A Role In Redemption: B’shalach 2018

A Role In Redemption: B’shalach

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

January 26, 2018

This week’s Torah portion, B’shalach (Exodus 13:17—17:16) is filled with enough stories and lessons for a whole year’s worth of sermons.  In this portion we read of the manna from heaven; the water that bursts forth from the rock; Israel’s ongoing and seemingly endless battle with its evil adversary, Amalek; and, of course, front and center—the spectacular parting of the Red Sea.

But tonight I would like to focus on something else: not an image, not a miracle, not even the debate between God’s hand vs. human hands in causing miracles and delivering victories.  Rather, tonight I would have us focus on the opening of this portion, particularly the verb that gives it its name: B’shalach.  “When he sent forth.”  The “he” in this case is Pharaoh, and the action this verb describes is the release of the Israelites from Egyptian slavery.  Thus, B’shalach Par’o et ha’am,  “When Pharaoh let the people go.”

A question is raised by the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, may the memory of the righteous be a blessing.  Why is Pharaoh given credit for releasing the Israelites? It wasn’t of his own free will, after all.  Didn’t God harden Pharaoh’s heart to the point where he had no choice but to let the Israelites go?

Expressing both kindness and wisdom, as well as the Chassidic belief in the goodness inherent in every aspect of God’s creation, the Rebbe answers his question by teaching that while some people “express their positive intent from the outset, others like Pharaoh, require effort and even transformation before their positive qualities come to the surface.”  The Rebbe gives even Pharaoh credit!

In light of world events, and human behavior in general, this is a difficult philosophy to accept.  We don’t often see evil people transform into saints.  At times evil intentions do turn out to have exactly the opposite result, but rarely because of a change of heart. Much more likely is a miscalculation, an error in the planning or execution, or perhaps because of the intervention of some outside force.

Still, the word, b’shalach, implies that even the wicked Pharaoh, who had commanded the killing of innocent children, had some goodness within him, some lofty—if unrecognized— purpose that moved him to free the Israelite slaves.  Compare this instance with another story where the same verb, shalach, is used. This occurs earlier in the Torah, the story of Noah.  In search of hope and some dry ground, Noah releases—shalach, sends forth—a dove. The Torah describes Noah as a righteous man, and this action speaks volumes about the love and compassion that Noah had in his heart. 

Not so Pharaoh, however.  What noble purpose moved Pharaoh to release his slaves? What hope for redemption did he have in his heart? Up until that moment, his arrogance and stubbornness had done nothing but bring misery to his people and country.  At this point, with his own first-born child lying dead before him, was there anything but despair and hopelessness to look forward to?

Or was there more to him, some remnant of humanity, a touch of the spark of tzelem Elohim—God’s sacred Image—lying dormant, deep within his hardened heart?

The righteous Lubavitcher Rebbe believed that within every entity, within everything that exists, a measure of goodness can be found, if looked for hard enough. Even Pharaoh.

I envy this belief and such perfect faith. 

And yet, goodness can come out even out of the whirlwind.

The good that emerged from the tragedy and devastation that Pharaoh had brought upon himself and upon all Egypt was the birth of the Jewish Nation. 

It is possible that B’shalach points not necessarily to a transformation in Pharaoh’s nature, but rather to his fatalistic realization that he must obey God’s command. Shalach et ‘ami, spoke God, “Let my people go.” Shalach, send forth, liberate, release. Brought to his knees, Pharaoh realizes that he has no choice but to bend to God’s will.  He no longer has the will or ability to impede the trajectory of history’s imperative, and so he becomes one with it and liberates the Israelites. God’s command, Shalach, becomes Pharaoh’s b’shalach.

The teaching that everything and everyone in God’s world has a function and purpose, is one of Judaism’s great lessons.  Pharaoh’s role was to help bring about the birth of the Jewish People.  He wasn’t particularly happy about it, but ultimately he had no choice but to play his part.

The lesson the Lubavitcher Rebbe would have us learn from this story is to be willing partners in God’s work; to learn to recognize that within us—and, despite all seeming evidence to the contrary, within others—lies embedded the potential for goodness.

It isn’t an easy teaching.  We plead weakness, or perhaps are too proud to see the good in others. Anger and hate stand in our way.  Our faith is too feeble. After all, even Moses was at first reluctant to heed God’s call.  Yet this recognition, this understanding that every being has a role to play in God’s larger plans, ultimately only results in bringing greater light, more goodness and hope both into our own lives, and also to the entire world around us.

Perhaps this is the transformation that the Rebbe speaks about: For if even Pharaoh was capable of this realization, how much more so we, who are steeped in love, kindness and compassion.

May we all come to recognize the potential for holiness implanted within us and within all beings. May each moment bring with it the opportunity to bring righteousness into this world.  And may we all be willing partners, each of us playing his or her part in God’s great vision of a world filled with light and holiness for all.

© 2018 by Boaz D. Heilman