Thursday, December 27, 2018

In Just Five Verses (Shemos)


The narratives of the Torah, from creation through the Exodus, cover an incredibly intense time period. A lot of things happen and so taking an extra look at where the text focuses can lead to particularly interesting. For instance, the dialogue between Yosef and Yehuda is repeated. On the other hand, moments that one would expect to be discussed in detail are covered only briefly. An excellent example of this brevity is the incident when Moshe slays an Egyptian taskmaster and is called out on it and ends up fleeing Pharaoh and Egypt. All of that takes place in five verses.

11: Some time after that, when Moses had grown up, he went out to his kinsfolk and witnessed their labors. He saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, one of his kinsmen.
12: He turned this way and that and, seeing no one about, he struck down the Egyptian and hid him in the sand.
13:When he went out the next day, he found two Hebrews fighting; so he said to the offender, “Why do you strike your fellow?”
14: He retorted, “Who made you chief and ruler over us? Do you mean to kill me as you killed the Egyptian?” Moses was frightened and thought: Then the matter is known!
15: Now the priest of Midian had seven daughters. They came to draw water and filled the troughs to water their father’s flock;

The verses of Shemos 2:11-15 are rather surprising really. From the narrative perspective Moshe has just been set up for a charmed life as the adopted son of Pharaoh’s daughter – and that life is totally ignored in the text because it was all false. Instead, the Torah jumps right into a scene of murder! One almost feels as if one has been dropped into a vigilante movie scene.

These verses, however, are a pivotal moment in Moshe’s life. (Ok, there were a lot of pivotal moments.) One could read this text and cheer at Moshe for stepping up for justice, rather than look at it as his casting away of his Egyptian privilege, but this was the moment that he broke his connection to the Egyptian he was being groomed to be. The fact that the text says he “went out to his brethren” implies his awareness of his connection to the Hebrews. Interestingly, the Torah does not reveal exactly how much he understood this connection. At this point in his life he might have felt only the vague connection of knowing he was of Hebraic origin or he might have really wished to know his biological family. Perhaps he was drawn to his heritage but did not know how to come closer to the Hebrews  since his position in life was so far from theirs.

In a way, it is reminiscent of the position of so many Jews in the last few generations who were raised away from their heritage. Many have sought a way to connect, but not all of them were able to take those steps.

In a book based on the commentaries of the Ramchal, there is an interesting idea that explains that the reason that Pharaoh wanted to kill Moshe was that when Pharaoh heard that Moshe had spoken the holy name of God (Midrashic explanation for how the taskmaster died), Pharaoh understood that Moshe was still attached to the kedusha (holiness) that was an anathema to the avodah zarah that was the foundation of Egyptian life. First, he recognizes his connection to the Hebrew slaves, his brethren, then he connects to kedusha.

But the next day, his sudden elevation to a connection with the Jewish people is not met with warmth. When he comes upon the quarreling Hebrews, he is rejected, pushed away and rebuked. Shouldn’t the men have been somewhat welcoming? You might respond that they were upset and were interrupted in the midst of arguing, but they appear to present a unified reaction against Moshe. You might presume that they responded in fear, but a frightened person would not be so confrontational. No, these two men were stuck in their places and were thus resentful and angry that a man they wished to perceive as Egyptian was showing such a deep connection to kedusha. Here was a man who was not afraid to stand up to the Egyptian world in which he had been raised, here was a man who looked at the Jewish world and saw brethren. Alas, it is easy to live a Jewish life and be afraid of the passion of another person. If we are honest, it's something that we see in our own era and not just in reactions to baalei teshuva and gerim but often to people who are judged as extreme in their observance.

So why was this important moment so sparsely discussed? I can't answer that. But I can enjoy this opportunity to speculate :).  


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