Exodus: A Learning Journey Sh’mot, Exodus 1:1−6:1
I am honored to be working with Rabbi Seth Goren to share Jewish wisdom rooted in the Book of Exodus. We are both Reform rabbis who also serve as executive directors of Hillels, mine at Stanford University in California, and his at the networked Hillels of Ontario, Canada. While our daily work focuses on Jewish college students-a population in the stages of exploration, transition, and development-we know the torah we write with students at universities is relevant for the Jewish people far beyond the boundaries of campus.
Like the growing and learning done in the years we spend in college, the Book of Exodus contains some of the formative experiences of the Jewish People-slavery, redemption, revelation. These are the stories we turn to over and over for wisdom, strength, and inspiration.
The Israelite people depicted in Parashat Sh’mot are relatively unformed, loosely connected to family and tribe, but disempowered and lacking purpose, organization, and direction. They will end the book in Parashat Pikudei with a diploma of sorts-the Torah, a new set of teachers and guides in Moses, Aaron, and the Levites, and a renewed identity and purpose. Unlike a college diploma, this scroll marks not the conclusion of our people’s formal learning, but the beginning of a more adult stage of transformation, where we will be guided by a core text and body of hard-won wisdom, rooted in stronger self-knowledge and a renewed relationship with God. Exodus is also where we leave the family narratives that dominate Genesis, grow in numbers and strength, and become a nation.
Parashat Sh’mot begins with Pharoah’s objection to the growth of Israelite families and anxieties about their loyalty, goes on to describe Moses’ birth, upbringing in Pharoah’s household, recognition of and rage upon confronting the Israelites’ suffering, self-imposed exile (where he builds a new family), and concludes with his transformative encounter with God at the burning bush. It also deals with his anxiety about the public leadership role God commissions him for, the beginning of his partnership with his brother Aaron, his return to Egypt, and his reunification with his family of origin.
Like the stories of this Torah portion, in North America, the college years function as a crucible for many young people, where people establish key relationships and have experiences which often inform their trajectories for the rest of their lives. So much happens in a short period of time; many of us leave home, work hard at sometimes repetitive and seemingly arbitrary tasks set by people with more power than we have, struggle with questions of identity and belonging, learn to recognize ourselves, and hopefully find our people. At this stage, many young adults take on a greater share of adult responsibilities, sometimes floundering over tasks (laundry, deadlines, balancing priorities) which will eventually become second nature, but the knack for which is only acquired with experience. It is a time when some of us find our calling and embark on the great journeys of our lives. College is a stage of life that many people look back on with great fondness and nostalgia, sometimes forgetting how hard the day-to-day experience was at the time and how full it was of uncertainty, anxiety, and pressure.
While Sh’mot is, to some extent, the story of great men in conflict, it is also a story about the importance of ordinary people and the power of their choices. I’ve been struck, especially in the last year, with the number of times I heard people wish someone else would “do something” to address challenges on campus. Sometimes action does need to come from a person with a particular title or role because they serve as a gatekeeper or have unique power or capabilities. But some of the most compelling leadership I saw came from unexpected quarters: students or others who stepped up not because they held a title, but because they felt compelled to act. The smaller stories in this week’s portion remind us to look more closely at the power we each have to affect the world around us. If Pharoah is determined to destroy the Israelites, it is Israelite women and Pharoah’s daughter who refuse to let this happen. When Pharoah tries to limit the growth of the people, the mothers are prolific. When he orders the midwives to eliminate baby boys, they resist with creativity and cunning. Shifra and Puah help Yocheved deliver and nurture Moses, Miriam guards him, and the daughter of Pharoah rescues and raises him. For all of these actions, the Babylonian Talmud teaches that “Israel was redeemed because of its righteous women.” (Sotah 11b)
From this, I want to take a lesson that parallels our experience on college campuses during the last, difficult year since October 7, 2023. No matter how challenging the circumstances, we all have agency to act in service of God’s vision for the world and on behalf of the Jewish people. Great or small, our actions make a difference. And we feel better-more involved, more in control, more in alignment with our sense of self-when we take action rather than sit back and feel circumstances unfold on top of us. None of these people, not the Israelite women nor Moses, felt adequate or prepared to meet their moment. But they did it anyway, despite their fear. If they did, we can too, every one of us coming to see that the spot on which we stand-our campus, our school, our town, our country-is holy ground calling out for our recognition and engagement.