Jan 27/07 — Parashat Bo: "Arriving at God"

Commentary by Rabbi Lawrence Pinsker

One of the hidden lessons of the contest between God and Pharaoh is to be in power is both addictive and entrapping. When anyone in authority—let alone the god-king of Egypt!—makes up his or her mind about some matter, it is exceedingly difficult to change one’s course of action. Once gods and kings have made their pronouncements, it would be a sign of indecision or weakness to alter one’s plans.

Still, after seven devastating plagues, Pharaoh is becoming uneasy. When Moses threatens Egypt with a plague of locusts, Pharaoh’s courtiers ask:

“How long shall this man be a snare to us? Let the men go!” (Exodus 10:7)

Pharaoh finally yields to the words of his court advisors and tells Moses to “Go and worship your God!” (Ex. 10:8)—but Pharaoh stipulates that Moses may go only with the Israelite males. Pharaoh is justifiably concerned that Moses will not return to Egypt. In response, Moses declares that not a single Israelite and nothing of their meager personal property will be left behind.

So the locusts descend and are followed by the plague of darkness. Once again, Pharaoh is ready to deal, but this time he declares that Moses may take everything except the Israelites’ herds. Again Moses argues that everything must be taken to worship God because, “We do not know with what we must serve the Lord until we get there.” (Ex. 10:26)

Rabbi Pinchas Peli z’l once suggested that those last words which seem to be purely factual and a statement in a diplomatic negotiation are not so simple. They also are an expression of a profound theological truth: They teach us that when it comes to the worship of God, we cannot always expect ready-made formulas. True worship of God requires constant renewal of wonder and risk-taking in order to rediscover God’s presence under new conditions. “Leaps of faith”—new decision-making, re-examination of old beliefs, and fresh spiritual strategies in responding to the challenges of life can sometimes be more important than tried and true approaches.

In one of the great Jewish teaching stories, Rabbi Chaim of Sandz, a Chassidic master who lived in the 19th century, once observed his disciplines walking past his window in the beis midrash, the house of study.

“Yossele, come here!” he called to one of them, who hastened to his teacher’s side. “Tell me, if you were to come across a wallet full of money on the Shabbat—when a Jew is not allowed to carry or even touch money—what would you do? Would you pick it up?”

“Of course not,” Yossele, the young Chassid quickly answered.

“Then you are a fool!” Reb Chaim of Sandz declared. He beckoned for another student to approach. “And you—what would you do in a similar situation? Would you pick up the wallet full of money and take it with you?”

“Oh yes!” replied the second young Chassid, after hearing the reprimand with which Reb Chaim had dismissed his fellow student.

“You sinner, you!” Reb Chaim said, scolding the second Chassid. Then he asked a third student: “And you—what would you do?”

Having heard Reb Chaim’s rebuke directed at his two classmates, the third Chassidic student replied cautiously: “My teacher, my master, in truth I do not know. On finding the wallet filled with money, I would struggle with myself in deciding whether or not to take it. I hope that in the moment I would be able to make the right decision, one that would honour God and Torah. But in truth I cannot say what I would do.”

“At last!” Reb Chaim shouted. “At last we have the real and honest answer!” Turning to all his disciples, Reb Chaim said, “Truly, we shall not know how to worship God ‘until we get there.’”

All of life is training for the moment when we are faced with difficult choices, unruly emotions, and the uncertainty that always accompanies our journeys into the unknown. Only when we are in the moment of “arriving at God” do we discover who we really are and whether we have prepared adequately to face what is new, unexpected, and previously unimaginable with freshness, reverence, and integrity. We pray for the flexibility and inventiveness that enable us to escape all the snares and habits of thought that imprison so much of life in tedium, as though there were nothing new about the moment. Sometimes we just can’t believe that it’s our own attitude and habits of thought that obscure the uniqueness of each moment of life.

There is a saying: “Each day dawns only once.” For Moses and the Israelites departing Egypt, surely there is no greater wonder than the moment when they realize their dreams of freedom are at last becoming reality.

Shabbat Shalom.