[Drash, 4 February 2023]
Depending on who you ask, the Israelites have been enslaved for between 861 and 400 years. However, I'm not going to talk about maths; I'm going to talk about the first two verses of B'shallach:
eretz pelishtim ki karov hu ki amar elohim pen-yinnachem ha'am bir'otam milchamah veshavu mitzrayemah.
G-d did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines, although it was nearer; for G-d said, "The people may have a change of heart when they see war, and return to Egypt."
vayyassev elohim et-ha'am derech hammidbar
So G-d led the people round about, by way of the wilderness.
At first glance, it appears G-d is trying to protect the Israelites by taking them on a longer but safer route. Except it wasn't safer: At the end of B'shallach, Israel is attacked by the Amalekites! And after the battle the Israelites did not want to return to Egypt. So what was the point of taking the round about way?
Let's hold that thought and consider what G-d must think of the Israelites. He has just sent ten signs - or plagues - which devastated Egypt, and has appeared as a pillar of cloud during the day and a pillar of fire at night to lead the way. Does G-d really think that, at the first sign of hardship, the Israelites will abandon Him and rush back to Egypt, into the arms of their enslavers?
We don't have to wait long for an answer. Less than a week since they left Egypt, the Israelites say to Moses:
Was it for want of graves in Egypt that you brought us to die in the wilderness? For it were better for us to serve the Egyptians, than that we should die in the wilderness.
Moses' response is to part the sea, and the Israelites sing a song to G-d, but just five weeks later they again complain:
Would that we had died by the hand of the LORD in the land of Egypt…when we did eat bread to the full; for ye have brought us forth into this wilderness, to kill this whole assembly with hunger.
Quail and manna rained down to feed them, and yet in the very next chapter the Israelites are again murmuring against Moses and Aaron:
Wherefore hast thou brought us up out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and our cattle with thirst? (17:3)
And that's just B'shallach! In Ki Tisa, the Israelites create the Golden Calf, and in Shelach, after the report of the twelve spies, the Israelites cry out:
And wherefore doth the LORD bring us unto this land, to fall by the sword? Our wives and our little ones will be a prey; were it not better for us to return into Egypt? (Numbers 14:2-3)
Honestly, the Israelites sound like whinging POMs. However, Mati Shemoelof, in a 2016 article entitled "What we left behind," wrote: "Egypt in this context is not the Egypt of an enemy. Egypt is their identity. Egypt is their mother tongue. Egypt is the first memory. Egypt is the frame of reference, the context in which they live. When they say that they want to return to Egypt, it is like saying that they wish to return to their mother."2
Now let's go back to the question: Why did G-d lead the people in a round about way? Rashi3 suggests it was a trick, so when the Israelites inevitably tried to return to Egypt they wouldn't know which direction to go.
However, I have a simpler explanation. If the Torah is a metaphor for life, and Genesis is about birth, Exodus is about growing up. G-d is pushing the Israelites out of the nest. He didn't bring them the long way around to protect them or confuse them, but to teach them. As slaves they were infantilized, provided with food and water, shelter and protection. As they had to contend with providing for themselves, it is natural they looked backwards and longed for the familiar.
Mati Shemoelof goes on to suggest the reason the Israelites, including Moses, were not allowed to enter the Promised Land was because G-d realised they were so assimilated, they would always identify as Egyptians. "Their call to return is almost childish… Their wish to [return to] Egypt is a wish to be with the dead parent…but there is no way to heal the trauma and to make peace with it." Rashi also suggested only one-fifth of the Israelites left Egypt; the rest were so assimilated they would never leave. Joshua and Caleb, the only spies who looked forward and could see themselves living in the Promised Land, were the only men from their generation allowed to enter.
We've all taken a "round about" approach to life. Not long ago, one of our children said to us, as only a teenager can, "No offense, but I don't want your lifestyle." [pause] Surprise, honey, neither did we. When we were her age, neither of us dreamed of a middle-class suburban lifestyle in New Zealand. But here we are, and we wouldn't change it for anything.
Wouldn't it be great if we could stay children forever? No responsibilities, no consequences, everything is taken care of for you. But we know that would not make us happy. According to the Zohar, Mitzrayim is derived from m'tzarim, meaning "narrow straits." Leaving Mitzrayim is to go from a narrow strait into the wider world. Being taken care of is comforting, but constricting; it closes us off to opportunities and prevents growth. The wilderness is scary, but it is full of possibilities.
B'shallach translates to "When he let go." As we push our own kids out of the nest, I don't know what their future holds, but I hope they have the same hope, faith and resilience as the Israelites to walk into the wilderness.
I will end with the poem "Scaffolding" By Erez Bitton (translated by Tsipi Keller). It may be about Moses, unable to finish the journey but encouraging his children to continue. But it's also about my own father, who passed away 28 years ago. As some of you know, he had a massive heart attack when he was just 45. Back then, open heart surgery was in its infancy and nobody knew if he'd survive but, with three children under 13, he promised my mother he would not abandon her. He did survive but his heart was badly damaged. When it finally failed, 14 years later, his youngest child was 21. He wasn't able to finish his journey, but he kept his promise.
On the threshold of half a house in the Land of Israel
my father stood
pointing to the sides and saying:
Upon these ruins
one day we will build a kitchen
to cook in it a Leviathan's tail
and a wild bull,
upon these ruins
we will build a corner for prayer
to make room
for a bit of holiness.
My father remained on the threshold
and I, my entire life,
have been erecting scaffolding
reaching up to the sky.
1 Seder Olam Rabbah (Ch. 3), https://www.sefaria.org/Seder_Olam_Rabbah.3
2 https://www.972mag.com/what-we-left-behind-in-egypt-mizrahi-thoughts-on-israel/
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