The Torah column is supported by a generous donation from Eve Gordon-Ramek in memory of Kenneth Gordon.
Bo
Exodus 10:1-13:16
Imagine the following scenario: At the airport in Cairo, an Egyptair jet lands. On board is a man dressed in royal attire, who was given permission by heaven to return to earth and check out his native Egyptians. The man disembarks and is greeted by a steward. He speaks, but the steward doesn’t understand a word he’s saying. They search high and low, and finally locate a translator who knows some ancient Egyptian.
“Who are you?” the steward asks through the interpreter.
“I’m mighty Pharaoh, king of the greatest empire in the world.”
“Well, what can we do for you, Mr. Pharaoh?”
“How is my empire doing?” Pharaoh asks.
“Well, it’s long gone.”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” Pharaoh responds. “What about the Solar Temple of Ra? Any worship of the sun god going on today?”
“Pharaoh, there is no solar temple in Egypt. There are solar panels, but no one worships them, except in California.”
“Gee, what about my Hebrew slaves? Are they still building my pyramids?”
“Pharaoh, the Hebrews are still building real estate, but not for Egypt. They are a free and vibrant nation now, just next door.” Pharaoh is bewildered and gets back on the plane. The future is not quite what he imagined it would be.
In another part of the world, an Alitalia flight lands at an airport near Rome. Again, a man disembarks. He adjusts his toga. He’s trying to communicate, but nobody knows what he’s talking about. He keeps pointing to himself, saying: “Julius Caesar! Julius Caesar!” and waits for everybody to bow before him. Nobody does. So they find a professor who knows Latin, a far cry from the Italian you hear in Rome today. He says, “Take me to the Colosseum so I can watch the gladiators go at it.”
The professor says, “Mr. Caesar, around here these days you’re known as a salad. We can take you either with vinaigrette or with Thousand Island — works either way. But the Colosseum is in ruins.”
Caesar says, “OK, so take me to the Temple of Jupiter.”
“Eh, Mr. Caesar,” the translator replies, “who is Jupiter? We have the Vatican here. It’s a church. A different religion altogether, called Catholicism. It’s got a pope. No Jupiter.”
“Well, then,” asks the emperor, “do we still control most of the world “
“No,” the translator answers. “There aren’t that many people living in Rome nowadays. It’s a small, bankrupt country. Ancient Rome is gone. History. The stuff of bad movies.”
So Caesar and Pharaoh come to visit their home cities, but they’re nothing like the cities they once knew.
As these visits are going on, an El Al aircraft lands in Tel Aviv. An old man with a flowing white beard steps off the plane. An airport employee sees this saintly looking fellow. The employee walks over to him and says: “Shalom.”
“Shalom,” the man answers with a smile.
“It’s an honor to meet you. What is your name?”
“Moshe,” the man responds.
“Oh really? My name is Moshe, too. Moshe Katzenberg from Lud. Born in Russia.”
“I am Moshe Rabbenu; some call me Moses. From the desert. Born in Egypt.”
“Have you ever been to Israel before?”
“No. This is my first time, actually,” Moses continues. “My dear brother, Moshe Katzenberg, may I ask you for a big favor?”
“Sure,” Moses Katzenberg replies.
“I just finished flying through the night and realized that I don’t have my tefillin with me. Can you tell me where I might be able to get a pair of tefillin?”
Without hesitating, Moshe Katzenberg says, “Sure, you can borrow mine.”
Pleased, Moses continues, “Listen, I don’t mean to be a nudnik, but is there any place around here where I can catch a minyan for Shacharit?”
“Betach, Rabbenu!” Moses Katzenberg replies. “Of course, Rabbi! Right here in the new airport, we have a synagogue.”
During the davening, the worshipers take the Torah out of the holy ark and call Moses up for an aliyah. He is in awe. It’s the same Torah, written with the same letters, as the one he himself wrote 3,300 years ago. He recognizes his handwriting.[i]
Same religion. Same language. Same commandments. Same homeland. This is remarkable. Every ancient civilization — from Egypt to Rome — was destroyed, scattered and disappeared into the mists of history. But the Jewish people miraculously survived with their faith intact, and in our parents’ lifetime, were restored to sovereignty in their ancient homeland. And Hebrew — the language of the Torah Moses wrote, is now the daily tongue of a vibrant nation of millions.
As historian Barbara Tuchman wrote, Israel is “the only nation in the world that is governing itself in the same territory, under the same name, and with the same religion and same language as it did 3,000 years ago.”
How did this happen? How did a group of powerless slaves survive when even the mightiest empires vanished?
The answer is this: Ancient Egypt and ancient Israel were nations that asked the ultimate question: How, in a world that changes, do we build a civilization that will endure? How do we defeat mortality?
Pharaoh gave one answer, an answer that has long appealed to rulers and kings: The strength of a nation lies in horses and chariots, tanks and armies and colossal buildings, in power and wealth. Build these, and your nation will defy the vicissitudes of time. Pharaoh did that; Caesar did that. Today their civilizations are long gone. Their monuments survive, but their moment has passed.
Moses gave a completely different answer. The strength of a nation does not lie in power and wealth. It depends on the values you engrave on the hearts of your children. Tell your children the story of the Exodus, said Moses in this week’s Torah portion, and explain how we were commanded to create a society that was the opposite of Egypt: one based not on wealth or power, but on justice and compassion. A society where a loving God is sovereign, and every citizen is created in His image. A society in which everyone has access to justice, every mitzvah is cherished and all are treated with dignity. Teach your children these values, and you will create an eternal people. Your story will endure, and carry you along with it.