Three insights came to me as I read the Torah portion, Beshalach, this week. The first stems from the phrase
כִּי אֲשֶׁר רְאִיתֶם אֶת מִצְרַיִם הַיּוֹם לֹא תֹסִפוּ לִרְאֹתָם עוֹד עַד עוֹלָם
“As you have seen the Egyptians until today, you will never see them this way again.”
The Biblical authors knew that our perception of our heritage matters a great deal. Oppressed people across the globe – Zainichi Koreans in Japan, African-American and Native-American peoples in the U.S – perform lower academically than their counterparts with no history of severe oppression in the land where they reside. This is true even for peoples whose governments have attempted to make restitution through progressive policies. It is true for peoples who perform much higher in other countries altogether such as Koreans in Korea and Afro-Britains in Britain. The argument is easily made that generations-deep memory profoundly matters.
That may be the reason the Biblical account goes to such lengths to make sure we know nothing was given to us by the Egyptians and that G-d hardened Pharaoh’s heart. It was not their generosity nor magnanimity through which we gained our freedom, but through G-d’s will that we took it. We are G-d’s people and go forth in strength and confidence in whatever land we travel. Yes, our people have been oppressed time and time again in country after country, but to paraphrase Maya Angelou, still we rise. We know we will because the origin of our freedom is the strength of G-d’s hand when G-d delivered us from the Egyptians.
This helps us understand differently the perspective of leaders such as Malcolm X and Stokely Carmichael who advocated for a forceful approach to demanding rights. Thank goodness for Dr. King who showed that demanding one’s rights with strength can happen without violence. Thank goodness for Nelson Mandela who turned from violence to nonviolence to win, and no one doubts Madiba’s strength. The Torah’s message is not that violence is necessary, but that a narrative of our ancestor’s strength rather than weakness, as agents of our destiny rather than recipients of charity, is necessary to bequeath to later generations if they are to march forward with the pride we hope for them.
Second, I love the concept of The Omer. The Omer is just enough food. If our ancestors gathered too much, the extra went bad. This may well be the root of the idea “from each according to ability, to each according to need” which formed the philosophy of kibbutzim and communism. It informs thinking in education today when we recognize that equal is not equitable. Often in explaining this concept to students, we talk about glasses. Not everyone needs glasses in order to see and so not everyone has them. Not everyone needs a listening device, not everyone needs to meet twice a day with the teacher. An ephah is ten times an Omer, ten times what is just enough, ten times what each needs.
Third, many look to the story of Moses for allegories about leadership. G-d tells Moses to strike the rock in this portion, not to talk to it, and Moses does without repercussion. Later, the children of Israel cry out to Moses again and G-d tells Moses to talk to the rock and he strikes it. The rabbis comment that because Moses did not follow G-d’s instructions and became angry and acted in a way that made it appear he had the power, he was not allowed to enter the land of Israel. Perhaps this is only part of the story. Perhaps Moses acted out of patterned behavior rather than attuned behavior. He wasn’t listening carefully. That which led G-d to choose him, that he stopped to notice that the burning bush remained unconsumed, he no longer had.
G-d chose Moses, the sages tell us, because he stopped and noticed that the burning bush was not consumed. It was not that G-d had sent the burning bush as a sign, but that Moses saw something different than what others would have. He stopped and took notice where everyone else might have passed by what they would have thought of as a common occurrence – a little fire in a dessert. Maybe the story of striking the rock instead of speaking to it offers a different way of understanding a facet of G-d’s choice not to let him cross into the promised land. When he struck the rock a second time, maybe it was because he had struck the rock once before and so struck it again. Perhaps Moses’ muscle memory took over and swayed his movements more than even G-d’s spoken word. Perhaps one reason Moses had to step down was because he was no longer awake to, alert to alive to G-d’s slightly different instruction, and therefore was no longer sufficiently attuned to lead the people into the promised land.