Take Up Thy Staff

Take Up Thy Staff
D’var Torah for Parashat Va-‘era (Exodus 6:2—9:35)
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

Israel, Friday, late afternoon. The setting sun’s rays, peeking through the clouds, create a kaleidoscope of reds, oranges and pinks. A few moments earlier, a passing shower blessed the parched land with a few drops. Not enough to make much difference to the fields, but sufficient to clear the air some.

Shabbat is about to set in. Young couples, fathers with their children, walk to synagogues where they will sing their welcome to this blessed day of rest. With smiles on their faces, they seem confident of their way and faith. It must be because they live in Israel, the Promised Land. It’s a privilege they are certain of, one that lightens their heart as well as their step.

Yet, throughout our history, living in Israel had been a dream—or perhaps even less: a vision. Each year, at the end of the Passover seder, generations of Jews would proclaim their faith: Next year in Jerusalem! Sometimes this phrase would rise like a song—proud and joyful. Other times, it would be whispered secretively, with furtive glances thrown in every direction to see who might be listening.

There were times when doubt would silence the words altogether, when terrible suffering made the vision disappear behind a veil of tears. Here and there, a prayer would be uttered by an individual or two, almost desperately, while others around would cast accusing looks: How could prayer cut through the fires and clouds of smoke? Could a song—any song, let alone one expressing hope!—rise above the misery and not fall back down to earth as ashen flakes?

As this week’s parasha, Va-‘era (“I [God] appeared,” Ex. 6:2—9:35) opens, Moses expresses his doubts and weakness. How could he, a mere mortal (the Torah is careful to spell out his humble, human lineage), stand up to Pharaoh, born of the gods themselves? Moses’s first attempts had failed miserably. He sees the terrible suffering of the Israelites as Pharaoh rejects God’s call to let them go and, in fact, imposes even greater hardships on them. Worse yet, it isn’t only Pharaoh who refuses to listen to Moses; it’s the Israelites themselves: “But they did not heed Moses because of anguish of spirit and cruel bondage” (Ex. 6:9). And who could blame them?

Moses doesn’t doubt God. He saw the burning bush; he heard God’s voice speaking to him directly. It’s his own ability to make a difference that Moses doubts: “I speak with faltering lips” (Ex. 6:12, 6:30).

But God persists: I am the one who appeared to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Yes, answers Moses; but they were of impeccable faith, men who set an impossible example for the rest of us. Moreover, they weren’t enslaved, persecuted or hunted. Look around: When was the last time you appeared to these people, so oppressed that they are afraid to look up, let alone stand tall and free.

There is a time for everything—a time to argue, a time to be silent. Now comes the time for action. “Take up thy staff,” God orders. It’s time to show Pharaoh who’s boss.

The parasha progresses from plague to plague. The Nile turns into blood. Frogs overtake the land, followed by lice, wild beasts, pestilence, boils, then fiery hail. With each new disaster that befalls the Egyptians, however, something else happens to Moses: He grows more confident. Like a child learning to walk, at first he relies on the detailed instructions God gives him. But gradually he finds his own voice, bargaining with Pharaoh, then commanding; relenting and then once again pressing on with ever-growing strength.

Throughout the portion, the Israelites remain an unseen player, silent witness to this historic drama. Yet the struggle cannot be only between Moses and Pharaoh. Much of it happens within the people’s heart and spirit. Downtrodden and hopeless as the parasha begins, they, like Moses, begin to find their motivation. Looking at Moses, they understand that the first step towards freedom is finding one’s inner strength. “Take up thy staff!” The command must have echoed through every Hebrew home. Yes, there were skeptics, people whose doubt overpowered their hope, in whom desperation grew so strong that the dream grew dim and finally died. But once awakened, freedom’s heartbeat can’t be silenced.

In flames and clouds of smoke, the Jewish nation was born.

There would yet be more struggles. Each and every generation would see its own tyrant, raising the specter of that first Pharaoh. Oppression, persecution and danger would follow. But the spark that Moses lit inside the Jewish heart remains alive to this day. We have learned that simply waiting for promises to be fulfilled isn’t enough. Sometimes, in order to make a difference, we must take up our staff and point in the direction of freedom and survival.

That’s what welcoming Shabbat in Israel is all about. It’s about lighting candles and watching the light reflect in children’s eyes. It’s about sipping the strong wine; about dipping the sweet challah in salt; about understanding that, just as life’s sweetness is always tempered by tears, so can its doubts and bitterness be sweetened by the blessings of love and faith.

Shabbat shalom. May it be a Sabbath of peace for all.

©2010 by Boaz D. Heilman