When I was a freshman in college I followed up on a referral, made a few phone calls, and left campus to spend Shabbat at the home of the Bostoner Rebbe. The rebbe, in those years had a large beis medrash with a small dormitory above in which a constant stream of visitors could be hosted while we experienced a uniquely New England Hasidic Shabbos. And I enjoyed a uniquely New England Hassidic Shabbos – the mechitzah in the shul was constructed from discarded glass panels from the John Hancock Tower and the Rebbe, the descendant of generations of Hasidic royalty, spoke English with a true Boston accent.
And when the Rebbe spoke, he made an observation which I think about every year at Parashat Yitro. The names that Moshe gives his children have the same etymologies as the names that Yoseph gives to his children. Moshe names his sons, Gershom for “I have been a stranger in a strange land” followed by Eliezer for “the God of my father was my help, and He delivered me from the sword of Pharaoh.” Yoseph had named his sons Menashe, for “God has made me forget completely my hardship and my parental home.” and Ephraim for “God has made me fertile in the land of my affliction.”
Both Moshe and Yoseph experienced life as an outlaw or fugitive in Egypt. Both Moshe and Yoseph overcame hardship. Both Moshe and Yoseph experienced life in the palace of pharaoh. But Yoseph’s life trajectory in Egypt was a trajectory from slavery to the palace and Moshe’s life tragectory in Egypt was one from the palace to solidarity with slaves. And so the names of their sons are reversed. Moshe’s first child’s name, Gershom, is a reflection on the foreignness of Egypt; it is a “strange land.” Yoseph’s second child alludes to Egypt as the “land of my affliction.”
Both Moshe and Yoseph name their sons as a way to make sense of their experiences living in the heart of a vast non-Jewish empire which was a site of both great peril and great opportunity to each of them. And their subjective experiences of Egypt colored their evaluation of Egypt. Yoseph remained appreciative of the empire in which he overcame the hatred of his brothers and attained great power and wealth and prestige. Moshe, ignorant of his own Jewish birth, grows up with every privilege imaginable as a member of a royal household, before recognizing that Egypt is an evil empire and a land where Jewish life has no future.
Who is right? They are both right because they encountered Egypt in different times in which different political forces were dominant. If Yoseph had seen the world the way Moshe did he would not have seized the opportunity to rise from prison, attain power, and use it to save the world. If Moshe had seeen the world as Yoseph did, he never would have went out to see his brothers toiling in bondage and we and our children and our children’s children would still be slaves unto Pharaoh in Egypt.
I was born and raised in a country that had rescued my family from near certain death. The branches of my family that were behind the front lines of an Allied Army survived The Second World War. Those who did not have that protection, did not survive. America offered my family safety and offered them prosperity. My grandparents had working class jobs, my parents had advanced degrees, and I felt completely free to embrace my Jewish identity and to walk the streets of any city or town in this country identifiable as a Jew with no fears of any hostility or aggression or violence. I remember striding across Harvard Yard each Shabbat, dressed in my Shabbos clothes, and feeling at home on campus as a proud Jew, and I felt that my ancestors would be proud of me too, trying to care about mitzvot while making it in America.
I still feel, fundamentally, safe in America. But I sense more peril, and that sense of threat grows every time there is a violent antisemitic attack in America. The sense of safety that would last forever that I felt for my entire childhood and into my adulthood now feels naive to me. And I suspect many Jews are feeling more than a little anxious or frightened. What should we do with that fear?
Moshe’s children, Gershom and Eliezer are an interesting case study. Moshe left his wife and children behind with Yitro in Midian when Moshe went to Egypt. That makes sense. The Midrash imagines the thought process behind this decision. Moshe is trying to get Jews out of Egypt, why would he bring any more Jews into Egypt than was absolutely necessary! So Gershom and Eliezer were safe with their mother and grandparents when Moshe went back to Egypt for his dangerous mission. And, Gershom and Eliezer missed out on the defining experience of their generation. They were living in Midian during the first Pesach. They were watching goats in Midian when their father led their cousins through the Sea in triumph. According to Ibn Ezra they even missed out on the revelation at Sinai. They were safe. They avoided some real risks, but they missed so much.
I think of Gershom and Eliezer every time I am faced, as a parent, between an option that is easier for my children and pleasant for my children or an option that allows them to participate in Jewish life in a profound and thick way. We schlep our children to shul before they are mature enough to appreciate it for themselves. We invest in our children’s Jewish education before they know how to make use of the Torah they learn. We instruct our children to be proud Jews who don’t hide who they are or what they believe, knowing that may create some moments of dissonance or tension in their lives, but overcoming those moments of tension is what will allow them to take our place one day as the shapers of Jewish destiny. Just as the adults here today were shaped by the choices that our parents and teachers and community made for us many years ago. Moshe chose a safe and pleasant option for Gershom and Eliezer, and they are barely mentioned again in the Torah.
And for ourselves too, we should think strategically and carefully about all the ways we can protect Jewish lives from those who would harm us. But every worthwhile activity entails some amount of risk and we must be careful that we neither overplay the risk, nor downplay the benefit of being Jewish. The easiest and safest option writes us out of the Jewish story.
I always thought it was striking that the Bostoner Rebbe led one of the only Hasidic dynasties to embrace the name of an American city rather than the name of an ancestral city somewhere in Europe. I endorse that choice because, fundamentally, Boston is no different than Lubavitch or Satmar or Belz or Gur. or Los Angeles or London, or Lakeview. All of those places can be places where Torah is embraced and where Jewish life flourishes. None of those places guarantee a life without risk.
It always brings me such comfort and strength to see so many good people gathered together in shul. An enormous unceasing effort has been invested in the safety of our gathering and being here is as safe as anything can be in this crazy world. Being here also strengthens our connections to one another, to the Torah and its mitzvot and helps us write a Jewish future for ourselves and for the generations that will follow.
Rabbi David Wolkenfeld 