The Cry of Redemption

Moshe Kempinski

The story of redemption always begins with disappointment. The morning seems to always begin in the night, "and it was evening and it was morning, one day." (Genesis 1:5) The greatest blessing seems to always be preceded by wilderness. Why is that so?

After hundreds of years of slavery, the children of Israel in Egypt had lost the courage to dream of freedom. A young Moshe (Moses) ventures out of Pharaoh's palace to explore the state of his people. He sees a Hebrew slave being beaten almost to death. After looking around and seeing that "there was no man around" (Exodus 2:12), he intervenes and kills the assailant. Later, he encounters two Hebrew slaves fighting each other. When he tries again to intervene, he is chastised by one of them and reference is made to the killing of the Egyptian slave-master. Moshe escapes to Midian when he realizes that "the thing is known." (ibid 2:14)

Our sages explain that "the thing" that became known was not just the fact of the dead Egyptian, but also an answer to a question that was perplexing Moshe for a very long time. The "thing" that became clear to him was how low his people had sunk. Were they incapable of raising themselves to achieve liberation? After seeing that there was no man who would be "man enough" to stop the murderous beating of a fellow Hebrew, and that two Hebrew men would refuse to be reconciled, he began to believe that this people were beyond salvage.

So Moses escapes to Midian and he is not heard from for over sixty years. In his despondency, he escapes into anonymity. We read of him again in the Biblical text after he has turned eighty. It is only then - after sixty years of silence - that he is confronted with the mystery of the burning bush on Horev, the mountain of G-d.

Moshe then makes a determined decision to investigate this unexplained phenomenon, a bush burning in a fire and yet not becoming consumed. Moshe thought, "I will turn aside now and book at this great sight, why will the bush not be burned." (Exodus 3:3)

That "turning aside" seemed to be a critical step. We sense its importance in the wording of the next verse: "HaShem saw that Moshe turned from his path to see the sight and He called out to him from amidst the bush." (ibid 3:4) The fact that Moshe turned from his path seems to be significant in G-d's subsequent revelation to Moshe. The Midrash Tanchuma describes G-d as saying, "You made the effort to investigate and see; I declare you are worthy of my revealing Myself to you."

Yet, liberation and redemption awaited a small but powerful "turning" on the part of the people: "...and the children of Israel sighed by reason of the bondage, and they cried out, and their cry came up unto G-d by reason of the bondage. And G-d heard their groaning...." (Exodus 2:23-25)

They had been beaten down until they thought that they were beyond redemption. Yet the oppression around them brought out from the depths of their soul one clear and plaintive cry. "And their cry came up unto G-d."

And we then hear: "And G-d heard their groaning."

A cry that burst forth from a deep part of their soul that they are capable of being much more than they are and yearning for much more than they have. That was what G-d was waiting for, a stirring from the people (itrauta delitata).

Throughout the generations, the Jewish people have been enjoined to see themselves as if they themselves are re-experiencing the Exodus. Our sages tell us in the Mishnah (Tractate Pesachim), "In every generation one is required to view oneself as if one personally left Egypt." We need to experience the cry of the oppression around us as much as the joy of liberation. If we are not sensitive enough to feel the need to cry out, events will bring it about.

This month, that cry is being heard again. A young boy, Shlomo Nativ (H.y.d.), was butchered by an axe-wielding Palestinian near his home in Bat Ayin. The cry rises in our midst like bile, "How much longer?"

The newspapers of the world do not feel that it is an important event, but prod Israel to offer more concessions - so that more such events can occur. The enemy surrounds us and has poisoned our friends, and even our Jewish family in the Diaspora; so we cry out again.

Yet, after crying out we must act. If we do not, then our "crying out" is for naught. It then becomes a cry that comes out of pain and not out of yearning. It then becomes the "cry of exile" and not the "cry of redemption". It is only yearning that will put the building blocks of redemption into place.

The greatest blessing seems to always be preceded by wilderness. Why is that so? The night identifies the need and establishes the yearning. It is the yearning that brings the morning. That is the purpose of the cry of redemption. Licking our wounds will do nothing. We must act, and act swiftly and strongly. We must act without regard to the whining of the world around us, which in general has no sympathy for the cry of a butchered Jewish child.

We must act because we have reached the final dayenu - enough!