Before a Redeemer Arises

By NINA WOUK

Parashat Sh'mot (Exodus 1:1-6:1)

In bad times, it's good to be a Jew: Jews have a long history of surviving bad times. The paradigmatic story of national danger is the beginning of the book of Exodus. At first, before Moses is called to his mission, or even born, the Israelites settle in Egypt and prosper there for several generations. Then a new king takes power and begins a concerted attack on the Israelites, which worsens during all the years it takes for Moses to be born, grow up, flee to Midian, and return.

The new Pharaoh's public pronouncements tumble and jumble, a monstrous dream-argument begotten by the sleep of reason. He claims to fear that the Israelites will join invaders to fight against Egypt and, simultaneously, will take advantage of the upheaval of war to emigrate. Equally improbably, he insists that there are more Israelites than Egyptians yet fears that they will "become many." He either believes his own senseless arguments or uses them to stir and exploit illogical fears among his followers.

The United States, likewise, has recently been taken over by a new government given to bombastic and illogical statements in support of frightening policies. The president rhetorically declares war not on another country, organization or even ideology, but on a tactic, terrorism. A war with a target so amorphous is necessarily one "like no other," as neither the enemy nor the goal is defined. People plaster their cars with flag decals as a declaration that they want to do something. In response the president tells them to go shopping. Meanwhile, the Justice Department pushes through Congress an attack on constitutional protections reversible only over the course of several years, if at all.

Like our government's overly-broad anti-foreigner measures, those taken by Pharoah are ill-suited to their stated aims. First he puts the Israelites to work building storage cities, a time-honored use of "guest workers." From African slaves to Mexican farm-workers to Indian engineers, the United States as well depends on foreign labor for the jobs that don't attract natives. However, putting potential traitors to work is not a particularly good way to keep them from endangering the state.

Neither is our government's scatter-shot approach. One midrash elaborates on Pharoah's attempts to sell the Israelites on his building plan; he is supposed to have originally presented it as a patriotic project and pressed the first brick with his own hands. Then he gradually exempted various classes of Egyptians, until only foreigners were forced by law to keep proving their patriotism. Similarly, we hear from our current government that anti-foreigner measures are patriotic, and that anyone who supports the Bill of Rights, or the UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights, is giving aid and comfort to terrorists.

The Torah depicts Pharoah ordering "the midwives of the Hebrews" to kill all boy babies—which is to say, all potential leaders—at birth. When this attempt fails, due to the midwives' resistance, Pharoah idiotically commands "his entire people" to throw all new-born boys into the river. He fails to specify Israelite babies, thus issuing an order which, if carried out, would wipe out a large part of the next Egyptian generation. After this carelessness with his own peoples' lives, the plagues which he brings on his unfortunate country come as little surprise. The plagues that will result from the destabilizing of our constitutional government, too, are only beginning to unfold.

Much as we might wish for our Moses to burst on the scene, the United States seems to be living in the first chapter of Exodus, long years away from relief, with the prospect of suffering more long-term damage from our own leadership than from any foreign threat. Yes, the Israelites survived until better times. So can we.

Rabbinic tradition credits three factors: The Israelites kept speaking their own language, wearing their own style of clothing, and giving their children Hebrew names. Even when it must have seemed pointless to burden their children with strange names and a strange language, they didn't let the words and practices that embodied their values and dreams die out. Thus they were ready for opportunity when it came.

In extraordinary times, acts of ordinary decency constitute resistance to evil. The midwives Shifra and Puah refused to kill Israelite children because they "feared G-d," biblical language for treating even the least powerful of other people with respect. In our times, some local police departments similarly refuse to cooperate in the Justice Department's apparently random investigations of immigrants.

The midwives could not have known whether any particular baby they saved might turn out to be a divinely-inspired redeemer. Equally, we cannot predict the results of any particular protest against any particular evil proposal. Like the midwives, we can be fairly certain of the results of failing to take whatever measures we can.

Jewish history and legend offers no easy answers for surviving in declining times. What they do offer is the assurance that in time, a new redeemer always arrives. Our tasks are to keep the faith, do what we can—and be ready.