The parshah of Sh’mos is the story of a galus — of the exile and enslavement of the Children of Israel in Egypt, which our sages regard as the father and prototype of all subsequent exiles and persecutions of the Jewish people. It is also the story of the making of the quintessential Jewish leader, Moshe.
Everything the Torah tells us about Moshe is a lesson in Jewish leadership. We are told that Moshe’s mother, Yocheved, was born “between the boundary walls” of Egypt when Yaakov’s family first arrived there. This, explains the Lubavitcher Rebbe, means that Yocheved belongs neither to the “old generation” born in the Holy Land, to whom galus will always be a foreign and unknowable world; nor is she of the generation born in Egypt, to whom the state of exile is a most natural and obvious fact of life. Rather, she straddles both these worlds, meaning that she has intimate knowledge of the circumstance of galus as well as the transcendent vision to supersede it. So Yocheved is the woman in whose womb could be formed, and under whose tutelage could develop, the one who could redeem the Children of Israel from their exile.
The circumstances of Moshe’s birth are a lesson in the selflessness demanded of the leader. Yocheved and Amram had separated when Pharaoh decreed that all newborn Hebrew males be cast in the Nile. Their eldest daughter, Miriam, rebuked them: “Your decree is worse than Pharaoh’s: Pharaoh decreed to annihilate the males, and your action shall spell the end of all Jewish children.” Amram and Yocheved realized that, as leaders whose actions would be emulated by others, they had to rise above the personal danger and anguish involved in fathering Jewish children in those terrible times. The result of their remarriage was the birth of Moshe.
Infancy and Childhood
When Moshe is born, the “house was filled with light” attesting to his future as the enlightener of humanity. But right away this light has to be hidden, for he, as all Hebrew newborn males, lives in perpetual fear of discovery by Pharaoh’s baby killers. Then he is placed in the Nile, precariously protected only by a reed basket, sharing, if only in potential, the fate of his fellow babes cast into its waters.
Here we have a further lesson in leadership: the leader cannot appear from “above,” but must share the fate of his people. This was the lesson which G‑d Himself conveyed by first appearing to Moshe in a thorn bush: “I am with them in their affliction.”
But Moshe’s placement in the Nile was not only a demonstration of empathy with the plight of Israel: it was also the first stage of their salvation. Our sages tell us that Pharaoh ordered all Hebrew male babies to be cast into the Nile because his astrologers told him that the savior of Israel will meet his end by water (this prediction was fulfilled many years later when Moshe was prevented from entering the Holy Land because of the “Waters of Strife”). On the day that Moshe was placed in the Nile, Pharaoh’s astrologers informed him that the one destined to redeem the people of Israel has already been cast into the water, and the decree was revoked. As a three-month-old infant, seemingly a passive participant in the events surrounding him, Moshe was already fulfilling his role as a savior of his people.
Thanks to Miriam’s ingenious ploy, Moshe is nursed and raised by his own mother in his early childhood. But then he is brought to Pharaoh’s palace to be raised as a member of the royal family. Moshe must be both Hebrew slave and Egyptian prince. To lead his people, he must share their fate; to defeat the forces that enslave them, he must infiltrate the citadel of Egyptian royalty. He must “come in to Pharaoh” (Sh’mos 10:1) and gain intimate knowledge of the essence of his power and vitality.
Defender of Israel
The first of Moshe’s actions to be explicitly recounted by the Torah delineates two central tasks of the leader: to defend his people from external threat, and to safeguard their internal integrity.
On the day that Moshe attains adulthood, he “goes out to his brothers” and “sees their affliction” — his years in Pharaoh’s palace have not inured him against affinity with this tribe of Hebrew slaves and sensitivity to their plight. He sees an Egyptian beating a Hebrew to death. He is compelled to act, sacrificing, with this single action, his privileged life as a member of the ruling class and binding his fate to that of his brethren.
The very next day Moshe acts again, this time to intervene in a quarrel between two Jews. Seeing two of his brethren in conflict, he suddenly comprehends that the source of their enslavement is not the power of Egypt, but their own internal disunity, and that the key to their redemption lies in fostering a sense of mutual interdependency and responsibility among the members of the fledgling nation of Israel.
From these two demonstrations of leadership one would expect Moshe to proceed directly to his ordained role as leader of Israel. But first he had to become a shepherd.
The Faithful Shepherd
For the role of a leader in Israel is not only to defend, redeem, preach and govern, but also and primarily, to nurture. Moshe is the savior of Israel and their teacher and legislator, but also their raaya meheimna — their “faithful shepherd” and “shepherd of faith”—meaning that he is the provider of their needs, both materially and spiritually, feeding their bodies with manna and feeding their souls with faith.
So Moshe is driven from Egypt to faraway Midian to become a shepherd of Yisro’s sheep. The Midrash relates how another shepherd, David, learned the art of leadership by caring for his father’s flocks: he would have the small kids graze first on the tender tips of grass before allowing the older sheep and goats to feed on the middle portion of the stalks, and only afterwards releasing the strong, young rams to devour the tough roots. A leader cannot simply point the way and a teacher cannot simply teach; he must “shepherd” his flock, supplying to each guidance and knowledge in a manner that can be absorbed and digested by its recipient.
The Midrash also tells how, one day, a kid ran away from the flock under Moshe’s care. Moshe chased after it, until it came to a spring and began to drink. When Moshe reached the kid he cried: “Oh, I did not know that you were thirsty!” He cradled the runaway kid in his arms and carried it to the flock. Said the Almighty: “You are merciful in tending sheep — you will tend My flock, the people of Israel.”
The Lubavitcher Rebbe points out that in addition to demonstrating Moshe’s compassion, the incident holds another important lesson: Moshe realized that the kid did not run away from the flock out of malice or wickedness — it was merely thirsty. By the same token, when a Jew alienates himself from his people, G‑d forbid, it is only because he is thirsty. His soul thirsts for meaning in life, but the waters of Torah have eluded him. So he wanders about in foreign domains, seeking to quench his thirst.
When Moshe understood this, he was able to become a leader of Israel. Only a shepherd who hastens not to judge the runaway kid, who is sensitive to the causes of its desertion, can mercifully lift it into his arms and bring it back home.
The Ultimate Sacrifice
After many years of leadership in the making, the stage is set. He was a Hebrew baby cast into the Nile, an infant at Yocheved’s breast, a young Egyptian prince, a fearless defender of his people, an equally fearless campaigner for Jewish unity, a shepherd in the wilderness. Then G‑d revealed Himself to him in a burning bush to say: I have seen the affliction of My people, I have heard their cries, I know their sorrows. I’m sending you to redeem them. Go, take them out of Egypt, and bring them to Mount Sinai for their election as My chosen people.
Most amazingly, Moshe refuses to go.
He doesn’t just refuse — for seven days and seven nights he argues with G‑d, presenting every conceivable excuse to decline his commission, until “G‑d’s anger burned against Moshe.”
First came the excuse of humility: “Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh, and that I should bring the children of Israel out of Egypt?”
G‑d ends all debate along those lines with the words: “I will be with you.” Can even “the humblest man on the face of the earth” plead unworthiness after that?
But I don’t know Your essence, says Moshe. How can I present myself as a messenger when I can’t explain the nature of the One who sent me?
So G‑d tells him who He is.
They won’t believe me when I say that G‑d sent me.
G‑d rebukes Moshe for slandering His people. Yes, they will believe you. Whatever else you say about them (and there’s lots to say), they are believers. But if you’re not convinced of their faith, here’s a few magic tricks you can perform.
Moshe’s excuses are running out. He tries: But I have a speech impairment. A leader needs to give speeches, you know.
G‑d’s answer is so obvious it hardly needs repeating.
So Moshe finally just cries: O please, my G‑d, don’t send me. “Send by the hand of him whom You shall send.”
Why, indeed, is Moshe acting so strangely? His brothers and sisters are languishing under the taskmaster’s whip; Pharaoh is bathing in the blood of Jewish children. The moment for which the Children of Israel have hoped and prayed for four generations has finally come: G‑d has appeared in a burning bush to say, “I am sending you to redeem My people.” Why does Moshe refuse? Out of humility? Because he’s not a good speaker?
Our sages interpret the words “Send by the hand of him whom You shall send” to mean: send by the hand of him whom You shall send in the end of days, Mashiach, the final redeemer of Israel.
The Chassidic masters explain that Moshe knew that he would not merit to bring Israel into the Holy Land and thereby achieve the ultimate redemption of his people. He knew that Israel would again be exiled, would again suffer the physical and spiritual afflictions of galus (if Moshe himself would have brought the Children of Israel into the Holy Land and built the Holy Temple, they would never have been exiled again and the Temple would never have been destroyed, since “all Moshe’s deeds are eternal”). So Moshe refused to go. If the time for Israel’s redemption has come, he pleaded with G‑d, send the one through whom You will effect the complete and eternal redemption. For seven days and nights Moshe contested G‑d’s script for history, prepared to incur G‑d’s wrath upon himself for the sake of Israel.
(This extreme form of self-sacrifice, in which a man like Moshe jeopardizes his very relationship with G‑d for the sake of his people, was to characterize Moshe’s leadership throughout his life. When the people of Israel sinned by worshipping the Golden Calf, Moshe said to G‑d: “Now, if You will forgive their sin . . . ; and if You will not, blot me out of the Book which You have written.”)
Nor did Moshe ever accept the decree of galus. After assuming, by force of the Divine command, the mission to take Israel out of Egypt, he embarked on a lifelong struggle to make this the final and ultimate redemption. To the very last day of his life, Moshe pleaded with G‑d to allow him to lead his people into the Holy Land; to his very last day he braved G‑d’s anger in his endeavor to eliminate all further galus from Jewish history. In Moshe’s own words: “I beseeched G‑d . . . Please, let me cross over and see the good land across the Jordan, the good mountain (Jerusalem) and the Levanon (the Holy Temple). And G‑d grew angry with me for your sakes . . . and He said to Me: Enough! Speak no more to Me of this matter . . .” (Devarim 4:23–26).
Says the Lubavitcher Rebbe: G‑d said “Enough!” but Moshe was not silenced. For Moshe’s challenge of the Divine plan did not end with his passing from physical life. The Zohar tells us that every Jewish soul has at its core a spark of Moshe’s soul. So every Jew who storms the gates of heaven clamoring for redemption continues Moshe’s struggle against the decree of galus.
Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, zt’l; adapted by R’ Yanki Tauber. Courtesy of Chabad.org. Find more Torah articles for the whole family at Chabad.org/parshah.