medinah,
the Egyptian workers’ village of New Kingdom Egypt (1550–1080 bce/ 18–20th
dynasty.48 Modern studies of migrants demonstrate that they can operate in
society still speaking L1 and only learn how to speak the language of the new
country (L2) if the need presents itself.49 In general, lower-skilled, less-edu-
cated immigrant communities tend to keep their first language and remain
monolingual. In the case of slaves or persecuted peoples, maintaining the
native language can become a way to maintain their ethnic identity. We might
think about the Israelites remaining an L1 community, and therefore Moses
learning Hebrew for the first three years of his life. When Moses is returned to
the palace at age three, the language that he hears is not Hebrew, but Egyptian,
which becomes his L2.
Moses’s experience in the palace would not only have included learning
Egyptian as a spoken language, but as a prince, he would also have been privy to
an education. Males of royal and upper-class families learned to write Egyptian
for the purposes of formal letter writing and official correspondences. They
also would learn proper grammar and orthography, as well as how to read from
Research 1, no. 1 (2011), pp. 35–39 (36). The passage is translated with some slight differences
by M. Lichtheim (Ancient Egyptian Literature Volume II: The New Kingdom [Berkeley, CA:
University of California Press, 2006], 141): “Double the food your mother gave you, support
her as she supported you; she had a heavy load in you, but she did not abandon you. When
you were born after your months, she was yet yoked [to you], her breast in your mouth for
three years. As you grew, and your excrement disgusted, she was not disgusted, saying “What
shall I do!”
48 This impression is influenced by the archaeological discovery of Deir el-Medinah, the
Egyptian workers’ village of New Kingdom Egypt (1550–1080 bce/ 18–20th dynasty). Those
living in the village constructed the royal tombs in the nearby Valley of the Kings. Recent
excavations in the cemeteries surrounding Tell el-Amarna also attest to the fact that the
builders of the royal city lived close to the city. See G.R. Dabbs and M. Zabecki, “Abandoned
Memories: A Cemetery of Forgotten Souls?,” in B. Porter and A. Boutin (eds.), Remembering
the Dead in the Ancient Near East (Boulder, CO: University Press of Colorado, 2014), pp.
217–250.
49 For example, some emigrant communities are very tight-knit and the need to interact and
converse with those in the host country is very minimal. In these close-knit communities
L1 is easily maintained. M. Schmid, Language Attrition (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2011), pp. 87–88.
stock literary and religious texts.50 An important aspect of education was the
instructional literature, which was just as much a moral and ethical education,
as it was a socialization into what it meant to be an elite Egyptian. Instructions
covered four topics: how to act in various social situations and relationships,
how to act and speak privately to subordinates, loyalty to the king, and loyalty
to the gods. An integral part of the instruction was the teaching of rhetoric,
“rules of proper speech.”51 Moses’s life at court would have been steeped in
Egyptian language and culture. If he did continue with Hebrew, it would likely
have been in a classroom setting.52 The pressing question here is given the
emphasis on Egyptian life that Moses would have experienced in the palace,
how much Hebrew would Moses have retained?
50 H.-W. Fischer-Elfert, “Education,” in D.B. Redford (ed.), The Oxford Encyclopedia of Ancient
Egypt (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), vol. 1, pp. 432–442 (438–439); P. Lacovara, The
World of Ancient Egypt: A Daily Life Encyclopedia (Daily Life Encyclopedias; Santa Barbara,
CA: Greenwood, 2017), vol. 1, pp. 79–81.
51 Fischer-Elfert, “Education,” pp. 440–441.
52 Throughout Egypt’s history, trade and war made it necessary for diplomats and scribes to be
able to interact in foreign languages. The New Kingdom Egypt’s hegemony over the Levant
required correspondence in Semitic languages. Indeed, some Semitic loanwords even made
their way into the Egyptian syllabic orthography (Fischer-Elfert, “Education,” p. 440). The
most famous of the Semitic correspondence are the Amarna Letters, found in Egypt and at
various sites in the Levant.
53 Schmid, Language Attrition, p. 70.
culture. With respect to background factors, age plays a huge role. Schmid
notes that children who emigrate to an L2 country show drastic loss of their
L1 when compared to older individuals who emigrate,54 and Christophe Pallier
states, “In fact, studies of language attrition suggest that adults show much less
attrition than children.”55 Language attrition studies have demonstrated that
above all, children living in a multilingual setting must learn and maintain L1
until at least twelve years of age (see Table 4).56 Studies show that this is the
age at which a language finally “sticks” so to speak. If kept up through puberty,
the chances that L1 will be lost goes down even more.
These three categories, background, frequency, and psychology, are not iso-
lated but are often intimately related. For example, economic circumstances
can dictate the level of education, which falls into the category of background
information. Yet, the kind of education a person has, and the ability to take
extra language classes are also related to the frequency category. Consider, for
57 K. Yağmur, First Language Attrition among Turkish Speakers in Sydney (Tilburg: Tilburg
University Press, 1997); K. Jaspaert and S. Kroon, “Social Determinants of Language Loss,”
Review of Applied Linguistics 83/84 (1989), pp. 75–98.
58 S.H.O. Kim and D. Starks, “The Role of Fathers in Language Maintenance and Language
Attrition: The Case of Korean-English Late Bilinguals in New Zealand,” International Journal
of Bilingual Education and Bilingualism 13, no. 3 (2010), pp. 285–301.
59 Schmid, Language Attrition, pp. 86–87.
60 Jaspaert and Kroon, “Social Determinants of Language Loss”; M. Hulsen, Language Loss and
Language Processing. Three Generations of Dutch Immigrants in New Zealand (PhD Thesis,
Katholike Universiteit Nijmegen, 2000).
61 Schmid, Language Attrition, pp. 76–78; L. Milroy, Language and Social Networks (Oxford:
Basil Blackwell, 1987).
Some case studies help demonstrate the power of the psychological factors
related to social pressures. A socio-political study by Margit Waas examined
the effects of citizenship and L1 affiliation on German immigrants living in
Australia. It concluded that non-citizens, like those holding a green card or
work visa, had more attrition in their L1 than those who were citizens. Wass
concluded those with higher attrition encountered a sense of identity crisis,
being in limbo, and not knowing who they were.62 Another study of immi-
grants, this time from Romania to Toronto, found that an individual’s own
desire to retain their L1 had to do with their attitude. Those who did not expe-
rience as much attrition wanted to pass Romanian on to the next generation
and understood themselves as Romanian.63 Immigrants who faced a sense of
changing identity and self-identification in their new country were found to
have conflicting attitudes about who they were and the role their L1 played in
that identity.
The case studies above examined individuals who immigrated as a family, but
what about the attrition of adoptees? It appears that the effects of language attri-
tion on adoptees is magnified. Children under the age of twelve who are adopted
by an L2 parent lose their L1 within months, even if L2 parents encourage lan-
guage classes. The drop in the L1 is incredibly rapid. For example, one study of
a Russian child adopted by American parents recorded the girl’s reluctance to
interact, much less speak in Russian in as little as one year.64 Ongoing studies of
Korean speakers adopted by French speakers also found a rapid loss of Korean.
When compared to other Koreans who immigrated, the study found that adop-
tees spoke French like native speakers, intoning the vowels correctly, interpreting
consonant clusters accurately, and navigating the lexical genders with ease.65
Even when adoptive parents provide a child with language classes, this is
not enough. Language retention is not simply a matter of “use it or lose it.”
The frequency category, referenced above, includes what we commonly think
of as “knowing a language”: interactive language use, such as written or spo-
ken communication. However, language fluency and retaining that fluency is
also based on non-interactive exposure (media and reading), as well as inner
language (counting, math, inner dialogue, dreams, etc.).66 Adopted children
are often only afforded exposure to interactive language in their L1, and when
adoptees try to relearn their “hidden L1” as adults they have minimal advan-
tage over their peers with no knowledge.67 Other than pronunciation of for-
eign phonemes, the adoptees remain on the same level regarding vocabulary,
grammar, and syntax.
Using childist interpretation, this paper has engaged in a reading of Exodus 1–4
that focuses on identity. This approach has shown that Moses’s puzzling state-
ment, “I am slow/heavy of speech and slow/heavy of tongue,” can be under-
stood differently once we turn our view to focus on Moses’s childhood. The
development of Moses’s ipse identity goes hand in hand with the formation of
his social identity, which was forged in the royal Egyptian court. A child of the
Hebrew slave class, Moses is adopted as a prince of Egypt. His identity is nei-
ther Hebrew nor Egyptian, but both. Moses’s struggle to come to terms with his
hybrid identity manifests itself in the puzzling statement of Exod. 4:10.
Those who successfully keep their L1 are people who maintain L1 through
puberty, develop a sense of connection to their L1, encounter L1 in single-lan-
guage settings, interact with the language through speaking, and have expo-
sure from multiple sources and people. Moses did not, arguably, have any of
these. He left a Hebrew-speaking household at three years of age when the
period of wet-nursing was complete. Moses was then returned to the Egyptian
court where he was an adoptee who entered an L2 household.
Evidence from Egyptian records suggest that as a member of the royal
Egyptian household an adopted foreign child would be socialized to become
an Egyptian and form an Egyptian social identity. While it is possible that an
adopted foreign child would have had lessons in their natal language as part
of the royal education, these would have been the “interactive” and “non-in-
teractive” language modes of writing, reading, and perhaps also speaking. An
adopted child probably would not have experienced extended single-language
settings.
The childhood of Moses as presented in the biblical text would seem to
follow the cross-cultural data. In addition to the socio-historical materials,
67 C. Pallier et al., “Brain Imaging of Language Plasticity in Adopted Adults: Can a Second
Language Replace a First?,” Cerebral Cortex 13, no. 2 (2003), pp. 155–161; Pallier, “Critical
Periods in Language Acquisition and Language Attrition,” p. 163 n. 4.
the biblical narrative does not provide evidence that Moses would have been
encouraged to keep up the other language mode of “inner” language, arguably
the most intimate form of language. The Bible reports no further interactions
with his family or the Israelite people until a much older age; thus we might
argue that his social network with his L1 was neither dense nor multiplex.
Considering these factors, Moses’s ipse identity would therefore not be tied
to his L1 community. Yet the various ambiguous hints the narrative gives, such
as the origin of his name, lead the reader to understand that Moses’s identity
was not crystal clear. Exod. 2:11 has Moses recognizing a Hebrew as his kinsman.
We are presented with a character raised in the Egyptian court, which detests
the Hebrews, who, in spite of this, identifies as a Hebrew. We can imagine that
debate within himself concerning his own identity as Egyptian or Hebrew does
not favorably dispose Moses towards his first language (Hebrew) and the first
language community (the Israelites).
Each of the aspects just mentioned relates negatively to the three categories
of language attrition: his age leaving L1 was young (background), his engage-
ment with Hebrew language was, if anything, through a “classroom” setting
(frequency), and his socialization regarding Hebrew and Hebrews, as well as his
social network, would show L1 as the language of the slaves (psychological con-
nection). Therefore, according to language attrition theory, Moses would have
experienced a rapid attrition in Hebrew once he left the natal house. Based on
these factors, I would suggest that Moses’s statement in Exod. 4:10: “I am not
a man of words, neither yesterday or the day before; or since your speaking to
your servant; for I am heavy ( )כבדof mouth and heavy ( )כבדof tongue” can be
understood to signal that Moses felt like a foreigner in his “mother” tongue.68
Improper grammar, strange turns of phrases, perhaps stuttering, “ahs” and
“ums” were not the qualities needed of a great orator who would liberate the
Israelites from Egypt and lead them to the Promised Land.
Understanding Moses as referring to his L1 attrition in Exod. 4:10 fits well into
the larger picture of his refusals. Moses is experiencing at this very moment,
the full force of Bhabha’s notion of hybridity. Moses knows he is not Egyptian
or Israelite, but somewhere in between. His refusals move in a concentric cir-
cle. They start at the center with the two big existential questions: Who am I?
68 Indeed, we might even understand the reference to speaking eloquently to mean that
Moses was protesting he was not trained in Hebrew Instructions in the same manner as
he was trained in the Egyptian Instructions. As referenced above, Instructions served as a
primary means of socializing an upper-class man into Egyptian court or upper-class life. He
does not know how Hebrews use rhetoric, relate to subordinates, engage properly in social
interactions, or show loyalty to their god(s). As if all this were not enough, Moses speaks
Hebrew like a foreign language.
(3:11) and Who is God? (3:13). The third concentric circle concerns the leader-
ship of Israel: Will the elders accept me as an Israelite who has encountered the
Israelite God (4:1)? His final questions do not indicate a physical speech disa-
bility, nor do they concern the Egyptians’ ability to understand him because he
lost his Egyptian. Rather, the questions continue to expand outward to address
the Israelites’ perception of him. Moses protests, I don’t know how I feel about
being identified as an Israelite; Hebrew is my native language (L1), I can’t even
speak it that well! (I am heavy of mouth and tongue).69 This last protest is sym-
pathetic with various personal stories from people who have experienced lan-
guage attrition.70
Moses’s last-ditch pitiful refusal “send someone else” (Exod. 4:13) is met first
with anger, and then with a practical solution: God will send Aaron to speak on
Moses’s behalf. Where one could see this last refusal as a clear Priestly inser-
tion to introduce Aaron into the narrative, it supports this childist reading well.
God makes room for no more excuses when he replies: I’ll let Aaron, the Levite
(i.e. a self-identifying Israelite) be your mouthpiece; “I know he can speak well.”
Or as the nrsv and nas put it: “He can speak fluently.” To which we might
add: “He can speak [Hebrew] fluently.” By including Aaron in his response, God
seems to acknowledge Moses has a point regarding his language attrition.
In summary, this essay has shown that focusing on Moses’ childhood pro-
vides a new lens with which to view a statement that has been the focus of
many interpretations. As an adult Moses proclaims, “I am slow of speech and
heavy of tongue.” This statement arises from an issue born in his childhood. In
an ironic twist, Moses’s first childhood language, that of the Israelites, serves
as an impediment, rather than a catalyst for his ability to free the Israelites and
lead them into the Promised Land.
69 One could read his internal conflict and language attrition into the many conflicts he faces
later in his tenure as Israel’s leader. During the Wilderness years we again see a tension in
the notion of who Moses thinks he is and who others think he is. Time and time again God
must reassure the people that Moses is God’s chosen leader and that this is God’s plan. God
gives miracles of food and water to support Moses when the people grumble (Exod. 16, 17;
Num. 20). When the leadership rebels, God again provides signs and portents supporting
Moses (Num. 12, 16–17).
70 Consider Monika Schmid’s own story (Language Attrition, pp. 83–84). She grew up speaking
a dialect of Southern Germany and then moved to the north, where “High German” was
spoken. When returning many years later to attend a funeral in her home village she did
not know how to talk to the people there. While she could understand them, she describes
the feeling of not wanting to speak “High German” for fear of being thought of as a show-
off. Yet, at the same time she did not want to try to imitate her old dialect for fear of being
an imposter. One can imagine Moses learning “High Hebrew” at court and feeling similar
feelings when faced with the prospect of returning to his “home village.”