Vaera 2008

The Baton Rouge Film Festival is a wonderful thing. Not only does it bring Jews together for a wonderful cultural experience, but it also provides us with a window on the lives of those whose Jewish experience is very unlike our own. We have seen everything from an Orthodox comedian in Jerusalem to a Jewish criminal trying to survive in a Nazi concentration camp.

There are two great strengths to being Jewish. One is the diversity of the Jewish experience. Every Jew in every place and in every time period has a different experience.

The other great strength is what we all have in common. From the North, from the South, from 16th century Rome, from 9th century Bagdad, convert, rabbi, or non-practicing, we are all a family. That is what makes the differences so interesting. And we all share prayers, Shabbat candles, holidays, and most of all Torah.

Because Passover is the most widely observed holiday in Judaism, the part of the Torah that we are now reading is very familiar to most of us. Children around the world can say the the names of the ten plagues: דם, צפרדע... If they don’t know them in Hebrew, they know them in their own language. Blood. Frogs. Lice... And if you don’t know them in order, or if you don’t know all ten, you still know a few of them.

In this week’s Torah portion, Vaera, we have the first seven of the ten plagues. In two weeks the Israelites will go free, only to be trapped at the Sea of Reeds. Just when it seemed that all was lost, the sea will part, and the Israelites will march through. When the Egyptian soldiers march through, the sea will return to it’s natural place, and all of the Egyptians will drown.

The Israelites sing and dance. Our prayer מי כמוך is based on their song. The midrash tells us that the angels also begin to sing and dance, and the Holy One, blessed be He, silences them. “My children are dying, and you are singing?’ Gd says.

One of my students asked a very interesting question the other day. If Gd silences the angels, why doesn’t He also silence the Israelites? 

My answer was not so good. I said ‘Well, here are these people who thought they were about to be killed, and they were saved by a miracle at the last minute. You have to cut them some slack, let them rejoice, let them sing a little.’

But it made me think. And it made me think also about the plagues. The message of the midrash is that we must not forget that the Egyptians are also Gd’s children. How are we supposed to feel about the plagues?

The plagues occur because one man, Pharaoh, refuses to let the Israelites go. But of all the Egyptians, Pharaoh probably suffers the least. When the Nile turns to blood, Pharaoh can drink wine or juice. What can the ordinary Egyptians drink? When giant pieces of hail are falling, Pharaoh can stay indoors. What about the people who must be out working? What about the people who live in huts with flimsy roofs, that will not keep the hail out?

The rabbis justify the plagues on the Egyptians, saying that they all cooperated in and benefitted from the enslavement of the Jews. The Nile turning to blood and the death of the first-born son are retribution for the command, carried out, to throw all Hebrew male babies into that very river.

 The people do acquiesce to what Pharaoh is doing. They don’t rise up and overthrow him. Why should they? He is a pretty good Pharaoh. So he doesn’t treat the Jews well, but why should the Egyptians care about the Jews? It is only when those plagues come that the ordinary people might have reason to doubt the wisdom of the course Pharaoh has taken. By then, it is perhaps too late.

It is difficult to think of this story of the plagues and not see parallels to what has been happening in Gaza. The people of Gaza are trying to recover from a plague as great as any in this week’s parasha. Many people died because their roofs could not keep out the deadly hail, while their leaders, the Hamas Pharaohs, stayed safe in underground bunkers. Just like Pharaoh.

The events in our Torah portion have a very concrete goal: To free the Israelite slaves from Egypt. Operation Cast Lead also had a concrete goal: To stop Hamas from sending rockets and mortars into Israel, targeting civilians. But both the Exodus and the recent battle in Gaza had less concrete goals as well.

Many of us are uncomfortable with the idea that Gd unleashed the plagues  וְהִרְבֵּיתִי אֶת־אֹתֹתַי וְאֶת־מוֹפְתַי בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם, to multiply My signs and marvels in the land of Egypt... וְיָדְעוּ מִצְרַיִם כִּי־אֲנִי יי so that the Egyptians shall know that I am the Eternal. Must people suffer and die just for that? 

And one of the objectives of ‘Operation Cast Lead’ was to let Hamas and other enemies know that the Israeli Army is also still capable of signs and wonders. How then should this make us feel?

And how should we feel, in both cases, about the deaths of the innocent?

Nobody suggests that the concrete goals were not worthwhile. We cannot say that Gd should have left the Israelites in Egypt to avoid hurting the innocent Egyptians. Nor can we say that the Israelis should have just let Hamas continue to bomb them without responding. But let us remember the words of the midrash: My children are dying, says Gd. This is not a time for singing. This is not a time for rejoicing. This is a time for soul searching and introspection. This is a time for sorrow, and above all, a time to recommit ourselves in our own hearts for finding a political solution, a peaceful solution.

To paraphrase Golda Meir, it is a terrible thing that Hamas tries to kill our children. A terrible thing, but one we can understand, and some day try to forgive. What is worse is the tragedy that we find ourselves forced to kill their children.

May Gd soon bring a day when no one will want to or be forced to kill a child. May it be Gd’s will that the current ceasefire will lead to a truce, the truce will lead to a peace, and the peace, someday, to brotherhood. Please join me in saying כן יהי רצון.