This sedra, parashat Bo, celebrates the almost complete freedom of the slaves after many, many, many years of being held in captivity under the wicked hand of Pharaoh. During our Passover Seder(s) we read a prayer called the Vehi Sheamda, which says, “And it is [the Torah] that has stood by our ancestors and for us. For not only one [enemy] has risen up against us to destroy us, but in every generation they rise up to destroy us. But the Holy Blessed One delivers us from their hands.” This is unfortunately a prayer of truth; as Jews we have enemies, but as a way of life Judaism is a faith of hope that will always believe in better possibilities for tomorrow. As Jews we know there will always be “pharaohs” in our world, whether it be Hamas, Hezbollah or the Houthis. Yet we will not allow for a culture that is okay with hate. We will not sit quietly as others see October 7th as if it was a normal event or an isolated occurrence.
Every Friday night, on Erev Shabbat, we recite the Kiddush that in part says “zecher litziat Mitzrayim,” recalling when God took the Jews out of Egypt. Jewish parlance views “Egypt” as our week that is full of responsibilities and obligations, whereas the Shabbat is a day that we can be free from those things that rule over us during the week. But the Shabbat is also a reminder of the hope that a day will come where we will be completely free, and even if not in our lifetime, we hope for the day when freedom is the norm; the idea of hope is laced throughout Jewish prayer. Regarding hope, Cantor Cheryl Wunch writes, "Hope is an intangible, somewhat undefinable, esoteric concept. It's a word that we all use, and yet likely means something different to each of us. We are told not to lose hope, not to get our hopes up, and that all we can do is hope. Hope is not a feeling, nor is it an action. Hope is just a thought, and most times, a fleeting one.” Cantor Wunch tells us that hope will become “fleeting,” to which I will add happens when our hope is only measured by a narrow set of expectations. But when we realize that hope is learned, nuanced and experienced, we also see that it (hope) has the ability to become sustainable.
Both in Va’era last week and Bo this week we find that Moses needed hope. Moses was a fugitive, always looking over his shoulder when he met the divine at a bush, only to be asked to be THE advocate for Israel's freedom. Moses also struggled with being slow in speech and questioned whether the people or Pharaoh would even listen to him. In the end Moses made the decision that despite all those things he elected to stand upon his Jewish sense of duty and obligation, not to mention his trust in God who he encountered, making them the foundation of his sense of hope. In turn Moses then asked Israel to do the same by putting their trust in God although life had brought them to despair. This was accomplished through the story of the wonders Israel experienced, what we call the ten plagues. The final plague also begins our first taste of communal ritualized religion as we recall the Exodus yearly, to include the plagues during the Passover season. What we shall see is the Lamb was tied into Israel's hope as they journey into the future.
Jewish freedom began by eating the Paschal Lamb and putting its blood on the door-post and lintel of the homes (in Torah “blood” is a sign of purity because it represents life). They also ate with the lamb the maror, bitter herb (12:7-8), as well as the bread that did not rise, matzot (12:29). But the Passover was only one night, and for the next seven days they only ate matzot, what we call Chag HaMatzot, the festival of unleavened bread (13:6-7). Finally we learn that to partake in the Passover both Jew and the Egyptian had to be circumcised (12:44). In the Talmud (Pesachim 70b), regarding the Paschal lamb in particular, “the Merciful One says: “And you shall slaughter the Paschal offering,” the lamb sacrificed was important enough to stand on its own. Here we further recall that the lamb sacrificed was distinct from the rest of the offerings (see Ex. 12:5). Why? It was personal. The Paschal lamb was the only sacrifice that was slaughtered by the Israelites as opposed to the priests. The offering of the lamb became a personal act to identify with its meaning. What for? The lamb “shall be to you one of remembrance,” the day to recall a deliverance from slavery. How come? Because the lamb reinforced the idea of hope (the meaning), which is why “On the first day you shall celebrate a sacred occasion” (Lev. 23:7). What they celebrated is the hope that there would only be better tomorrows and no one would ever be forced to be slaves again. We celebrate the same thing even if slavery may mean something else to us.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks - of Blessed memory - writes that “Judaism is a religion of details, but we miss the point if we do not sometimes step back and see the larger picture.'' The details of the Paschal Lamb, the maror and the matzot are just details, but the bigger picture is “hope.” The lamb is replaced by its lessons. Moses was Israel's partner in hope just as we are partners for others who have lost hope along the way. The same hope that Moses had for Israel's release from captivity, and the same hope that after 116 days of captivity (as of Shabbat) the hostages will come home from Gaza, is the same hope that needs to journey with us each and everyday.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam Ruditsky
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