| The Sea Didn’t Just Drown the Egyptians, it Drowned Their Power Over Our Minds Immediately after the Jews walked through the Red Sea, they reacted in a peculiar way. And on that day, G-d saved Israel from the hand of Egypt, and Israel saw Egypt dead on the seashore. (Exodus 14:30) But wait a second—weren’t the Israelites already saved a few days earlier, when Pharaoh told them to leave Egypt? They had marched out triumphantly, their hands full of spoils and with high spirits. Why specifically now—after the splitting of the sea—does it mention that the Jews were saved? Hadn’t they been saved shortly before that?Ohr HaChaim explains that they did not feel convinced in their freedom because they feared the Egyptians would pursue them once again and enslave them. Even though they had confidently walked out of Egypt, salvation doesn’t happen when the threat is technically over. It happens when the fear is gone. Even though the Jews were already free, it wasn’t until they saw Egyptian corpses strewn along the shore that they finally experienced the feeling of absolute freedom. The Jews had left Egypt, but Egypt hadn’t left them. They still heard Pharaoh’s horses in their nightmares. They still feared being dragged back in chains. Only when they saw the Egyptians had drowned—could they finally breathe without fear—that they felt free. A person can be externally free but internally enslaved, and one can be externally imprisoned but emotionally free. There are countless stories of Jews during the Holocaust who were physically enslaved but tremendous spiritual freedom. The following story heard firsthand by Professor Yaffa Eliach, who heard it from the protagonist of the story, the Bluzhov Rebbi and documented in her book Chassidic Tales of the Holocaust. The Rabbi of Bluzhov lit the first light and chanted the first two blessings in his pleasant voice, and the festive melody was filled with sorrow and pain. When he was about to recite the third blessing, he stopped, turned his head, and looked around as if he were searching for something. But immediately, he turned his face back to the quivering small lights and in a strong, reassuring, comforting voice, chanted the third blessing: “Blessed art Thou, 0 Lord our G-d, King of the Universe, who has kept us alive, and hast preserved us, and enabled us to reach this season.” Among the people present at the kindling of the lights was a Mr. Zamietchkowski, one of the leaders of the Warsaw Bund, the Jewish socialist party. He was a clever, sincere person with a passion for discussing matters of religion, faith, and truth. Even here in camp at Bergen Belsen, his passion for discussion did not abate. He never missed an opportunity to engage in such a conversation.As soon as the Rabbi of Bluzhov had finished the ceremony of kindling the lights, Zamietchkowski elbowed his way to the rabbi and said, “Spira, you are a clever and honest person. I can understand your need to light Hanukkah candles in these wretched times. I can even understand the historical note of the second blessing, ‘Who wrought miracles for our fathers in days of old, at this season.’ But the fact that you recited the third blessing is beyond me. How could you thank G-d and say, ‘Blessed art Thou, 0 Lord our G-d, King of the Universe, who has kept us alive, and hast preserved us, and enabled us to reach this season’? How could you say it when hundreds of dead Jewish bodies are literally lying within the shadows of the Hanukkah lights, when thousands of living Jewish skeletons are walking around in camp, and millions more are being massacred? For this you are thankful to G-d? For this you praise the Lord? This you call ‘keeping us alive’?” “Zamietchkowski, you are a hundred percent right,” answered the rabbi. “When I reached the third blessing, I also hesitated and asked myself, what should I do with this blessing? I turned my head in order to ask the Rabbi of Zaner and other distinguished rabbis who were standing near me, if indeed I might recite the blessing. But just as I was turning my head, I noticed that behind me a throng was standing, a large crowd of living Jews, their faces expressing faith, devotion, and concentration as they were listening to the rite of the kindling of the Hanukkah lights. I said to myself, if G-d, blessed be He, has such a nation that at times like these, when during the lighting of the Hanukkah lights they see in front of them the heaps of bodies of their beloved fathers, brothers, and sons, and death is looking from every corner, if despite all that, they stand in throngs and with devotion listening to the Hanukkah blessing ‘Who wroughtest miracles for our fathers in days of old, at this season’; if, indeed, I was blessed to see such a people with so much faith and fervor, then I am under a special obligation to recite the third blessing.” Some years after liberation, the Rabbi of Bluzhov, now residing in Brooklyn, New York, received regards from Mr. Zamietchkowski. Zamietchkowski asked the son of the Skabiner Rabbi to tell Israel Spira, the Rabbi of Bluzhov, that the answer he gave him that dark Hanukkah night in Bergen Belsen had stayed with him ever since, and was a constant source of inspiration during hard and troubled times. The Nazi war machine could not take away the Bluzhover Rebbi’s internal freedom and inspiration. But how about us mere mortals; how can we bring this down to our own lives. How many of us walk around technically free—we’re not in danger, we’re not in jail, we’re not oppressed—yet we carry around shackles of anxiety and fear. What if I fail? What if they don’t like me? What if I say the wrong thing? Thoughts like these hold us hostage not because they’re true, but because we believe them. Some people are unfortunately born into challenging life conditions. Drugs, crime, and abuse are sadly the reality for some people. In the mid-19th century, the Alter of Kelm, a great Jewish instructor and mentor of mindfulness, self-awareness, and inner peace used to say that the thoughts we allow into our minds are more powerful than any circumstance. Many people have grown up in challenging life circumstances and were able to have happy and productive lives, but a person plagued by fear and anxiety will remain in a self-imposed prison until they realize their ability to be freed resides solely in their hands. The Baal Shem Tov taught that where your thoughts are—that’s where you are. So how do we experience true freedom? Not just on Pesach when we say we were slaved in Egypt, but every day when we wake up and ask: “Am I living in fear or in faith?” The answer isn’t to pretend bad things never happen. It’s to know that our All-Powerful loving G-d is with us even when we’re standing at the sea, surrounded by fear. We have the power to redirect our thoughts and find inner peace, no matter what comes our way. I can’t control every situation, but I can work on my response. I can’t silence every fear, but I can start to train my mind to trust instead of tremble. I am not what happens to me; I am what I do with what happens to me. This kind of mindset allows one to not only leave Egypt, but to really believe that Egypt can’t come after you anymore. Chag Samayach/Happy Passover |
