Who do you turn to in times of need? I imagine each of us can picture a family member, coach, teacher, or some other leader in our life who has been there for us in a time of narrowness. For the rest of our lives, we can picture their faces for the impact they have made on us, for the manner in which they led us.
Administration transitions are a great time to think about leadership as we can immediately compare those coming in with those coming out. It’s safe to say the leaders are not really leading well right now.
When we’re afraid, we look to leaders who can see us where we really are. We look to leaders that lift up. We look to leaders who bring in. Leaders can help us find redemption, a real sense of being saved from something perilous. When they make us feel more imperiled, that’s a problem.
Attributes of leadership and redemption are part and parcel of the Jewish wisdom tradition. The Sfat Emet, in his introduction to the book of Exodus teaches about three different levels of redemption:
1) God brings forth the prisoners
2) God delivers the humble
3) God helps the poor.
His interpretation and explanation of "God delivers the humble" struck me, especially as Moses’ greatest character trait is his humility. The Sfat Emet goes on:
The humble are the righteous; they themselves are not really in exile, but they remain there only for the common good. Such was the case with Moses, who had already been a shepherd. He was prepared for redemption. In essence he was no longer in exile at all, but was there just to redeem Israel.
This is remarkable. Moses, with no immediate personal need for redemption, chooses to leave the center to join the margins, to stand with the vulnerable, to experience the role God had chosen for him, precisely from the space in which redemption was so necessary, all while he was at great risk.
We don’t often think of this perspective of Moses’ journey. He has been saved, gone through all of his own trials and tribulations to find personal redemption. But the thing is, that singular redemption is not enough because as long as the people of Israel are still embroiled in the quagmire that is their escape from the physical and mental clutches of Egypt, Moses cannot actually experience real redemption. He chooses to stay there, to wield his privilege for good.
It’s why in the moments before they jump into the sea, when the Israelites complain one more time to Moses, and Moses turns to God, God doesn’t give Moses some magical answer. God tells Moses, don’t talk to me! I don’t need your words now. Go to the people. Speak to them. Help them through this moment. You’re here because you chose to be here. You understood that they needed you. They’re out; you’re in. Bring them to redemption.
All power brokers operate from this perspective. In theory, they are living in a world free of burden. They can get what it is that they want: Torah, redemption, or some other material desire, and not need for anything else. But in their positions, whether you think it from happenstance or divine will, the most righteous recognize something more potent. They are not free as long as there are people who are still toiling under oppression.
Whether it’s a gatekeeper who is shutting the doors maliciously or a group of slavers that is mindlessly pursuing them to put them back in shackles, they need their leaders who are coming from a place of freedom to step toward them.
This is what our world so sorely is lacking right now. When those elected to office are coming up short, it falls upon us, especially when we find ourselves in a privileged position to offer such assistance. The narrowness is palpable right now. Goodness seems diminished and cruelty is elevated.
So, in response, we’ve got to go to the margins and find those most in need of help. Picture those same people we imagined in the beginning. They gave us the loving nudge, the helpful hold, or the powerful words to bring us from the periphery to somewhere safe. We can do the same for others.
We can be divine.
Shabbat Shalom and Happy Weekend
I always thought that the critical response from Cain to God's query about Abel's whereabouts after the first human-on-human crime tells us everything we need to know about our choice in this world: השומר אחי אנכי. Read as a question, it's Cain being coy. Read as a statement, it's Cain admitting to his failing. The reader chooses. (I bring this down from the RagBam, obviously.)