The Lingering Lessons of Passover
Passover ended about two weeks ago and on the Jewish calendar we’re now counting the Omer and moving toward Shavuot and revelation. Still, we can be forgiven if we can still almost taste the matza on our tongues and hear the songs and our story in our ears. In fact, keeping the story of our journey from enslavement to redemption present with us all year long can offer us much needed guidance and strength as we struggle to find a way to address our climate crisis.
The word mitzrayim has two meanings. It’s the Hebrew name for ancient Egypt and it also means a narrow place; a place of constriction. As such, the word is used to help us see our ancestors’ liberation from enslavement in Egypt as moving from a place of constriction (which enslavement certainly is) and into a place of spaciousness (which freedom certainly ought to be).
Psalm 118 captures this beautifully. The Psalmist writes, “From a narrow place, I called out to God; God answered me from the expanse”.
Without much imaginative thinking or poetic license, we can see how we are now in another kind of mitzrayim; a place of constriction. We’re experiencing the impacts of the climate crisis closing in on us as we hear the ticking of the clock telling us that we have limited time to prevent the worst impacts from being visited on future generations. It’s almost more than our psyches can hold and many people either run away from this overwhelming reality or fall into a pit of despair.
So, how should the Jewish community be responding to this existential bind and what can our Passover story teach us that can inform our response? We’re told that we should hear the story as if each of us was personally brought out of Egypt. Why? I think the main reason is that if we can feel our way through the story, it can sensitize our hearts to the suffering of others, “…because we were slaves in Egypt”. It’s a spiritual technique to help us feel rachmanus (compassion). That’s a Jewish value. So, the first thing to come to grips with is that we are not allowed to turn away; we cannot be bystanders to something that is causing suffering, even if we’re overwhelmed at the magnitude of it.
But there is another way to feel our way into the story and juice more wisdom that we can apply to our current circumstance. Let me recast the roles from the Passover story onto our current mitzrayim to see if it provides hints of a way through this narrow passage to redemption.
First, we need to identify Pharaoh. In our current story, Pharaoh has three heads: the fossil fuel industry that continues to put profit over people; the politicians held in the sway of those extractive industries through huge donations to their reelection campaigns; and the large financial institutions that continue to fund the harm. These three heads constitute the hardened heart of Pharaoh. It also should be mentioned that we are all complicit in propping up Pharaoh through the ways we live our lives and invest our money. But for now, let’s simply revisit the famous quote from Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, “Some are guilty, but all are responsible”.
Speaking of responsibility, who is our Moses? Sadly, there is no single modern-day figure who can represent all of us, so… it falls to all of us to be Moses. I believe that the Jewish community is well cast in the role of Moses. When Moses kills the Egyptian slave master, he’s showing his hyper-sensitivity to injustice. I believe that’s our superpower; our sense of felt responsibility. We don’t act based on calculations. We feel something is wrong or unjust, we feel it in our kishkes, and that feeling, like Moses, moves us from a posture of, “Someone ought to do something about this” to “I need to do something about this”.
But I’m guessing that this casting might seem daunting. You might be thinking, “Me? Moses? Are you kidding? Who am I to speak truth to power?” Well, isn’t that exactly how Moses felt standing in front of the burning bush? When the voice from the bush drafts Moses to go back to Egypt and demand that Pharaoh let the people go, Moses begins his evasive maneuvers. In one of the most famous lines in the entire story, Moses tells the voice, “I’m not a person of words”. And the voice from the bush responds with a remarkable phrase, “I’ll be with your mouth”. Even then Moses isn’t yet able to let go of his fear and grab ahold of his faith and he continues to try to wiggle out of the assignment. The voice then tells him that his brother, Aaron, will be with him, helping him, supporting him. This exchange tells us we don't need to be brave souls or master communicators to play the role of Moses. But perhaps we do need an Aaron.
So, who is Aaron in our current story? Jewish Climate Action Network exists to support the Jewish community in taking climate action. It’s right there in our name. Moses needed someone at his side, helping him find the words, offering encouragement and counsel. In much the same way, JCAN provides education on the issues, easy to use tools for taking action, and help identifying the unique gifts of each person that can be deployed to speed up the work. So, that’s Aaron.
Having the familiar cast members of this ancient drama recast into our current mitzrayim can clarify our situation and our place in it. We know who we need to stand up to; we know that we’re the ones we’ve been waiting for; and we know where to reach for resources to guide and support us.
Let’s move forward with strength, and in community, and may God be with our mouths.