רפואה מן התור
Healing from the Torah
By Rabbi Adam Ruditsky
This
parsha begins with the ongoing dialog between God and Moses after הַסְּנֶה
בֹּעֵר בָּאֵשׁ (has’s’neh bo’ayr ba’aish), the burning bush,
where he is told in Exodus 6:2, “I appeared (va’eira) to Abraham,
Isaac, and Jacob as El Shaddai, but I did not make Myself known to them by My
name יהוה,” or Adonai/LORD. Is that really the case? In Genesis 12:1 it says, “The LORD
(יהוה) said to Abram;” in Genesis 26:2 we
read, “The
LORD (יהוה) appeared (va’eira) to him (Isaac,
see 26:1); and in Genesis 28:13 in the midst of his dream Jacob
connects with God who is to have said, “I am the LORD (יהוה), the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac.” These three occurrences (among many) tell the
reader that יהוה, Adonai/LORD,
existed before Moses had his encounter at the bush, The LORD (יהוה) had already appeared, spoke and announced; so
what is different now? Rabbi Ozer
Glickman, of blessed memory, who was a teacher of Talmud and Halakha (Jewish
law), asks the question, “was the name of יהוה
(Adonai)
really unknown to the Avot,” or our fathers Abraham, Isaac and Jacob?|
The great Medieval Rabbi, Rashi,
writes that of course The LORD (יהוה)
was known to Abraham,
Isaac and Jacob, making sure to point out that the Torah does not say לֹא הוֹדַעְתִי (lo ho’dati), “I did not tell
[them],” but לֹא נוֹדַעְתִי (lo no’dati),
“I have not yet become known [to them].”
Looking to more than one Midrash, Rabbi Glickman goes on to say that the
reason why that was the case was because the Avot did not ask what Moses
did. Back in Shemot when he encountered
God in the bush remember Moses asks, מַה־שְּׁמ֔וֹ
מָ֥ה אֹמַ֖ר אֲלֵהֶֽם (mah sh’mo, omar a’lay’hem), “what
should I tell them is your name?”
God responds in the most opaque of ways by saying, אֶֽהְיֶ֖ה אֲשֶׁ֣ר אֶֽהְיֶ֑ה (Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh), “I will be which I
will be.” In that same Midrashic
tradition God tells Moses to inform the people that Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh
will be with them both in bondage and kingship, a strange but comforting
concept for them I assume. Glickman is
suggesting that the reason why the Avot did not know God like Moses was
because there was no need, and the promises made to the Avot would be
fulfilled under the leadership of Moses (i.e. becoming a people).
But this is not about whether the Avot
knew or did not know God like Moses, but why did Moses have to know God, as
Moses? If I grew up like Moses, a Jew
being raised in the ways of Egypt while learning about a multitude of dieties,
I’d surely ask this unknown God who was residing in a burning bush, מַה־שְּׁמ֔וֹ (mah sh’mo), what’s your name! I do not think that the Avot had the
same experience with multiple gods like Moses so there was need for
clarification per se. yet in this case
Moses and Pharaoh both had their own existential encounter with God that
demanded a response. Last week we saw
how Moses responded to the bush and this week we see how Pharaoh respond to the
נִפְלָאוֹת (niflahot), the wonders, the beginning of the
plagues (Exodus 7:10ff). Moses in his
response said, הִנֵּנִי (hin’nayni) “here
am I” and took his sandless off (Exodus 3:5), whereas וַיֶּחֱזַק לֵב פַּרְעֹה (vay’yehcha’zak layv Pharoh), “Pharaoh
hardened his heart” and made the people continue in their oppression
(Exodus 7:13).
Norman Fischer, a Jewish Zen
Buddhist Priest, helps us to understand indirectly what happened with Moses and
Pharaoh in a unique way. Fischer writes
of our current world, “And we don’t assume that our picture of the world is the
way the world has to look,” which is what happened to Moses. Moses saw the suffering of two Hebrews and
responded in passion (Exodus 2:11), realizing at the bush that Israel’s would
of slavery did not have to be, wanting to be a part of the solution. Fischer calls this “spaciousness,” looking
beyond the obvious for the better even if getting there may include suffering
along the way. Although Fischer does not
use this word, the opposite of “spaciousness” is narrowness. The Kabbalist’s teach from Zohar that this
narrowness represents Egypt. Moses
came from Egypt, Mitzrayim, a place of murder and fear, destruction and
lack, power and greed. In the Zohar we
learn that the word Mitzrayim (מִצְרַ֖יִם)
for the mystics was/is divided into two; mi (מִ)
meaning “from” and tzar (צַר)
meaning “narrow” or “tight.”
In this case Moses emerged from a מִצַר
(mitzar), a “narrow-straight,” a place of narrowness and
confinement, recognizing that as he stood at the bush its’s fire revealed the
darkness of where he came from. Then
there is Pharaoh, a man who thought of himself to be a god, a ruler over people who responded to him out of appeasement and fear, a man who felt threatened by the
God of Moses and the possibility of losing his imprisoned work-force and money
makers. Pharaoh reacted to the wonders
with hardness and callousness, the Midrash teaching that he became burdened in
anger (Exodus Rabbah 9:8). Pharaoh
traveled the narrow path, only seeing himself and not others, immune to their
their pain or rightful equality. Moses
operated in the spaciousness of love and Pharaoh operated in the narrowness
of hate.
Moses had a different role than the Avot
that apparently meant he needed a different understanding and experience with
God. Moses contended with things that the
Avot did not have do, and what he saw elevated him to a sense purpose
then and there. Yet as we consider the
paths of spaciousness and narrowness let’s just reflect on what
the last few years has taught, albeit in this pandemic or our political
outlook, how the narrowness of people has impacted the brokenness of society,
in many ways revealing our own Mitzrayim that demands a healing of our shattered
diversity. But Moses stands as a symbol
of freedom, choosing spaciousness, turning his back on the
narrow-straits of Egypt, seeking redemption for the suffering of others, even
as he struggled with his own fear of failure.
There is the famous line made into
many melodies by Rabbi Nachman of Breslov that says,כל
העולם כולו גשר צר מאוד והעיקר לא לפחד כלל (Kol ha-olam kulo
gesher tzar m'od v'ha-ikkar lo lefached klal), "The whole entire world is
a very narrow bridge and the main thing is to have no fear
at all," words that can poignantly speak to us today. Fear is one of those things that is always there,
albeit the fear of what we see around us currently or just the fear of growing
old, either with self or in support of others, on that bridge walking through
the narrowness of fear while choosing a path of spaciousness. Narrowness of fear does not have to win, and
while it might take time - just like with the narrowness of Pharaoh - it will
be defeated. God, our higher values, and
our desires will appear before us, inviting us like Moses here in Va’eira
to choose the better way, looking beyond what he saw to a world how he wanted it
to look. We have to do the same.
Shabbat
Shalom
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