Exodus and Anxiety

In Sefer Shemot (the book of Exodus), we read about the progression through which the Jewish people were transformed from slaves to members of a free nation. The importance of the exodus from Egypt seems to be on par with the creation of the universe, two events that we are instructed to remember throughout our lives. I would like to reflect on the nature of this national and historical event, as well as on the elements within the greater process of nation building. These are of such significance that they warrant constant attention.

Let us begin by recalling the conditions of the Jews’ slavery in Egypt. Whether they endured 210 years or 400 of bondage, we are talking about generations of people who were subjugated and lived a life of torture, pain, and suffering. Not until Moshe Rabbeinu (Moses) is there any indication of someone speaking out against the terrible circumstances of their existence. Before this unique human being appeared, there were no rebellions that we know about, no civil rights leaders. The people who would eventually become the nation of Israel simply accepted this status quo for centuries as their reality. In Parashat Shemot, however, we learn about a sudden change. The Jews cried out, and God heard them. At long last, they were ready to take the first steps towards liberation.

Many biblical commentators discuss the process that was necessary to move the Jewish people from a slave mentality to a mindset of the free individual. I would like to share my own thoughts on one facet of that transformation.

Slavery, while terrible, represented a secure existence. By that, I mean that life was consistent, unchanging, certain. A slave will never achieve great things or recognition on a greater societal level, but he/she will also rarely encounter doubt and anxiety. I would like to suggest that the process of exodus involved a critical lesson. In order to be God’s nation, we must be ready to encounter situations of uncertainty. The Jewish people had to develop a solid foundation of belief in God and in His promises of a better life, so that they could tolerate the unknown, the untried path in front of them.

This also connects to the concept of free will. We did not merely move from one slavery to another, replacing Pharaoh as master with God as The Master. The gift that God gave us is our freedom to choose. Choice, by definition, involves letting go of the rejected option, and that always includes a measure of anxiety. God teaches us, however, that the price of living without choice—i.e. staying in bondage—is a much higher one than facing the anxiety of a potentially uncertain future. By entering into true freedom, we also have the potential to achieve so much more.

Looking ahead to the parashiyot (Torah portions) that follow, one has to wonder, why did the Jews so often wish to return to Egypt? What drew them back to the life of slavery? Perhaps in moments of higher stress in the desert, such as when seemingly trapped in front of the Yam Suf, or when their physical appetites overcame them, some members of the nation looked back on their time in Egypt with rose-colored glasses. At those moments, an enslaved but certain life seemed less threatening than a liberated yet uncertain one.

We can see the parallels of these elements in our own lives. Fear of failure, mistakes, or making the wrong choice can be paralyzing. This can lead to avoidance, procrastination, and the like. Remaining in this position, however, we are essentially returning to a place of servitude. Instead of being slaves to Pharaoh, we are now slaves to our personal doubts and fears. On the other hand, we can cry out and say “Enough!”, making the move towards growth and change. By stepping out of our comfort zones, we can open ourselves to lives of free choice and personal development.

A quintessential model of an individual who chooses to leave comfort and predictability behind is the convert. In Parashat Mishpatim, and then again in Parashat Ekev, we are commanded to be very sensitive to converts. Not only is it forbidden to taunt or oppress them, or pester them with reminders of their past lives (וגר לא תונה ולא תלחצנו… שמות כב:כ), we are given a direct imperative to love the convert (ואהבתם את הגר… דברים י:יט). Why? Because we, too, were strangers (“geirim”) in the land of Egypt (כי גרים הייתם בארץ מצרים). We must, therefore, consider the fortitude of an individual who chooses to leave all that is familiar and secure, and turns his or her life upside-down in order to adopt a totally new lifestyle—a decision that is, undoubtedly, immensely stressful. As a nation, we are instructed to approach these human beings with love and care, recognizing the difficult and admirable choice that they have made.

God places significant value on the ability to leave one’s comfort zone, a familiar place of security, and to embark on a higher path—particularly one inherently less certain. This value is driven home by the directive given to us to remember each day the exodus from Egypt. This is true both on a micro level, as an explanation for our identifying with, and embracing of, the convert, and on a macro level, as a perpetual reminder of the freedom which God has granted us and of what great things we can achieve thanks to that liberty.

Let us keep the lessons of the exodus in the forefront of our minds. We should be ready to face the anxieties in our lives, knowing that God believes that we are strong enough to tolerate them. We are no longer slaves; we are now a free people with the power of choice. May we confront our choices without being paralyzed by fear, and may we enter into situations of uncertainty with faith and confidence.