[Jewish] [Mindful Torah] Commentary on Parshat Bo: Letting Go of It All

Rabbi Steven Nathan rabbisteve.nathan at gmail.com
Sat Jan 23 00:57:37 EST 2010


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This week’s parashah, Bo (Shemot/Exodus 10:1-13:16), begins “Then God
said to Moses, ‘Go to Pharaoh. For I have hardened his heart and the
hearts of his courtiers, in order that I may display these My signs
among them, and that you may recount in the hearing of your children
and your children’s children how I made a mockery of the Egyptians and
how I displayed My signs among them – in order that you may know that I
am God.’” (10:1-2). This is then followed by the onset of the eighth
plague of locusts. The parashah continues with the continued hardening
of Pharaoh’s heart after the eighth and ninth plagues and then the last
plague, the death of the firstborn. The parashah concludes with the
commandments to dedicate the first-born of the Israelites to God and to
observe Pesakh/Passover.






At the end of last week’s parashah, Va’era, the land of Egypt/Mitzrayim
was almost completely decimated by the plague of hail. Mitzrayim, which
is connected with the Hebrew for “narrow, constricted,” has been laid
waste. The place that was known for its glory and grandeur has been
brought low. Yet, in spite of this, Pharaoh retains his hubris. Living
in his palace, separated from his people, he is able to maintain his
sense of superiority and his belief that nothing could ever destroy him
or his power.







After the conclusion of the seventh plague, it must have seemed to the
people that they and their land could suffer no more. Yet, with the
coming of the locusts we are told that what little vegetation had been
left after the previous plague was now totally consumed. If the people
thought the land was bare after the hail, they now knew what barrenness
really looked like. However, even that could not prepare them for what
was to come. For we read that in the ninth plague, they experienced a
darkness that they could actually feel. This darkness touched the core
of their being. They were totally and utterly engulfed by it. This
palpable darkness can represent not simply depression, uncertainty or
fear, but the people’s realization that everything upon which they had
built their hopes and dreams had ceased to exist. All that they
believed to be real was an illusion. They could no longer experience
anything but nothingness.







We get little sense of how the common Egyptians felt after each plague
ended, but one can only imagine that they were relieved to see again
when this plague ended. Yet, what were they able to see? If they had
truly come to the realization that everything they knew before was an
illusion then what did their eyes perceive in the light?







What they saw was a land that was totally barren. The palaces and
cities of Pharaoh meant nothing to them, for they realized that they
were simply empty monuments. They were able to see the reality that
they had moments ago felt with their entire being. The only thing that
did exist for them at that moment was the realization that nothing
existed. One could imagine that they even doubted their own existence
after all they had experienced. For how could anyone be certain of
anything after experiencing the deepest darkness? As they tried to
comprehend this while continuing their lives, darkness came again.
However, this time it was the “normal” darkness accompanied by the
light of the full moon. Perhaps they could trust this darkness. Perhaps
they again began to feel more secure, like life was going to once again
be what it was before. Then, the final plague struck and they felt as
if they were plunged back into the deep darkness once again. For within
hours, the entire first born of Egypt lay dead. The first born, the
ones upon whom the hopes and dreams of the people’s future rested, were
no more. If there was any doubt that nothing would ever be the same, it
had now been eradicated. The rug had been pulled out from underneath
the entire nation. The future no longer existed. Rather, the future
seemed at that moment to be as uncertain as anything could be. That is
how the parashah ends for the Egyptians.






Though we usually identify with the Israelites, I believe, just as when
interpreting dreams, we can find ourselves in all of the characters in
the Torah. Therefore, we are also the Egyptians … the Mitzrim … the
constricted ones. We are the ones who have been oppressed by a power
that we believed to be greater than us. We may not have been slaves to
Pharaoh, but we were under his control nevertheless. We have worshipped
him as a man/god who controlled our lives. We have looked at his grand
edifices and identified with the power and glory that they represented.
Surely, any person – any nation – that could create such splendor would
last forever. Surely, anyone who was a subject of this person was also
guaranteed the benefits that come along with the package. Yet, with
each plague things became less and less certain. With each plague the
ground beneath us began to shift and tremble. With each plague, our
certainty began to diminish. Now, after the last two plagues we realize
that it is all an illusion and that our future is gone. Though our eyes
can see, it is as if we have been plunged back into that deepest
darkness of the ninth plague yet again. However, this time we don’t
know if we will ever emerge again into the light.






Then, we suddenly come to a realization that awakens us. It even makes
us laugh a bit. This grand revelation is , simply put, ‘this is life.’
This is what it’s about. Existence is not about certainty, glory, or
any of the things represented by palaces and the external trappings of
Pharaoh and his court. Life is about not knowing what the next moment
will bring. Life is about simply acknowledging and living in the
present. Some of us come to this realization easily and early. However,
for most of us it takes being plunged into darkness and ends with the
death of the dreams and fantasies of the future upon which we have
obsessed and built our lives. Only then do we come to the realization
(if we do at all). Yet, once we realize this truth, we are actually
relieved. Once we realize the truth, we can stop being Mitzrim –
constricted ones – and instead become Israelites … B’nai Yisrael, those
content to struggle with forces Divine and human.






And what are the Israelites doing while all of this is happening to the
Egyptians? We are not certain from the text what they are doing during
most of the plagues, but we can imagine that they might have just been
sitting, waiting, and watching, while realizing that all of this was
out of their control. However, we know that during the tenth plague
they were sitting in their homes observing the first Pesakh seder. They
were enacting a ritual commanded to them by Moses, on God’s behalf, by
which their descendants would commemorate this night in perpetuity.
They may have had their sandals on and their staffs at their side so
that they could leave when the time came, but they also realized that
the coming of that time was out of their control. Therefore, they sat,
they ate, and they waited. Though we tend to emphasize the fact that
the people left in haste, and so had no time to let the dough rise, the
Torah tells us even before the meal takes place that they are to eat
unleavened bread. The people were commanded to eat no leaven – which
according to many represents “puffed up” human pride and hubris – even
before they leave in haste.






One can imagine that Israelites simply sat where they were, ate what
was before them and praised God from a place of humility. While all
around them death and destruction engulfed the Egyptians. Then Pharaoh
lets out a cry that the Torah tells us “reached all of Egypt” when his
first-born dies. The future that he had built and planned for is no
more. Even then, the Israelites remain seated in their homes
celebrating the Passover. They remain where they are acknowledging and
celebrating the present, knowing that the future is simply an unknown.
All they have is the present. If there is to be a future, it is in
God’s hands and they will know it only when it becomes the present.






When the final plague ends, the moment arrives when the future becomes
the present. God makes them aware that it is time to move from their
place. Yet, before that, God commands them that from now on their
first-born will always be consecrated to the Divine. This is an
instruction to them to remember that the future, represented by the
first-born, is in God’s hands – however one chooses to understand that
term.







We cannot control the future. We cannot control anything, any more than
could the Egyptians. All we can do is experience the present. We can
attend to and feel within our souls what is happening in the moment, no
matter how painful or difficult it may be, just as the Egyptians did
during the plagues of locust and darkness. We can sit wherever we are
and recognize the chaos that is ensuing all around us, as well as the
uncertainty within us, as the Israelites did during the final plague.







Our other choice is to take the path of Pharaoh, always believing that
we are in control, that we know what the future brings and that our
world is in our command. If we choose this path then, when everything
comes crumbling down around us, as it inevitably will, we will be
unable to feel the darkness of that moment or sit there in the midst of
the chaos. Rather, we will only be able to do as Pharaoh did and let
out a scream that could reach all the corners of Egypt, and all the
corners within ourselves, as everything that we thought we had created
and controlled dies around us, and we die along with it.






Still, once again, this provides us with an opportunity. At that moment
when we feel all that we can do is scream and sink to our knees, we can
also choose. We can either accept the impermanence and uncertainty of
life or we can once again begin to build our illusions of permanence
and control of the future. Each moment provides us with choice. Each
moment provides us with an opportunity. Each moment is all we have. Now
we simply need to decide.



Shabbat Shalom.


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Posted By Rabbi Steven Nathan to Mindful Torah at 1/23/2010 12:55:00 AM
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