I could give you the whole synopsis of this weeks' parsha, but I’m pretty sure that Disney already did that with the movie The Prince of Egypt. Dad keeps telling me there was another movie before that one too. So instead I’m going to think a little abstractly and relate this to me, after all it does seem to be what teens do best.
I was looking at this week's portion and the part that caught my eye is at the part where Moses’s mother puts him in a basket and places him in the Nile. Such blind faith seems unrealistic in today’s time. That a mother could believe that her child will make it without a mother’s protection is quite an extreme, especially for a baby. As Richard Friedman points out, she's betting that the same river where all the other Jewish babies are being drowned is somehow going to save hers. I initially thought that baby Moses was perfectly quiet during his journey – that Prince of Egypt thing again – but then I read the portion and found out he was weeping. But a midrash in the JPS Tanakh says he sounded like a toddler and not a baby, obviously Moses was not a normal child!
At this moment, I can relate on a very personal level to Moses situation – to be put into a small confined space, and rather loudly wonder where on earth you’re going and when you’re going to get there. You see, in 8 short days I will leave my home for Israel, my other home. As part of the Eisendrath International Exchange I will be spending the rest of this semester there. I will be getting into my own basket, placed there by my loving parents, and going down my own Nile. It is a river in which, right now, many mothers are losing their babies, but in which my parents (and I) feel I will discover my life. Who will open my basket I don’t know, but by my blind faith I will go on my own.
Another interesting midrash explores why pharaoh’s daughter reaches out for the basket. They say that she heard a cry for help and reached out towards it to help. A while back some archaeologists found some biblical scenes depicting pharaoh’s daughter reaching out with abnormally long arms to receive the basket. The rabbi’s go on to say that it means that one shouldn’t stop at any lengths to help another. The sages also say that the daughter of pharaoh was stricken with leprosy, so she went down to the River to bathe herself. As soon as she touched the basket, she was healed and because of this she took pity on Moses and loved him even more.
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Shemot means names, our names are one of the most important things in our life. They give us an identity. If I called anyone of you, “hey you!” instead of Mom, or Mrs. Shiloh, or Mr. Gabonea, it wouldn’t be the same. The meaning would be lost. Pharaoh's daughter explains that the name it is related to “mashah” or “draw out” since he was drawn out of the water. But Mashah also meant son of. The Egyptians used it to name their children and put one of their gods names in front of it – Ramaseh, Batmaseh and so on. Whether intentionally or not, Pharaoh's daughter named the baby “son of the nameless G-d” or Hashem. What is even more interesting is that for the first 3 months of Moses’s life, he has no name. Not in Torah or in Haftorah, we are not told of what he’s called before Pharaoh’s daughter names him. To begin in the world on such a journey but without anything to be called by seems quite difficult, especially for 3 months. But it’s hard to think of the name Moshe as not being someone of greatness, power, and leadership. For Moses’s gave it all that and more. Becoming Shemot – growing into a name - is more than just being given a name, but giving it meaning, life, an image, a personality. There is a poem that was passed along to me, dealing explicitly with this week’s portion and the ideas of Becoming (Shemot) by Rachel Barenblat;
BECOMING (SHEMOT)
But Moshe said to God
Who am I to go to Pharaoh?
And God said
I will be with you
I am becoming who I am becoming
it is time for you to do the same
everyone else walked right by
but you saw the miracle burning
Pick up your staff now
and make yourself ready
The journey ahead is long
and generations will comb their stories
to learn how you tied your shoes
and how to lead the people
with compassion and with vision
as you are about to do.
For me at this moment, I can relate to Moses the shepherd, being afraid of becoming. Most people have trouble with this concept. For me it’s more than just becoming myself, but living up to everything that I know I can do. I believe that we all had this problem at one point or another. For me it almost feels unrealistic, because I don’t like traveling into the unknown, and becoming all that I’m supposed to be, means taking a chance at blind faith and praying that it will all come out okay. It’s what we all seem to do everyday.
If this week's portion has anything to teach me about next week's journey, it's that it often begins with a parental push. It may have a destination that is foreign but friendly. It can define who I am and transform me so much that people may not remember I was ever anything else. And that Hashem isn't afraid to change, or of my changes so I shouldn't be either.
Shabbat Shalom
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