When we open the Hebrew Bible, we first encounter the primordial narratives of creation. However, as soon as we focus on the genesis of the people of Israel, a clear focal point emerges. Their foundation is not an abstract, philosophical tract; the core of these early texts is a cry for justice, where liberation from a system of oppression serves as the central theme of their identity. Here, we see the principle of Dutch theologian Harry Kuitert at work: “Everything we know from above comes from below.” This suggests that our theological conceptions (the “above”) are frequently a translation of earthly experiences and socio-political contexts (the “below”). To understand the God of the Bible, we must first examine the historical landscape in which He was discovered.

Many scholars view the preservation of a slavery tradition as highly significant, given that ancient societies typically emphasized a glorious origin. Peoples generally traced their lineage back to mythical kings, invincible heroes, or deities who had conquered chaos. In the ancient Near East, being a slave was a mark of severe social degradation. The fact that a nation retained a founding myth in which they are the powerless underdogs points to an authentic, foundational memory. During the Late Bronze Age (ca. 1550–1200 BCE), Canaan was not an independent territory but was subjected to the administrative and military dominance of the Egyptian Empire. Within this imperialist framework, the inhabitants of Canaan were largely treated as vassal subjects of Egypt. This collective experience of subjugation in their own land became a formative element in their nascent identity. Furthermore, this origin story served a theological purpose: because the people were relatively powerless in the narrative, the credit for their survival and liberation was attributed to their God, rather than to a human monarch or military prowess.

The name ‘Apiru raises a recurring question within biblical scholarship: is there a connection to the later word ‘Hebrew’ (‘Ivri)? Historically, the term ‘Apiru appeared throughout the ancient Near East as a designation for a social category rather than a specific ethnicity. Academics often refer to this as the “‘Apiru cycle”: individuals who fled due to debt, conscription, or famine, separated themselves from urban society, and frequently banded together in armed groups. They survived as mercenaries, nomads, or raiders on the regional fringes until they eventually reintegrated into established society or founded their own strongholds.

Many scholars argue that ‘Ivri could be linguistically related to ‘Apiru—a theory based on a shared West Semitic root meaning “to depart” or “to cross over.” While a direct linguistic connection remains a subject of intense debate (with epigraphers like Anson Rainey fiercely contesting it), historians such as Nadav Na’aman point to a strong sociological kinship. In the oldest biblical texts, ‘Hebrew’ is strikingly often used in a derogatory manner by foreigners, or to designate Israelites in a subordinate, fleeing, or servile role. This strongly suggests that the term initially referred to people exhibiting ‘Apiru-like behavior in the Levant, before acquiring a strictly ethnic connotation in later, more settled periods.

The concept that early Israelites emerged from such social dynamics is reinforced by the narratives of their own folk heroes. Figures like Jephthah (Judges 11) and King David in his early years (1 Samuel) perfectly embody the historical ‘Apiru profile. Both men were exiled or forced to flee, gathered bands of malcontents and debt-ridden men around them in marginal territories, sold their military services (sometimes even to the enemy), and ultimately seized power. Their stories reflect a historical reality in which bands of displaced persons could evolve into the founders of states.

As these marginal groups coalesced into an independent state entity in the highlands, their origin story underwent a theological reinterpretation. Instead of being remembered as the descendants of a disorganized social underclass, the final biblical narrative theatrically connects the term to the patriarch Heber (Eber), or to the concept of Abraham “crossing over” the river. In this paradigm, a socio-political designation for refugees and mercenaries was recontextualized by later Jerusalem scribes into a theological title of pilgrimage and divine calling.

How did these disparate elements synthesize into a nation? Around 1200 BCE, the international political system of the Late Bronze Age collapsed. Egypt gradually lost its grip and withdrew from Canaan. It is crucial to state clearly that decades of extensive archaeological research have resulted in a firm scientific consensus: there is no archaeological evidence for an Exodus from Egypt or a subsequent conquest of the Promised Land as described in the Bible. The biblical narrative—detailing a miraculous departure of millions of Israelites, a forty-year mass wandering through the Sinai desert, and a lightning-fast, highly destructive military campaign led by Joshua to conquer Canaan—is entirely unsupported by the archaeological record or any contemporary historical texts.

Because the grand biblical narrative is not historically factual, the scientific community remains divided on how the Exodus tradition originated and how it relates to the actual historical events surrounding the Late Bronze Age collapse. This debate generally encompasses three primary perspectives. The first perspective argues for no historical Exodus, suggesting that an Exodus group never existed and viewing the narrative as a purely late literary construct with no basis in actual events. A second approach, focusing on the cultural memory of the Egyptian withdrawal and championed by scholars like Ronald Hendel, posits that historical memories of Egypt retreating from Canaan were later transformed. In this view, the historical reality of the empire leaving the land was theologically reconstructed as the people leaving the empire. Finally, the synthesis model (or the “Exodus group” theory) currently suggests that while the vast majority of early Israelites were indeed indigenous Canaanites, a significantly smaller cohort with actual Egyptian experience may have migrated to the highlands. This smaller group likely assimilated with the local Canaanite population, introducing the Exodus tradition and the worship of YHWH, which were subsequently adopted by the broader community as a shared, unifying history.

Regardless of the precise mechanism, Pharaoh Merneptah left behind a victory stele in 1208 BCE that mentions “Israel,” explicitly identifying it with a determinative for a socio-ethnic group rather than a state. They existed as a recognized entity by the end of the 13th century BCE, albeit not yet as a centralized monarchy.

Archaeological excavations strongly contradict the biblical model of a sudden outside invasion, aligning instead with the theory of a largely indigenous emergence. Around 1200 BCE, hundreds of small, unfortified farming settlements appeared in the central highlands. Notably, the animal remains from these settlements show a distinct absence of pig bones, standing in stark contrast to the urban centers in the valleys. Many archaeologists interpret this dietary practice not simply as an early religious restriction, but as a deliberate socio-cultural boundary marker, distinguishing the highland inhabitants from the surrounding hierarchical societies.

Beneath the layers of biblical narrative, certain historical anomalies persist. The name Moses, for instance, is not of Hebrew origin but is an Egyptian element (mose, meaning “born of” or “son of”). For many academics, the preservation of an Egyptian name for Israel’s primary liberator suggests that an authentic historical memory of an Egyptian connection was retained, even as later traditions assigned it a Hebrew etymology (“drawn from the water”).