The rabbis instruct us to search for hametz not in the bright light of daytime, but in the dark of night, by candlelight. We are told to search the corners and the crevices of our homes for crumbs of bread, to look in the places where even the brightest sun would not reach. Searching at night, by candlelight forces us to look carefully, to notice things we might miss with daylight all around us.
Searching by candlelight illuminates the paradox that daylight can be distracting, even overwhelming. By candlelight we can discern more, not less. Our priorities sharpen. What we most value comes to light.
Let's use the focus of our "candlelight" to keep sight of some of the most important questions that Pesach asks of us: how to remember those most vulnerable, in Israel, even when we are so aware of our own hyper-local isolation and distress. Rabbi David Silber, in the introduction to his Haggadah, challenges us to ask how we can ask the same questions and study the same texts we have been studying for millennia but in a way that is uniquely pertinent to THIS Pesach.
"At its core, madras [midrash] connects the present student to the ancient text, rendering that text alive and pregnant with interpretive possibility. Its fundamental claim is that deep analysis of historical text can provide answers and insights into questions of the moment. What mode of study could be more appropriate for an evening whose stated goal is that 'in every generation one sees oneself as if one had personally gone out of Egypt."
(טו) וַיֹּ֙אמֶר֙ מֶ֣לֶךְ מִצְרַ֔יִם לַֽמְיַלְּדֹ֖ת הָֽעִבְרִיֹּ֑ת אֲשֶׁ֨ר שֵׁ֤ם הָֽאַחַת֙ שִׁפְרָ֔ה וְשֵׁ֥ם הַשֵּׁנִ֖ית פּוּעָֽה׃ (טז) וַיֹּ֗אמֶר בְּיַלֶּדְכֶן֙ אֶת־הָֽעִבְרִיּ֔וֹת וּרְאִיתֶ֖ן עַל־הָאָבְנָ֑יִם אִם־בֵּ֥ן הוּא֙ וַהֲמִתֶּ֣ן אֹת֔וֹ וְאִם־בַּ֥ת הִ֖יא וָחָֽיָה׃ (יז) וַתִּירֶ֤אןָ הַֽמְיַלְּדֹת֙ אֶת־הָ֣אֱלֹהִ֔ים וְלֹ֣א עָשׂ֔וּ כַּאֲשֶׁ֛ר דִּבֶּ֥ר אֲלֵיהֶ֖ן מֶ֣לֶךְ מִצְרָ֑יִם וַתְּחַיֶּ֖יןָ אֶת־הַיְלָדִֽים׃
(15) The king of Egypt spoke to the Hebrew midwives, one of whom was named Shiphrah and the other Puah, (16) saying, “When you deliver the Hebrew women, look at the birthstool: if it is a boy, kill him; if it is a girl, let her live.” (17) The midwives, fearing God, did not do as the king of Egypt had told them; they let the boys live.
למילדות העבריות, to the Hebrew midwives, etc..It is interesting to surmise what exactly the king said to these midwives the first time. [remember that the Torah credits the king with a second אמירה in the next verse. Ed.] Perhaps the Torah has clued us in with the words: "the name of one was Shifrah, whereas the name of the other one was Puah." No doubt there had been numerous midwives who attended the Jewish women. The king did not bother to know any of them by name except those whom he entrusted with a specific task. The Torah tells us that the king spoke to them by name, thus selecting them to perform a Royal command. By calling them by name, the king elevated them to the status of "midwives -in-chief." He had to commence his instructions by saying: "when you deliver the Hebrew women, etc." meaning that the order he was giving applied not only to those two but to all the Hebrew midwives. He instructed them directly as a sign of promoting them over their colleagues.
This is an interesting text about how the powerful/government/authority figures can co-opt others into abandoning their core mission -- In this case, helping women deliver healthy babies. What power are Shifrah/puah deploying to stand up to this kind of coercion?
Note that the naming of female characters, especially relatively minor female characters, is so unusual that it leads to this very commentary. The Torah's referring to Shifra and Puah by name elevates them in the eyes of Or HaChaim and allows him to imagine them having an elevated role in the eyes of Pharaoh.
Even standing up and insisting on being seen and named; ie asserting one's humanity in the face of dehumanizing oppression, is a means of standing up to coercion. Shifrah and Puah take this even further, by asserting their own humanity and then leading the other midwives into active resistance.
(ז) לֹ֣א תֹאסִפ֞וּן לָתֵ֨ת תֶּ֧בֶן לָעָ֛ם לִלְבֹּ֥ן הַלְּבֵנִ֖ים כִּתְמ֣וֹל שִׁלְשֹׁ֑ם הֵ֚ם יֵֽלְכ֔וּ וְקֹשְׁשׁ֥וּ לָהֶ֖ם תֶּֽבֶן׃
Maybe all that needs to be done here isn't parashanut, just more context to show Moshe/Aharon asking for a vacation, Paroah's response, and then the foremen trying to assert justice of their claim before being rejected. Its a story of what extra burden on already extremely vulnerable folks looks like.
Who do we know that entered this moment vulnerably? Who are Israel's most vulnerable and how are they weathering this moment?
The full chapter is long but it provides valuable context. The points that stand out for me are:
- How scary it is to ask for anything from the person holding the power, even it's far less than what you want or need
- Pharaoh's response is the primal nightmare--it is what is used to scare activists out of action. Asking for anything will make it worse. And here, in the short term, it has.
-The doubling down of the oppressor has the desired effect here. It makes the Israelites, out of fear and suffering, doubt Moses and Aaron's leadership. They, in turn, doubt their own leadership, and Moses turns to God in fear and despair.
This is a classic tactic to silence dissent and try to turn vulnerable populations against each other. This is was the attempt in South Tel Aviv, to pit the economically disadvantaged Mizrahi long term residents against the African refugees and asylum seekers, and attempt to blame them for the worsening conditions. The coalition of Mizrahim and African asylum seekers led by organizations like Ahoti etc. helped south Tel Aviv organize to move through that crisis. This moment calls for that again--we see COVID-19 affecting economically disadvantaged neighborhoods much more severely because of crowded living situations and insufficient sanitation. The people who are least able to protect themselves are most desperate for work and have jobs with the least flexibility, security, or protections. Deposit law.
(ה) בְּכָל דּוֹר וָדוֹר חַיָּב אָדָם לִרְאוֹת אֶת עַצְמוֹ כְאִלּוּ הוּא יָצָא מִמִּצְרַיִם, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר (שמות יג), וְהִגַּדְתָּ לְבִנְךָ בַּיּוֹם הַהוּא לֵאמֹר, בַּעֲבוּר זֶה עָשָׂה ה' לִי בְּצֵאתִי מִמִּצְרָיִם.
(5) In every generation a man is obligated to regard himself as though he personally had gone forth from Egypt, because it is said, “And you shall tell your son on that day, saying: ‘It is because of that which the Lord did for me when I came forth out of Egypt” (Exodus 13:8).
בְּכָל דּוֹר וָדוֹר חַיָּב אָדָם לְהַרְאוֹת אֶת עַצְמוֹ כְּאִלּוּ הוּא בְּעַצְמוֹ יָצָא עַתָּה מִשִּׁעְבּוּד מִצְרַיִם שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר (דברים ו כג) "וְאוֹתָנוּ הוֹצִיא מִשָּׁם" וְגוֹ'. וְעַל דָּבָר זֶה צִוָּה הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא בַּתּוֹרָה וְזָכַרְתָּ כִּי עֶבֶד הָיִיתָ כְּלוֹמַר כְּאִלּוּ אַתָּה בְּעַצְמְךָ הָיִיתָ עֶבֶד וְיָצָאתָ לְחֵרוּת וְנִפְדֵּיתָ:
In every generation, one must show himself as if he personally had come out from the subjugation of Egypt; as it is stated (Deuteronomy 6:23), "And He took us out from there, etc." And regarding this, the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded in the Torah (Deut. 5:15, 15:15, 24:22), "Remember that you were a slave" - meaning to say, as if you yourself had been a slave, came out to freedom, and were redeemed.
I think this is the source of the Mizrahi custom to play act at the seder as if we are leaving Egypt. How can we ENTER servitude/fragility this year? What stories from the field about this can we share...
Many of us are worried about procuring food and quality medical care for the first time in our lives. Helath providers in the best hospitals in the world lack the most basic protective gear. This awakens us to the experience of our immigrant pasts or our immigrant ancestors in a frighteningly resonant way, even as we know that we are far more privileged and protected than so many.