רפואה מן התורה
Healing from the Torah
By Rabbi Adam Ruditsky
I
grew up in a Jewish home that was cultural but not religious. I went to a Jewish preschool for a year and when
I was younger celebrated Passover yearly with relatives that just abruptly
stopped, although we always lit our Hanukkah candles. I also remember from time to time going to a
wedding or Bar Mitzvah ceremony (including my own), but even those I processed through
the lens of Jewish cultural at best. I
was involved at our local JCC (Jewish Community Center) where I played sports
but never went to any religious based classes, never learned about Jewish
history, nor did I ever go to any type of Jewish summer camp. However, I was raised during a time when
Israel united all Jews worldwide, standing as a reminder to me that I was part
of a larger community. In fact the way I
was raised, in my mind, what I believed was really mutually exclusive to who I
was. For many years I spent time in
other religious communities, which also for me had absolutely nothing to do
with being Jewish, it was about where I was at personally. Anyway, details aside, my journey always traveled
through my eyes of being a Jew, and as long as my identity and belief did not
conflict, I was good with it. Then the
day came when I understood much more and listened to my inner self, my neshoma,
which had been awaken, realizing that I could no longer separate the two; I was
a Jew and it had everything to do with what I believed. When I returned to Judaism in earnest this
part of the story of Moses spoke to me in a special way, perhaps it does for
some of you also.
Moses was born during a time when
the current Pharaoh decreed that all baby boys were to be killed at birth to
stop the growth and the perceived power of the Hebrews. We learn in the Book of Jubilees 47:3 that Moses
was born seven months into this edict and to save his life his mother entrusted
her newborn son to be raised in the house of Pharaoh as an Egyptian. 40 years later Moses’ Jewishness is awakened
when he saw an Egyptian overseer (who he probably knew) mistreating a fellow
Hebrew to which he responds by killing the aggressor for the sake of his mishpocha (family). This happened at a time according to Exodus 2:11 “when Moses was grown,” although he was grown up in Exodus 2:10 as
well. Given that Moses growing up is
mentioned twice Rashi teaches that the first time refers to the
growth of his physique and the second time to the growth of his greatness when Moses
assumed his role in the Royal court of Egypt.
The Ramban, who came after Rashi, taught that the first time
also had to do with physical growth whereas the second time was about a growth
in knowledge. But here I think the words
of Kabbalist Rabbi Philip Berg are worth consideration. Rabbi Berg, like Rashi and Ramban, looked to
Exodus 2:10 to speak of physical growth as well, yet in 2:11 this growth was
just not about his political greatness or gained knowledge, but Moses grew when
he “felt the pain of his people,” an inner growth of being. In
other words at this moment his Jewishness was awakened and Moses identified as
a Jew recognizing his true community.
Rabbi Mark Gottlieb, who at one time
was the Principal
at the Yeshiva University High School for Boys in New York, we can safely
assume understood something about identity formation. Writing about Moses he
talks about the complexity of his identity; born as a slave, raised by another
people with a different set of beliefs and culture, bred in privilege with the
best education available, his inner passion being provoked at the mistreatment
of his Hebrew brothers. Moses had to
come with terms with the fact that at the core of his being he was either a “favored
son of Egypt or the son of Hebrew slaves.”
I think it’s also fair to say, per Gottlieb, that “both
identities were present under the surface in some blended, inchoate form, but
to date neither had emerged with a distinctiveness of clarity.” It would seem then that when “he
went forth to his brethren, and saw the anguish of their souls, and the
greatness of their toil,” as we read in the Aramaic Midrashic Targum, his
inner being was made to finally resolve that inner tension. According to the Sefat Emet, Rabbi Yehudah
Leib Alter says of Moses that he was now participating in the pain of the
community when he “saw into their suffering” (Exodus 2:11), making him
prepared to “lead the people into redemption.”
But I do not think that Moses woke up one day and said, “hey I am a Jew,”
but more than likely was told along the way by his adopted mom, Pharaoh’sdaughter, Bat-yah (daughter of God), her faithfulness earned the words
of God according to a Midrash that teaches, “Moses was not your son, yet you called him your son; you
are not My daughter, but I call you My daughter” (Lev. Rabbah 1:3; also Exodus 2:6).
Moses was not unaware of his roots but now life asked him to identify in
a new direction with the community of his birth.
The two Hebrew slaves, in this case,
who Moses defended that day become the representatives of Israel’s suffering in
slavery that was epitomized in the, הַסְּנֶה בֹּעֵר
בָּאֵשׁ, the burning bush (Exodus 3) In the Sefat Emet the idea of “exile” (galut)
and “revelation” (hitgalut) are connected because of their shared
root. The experience of the bush revealed
to Moses that in the same way he was in “exile” from his own community Israel who
was suffering in slavery was exiled from their own freedom. But Exodus wants the
reader to know that this was not just a physical freedom but one that existed on
a spiritual realm understood in the mystery of the bush itself. Rabbi Abraham Isaac Cook teaches that when we
strive to understand what is beyond the rational in precise terms it will be
blurred by human limitations. In other
words I am not sure we can truly explain away the mystery of the bush, but we
are asked to wrestle with it. In short,
Moses clearly had a personal revelation about his purpose and identity as he
stood before the bush that day, which changed the whole of Jewish history, not to mention his own.
Moses did not grow up in a Jewish
home, he did not go to yeshiva or attend camp, able to recite the Birkat
Hamazon (blessing of gratitude said) after a meal, familiar with the ways and customs
of his own people, but yet he was one of the greatest Jews who ever lived. Sure I can trace my own journey to that
moment in time when like Moses my Jewish self-woke up and I was compelled to
live and learn a certain way, but this also contains a spiritual message that
is much bigger than whether one is a Jew or not. The fact is that all people will stand before
a proverbial bush where each will see a flame that is not burning, standing on
the outside looking in, inviting us to explore our inner worlds and highest values
in every stage of life, ultimately reminding us that home is where the heart is. Welcome to the book of Exodus.
Shabbat
Shalom
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