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I don’t know about you all, but I find myself entering this extended weekend as if entering an apocalyptic fever dream. By apocalyptic, I mean in all senses of the word, on its spectrum from end times to mass redemption. And by fever dream, I mean in the sense of the real and the surreal blending in such a way that it is hard to know which way is up.

 We find ourselves on the precipice of a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas that, in its tenuousness, feels hard to grasp onto as material reality. It is clear that if one card is pulled, the whole thing crumbles.

We find ourselves on the precipice of a new presidency that likely will spell disaster for so many, and very well could mean a new world order, if said president gets his way. 

And all of this swaddled in a weekend meant to celebrate and uplift the radical and liberatory work of a man who, despite deeply understanding the power structures built to keep him, black people, and all people down, chose, with ultimate faith, to believe in the possibility of a better world.

What an auspicious time for the Book of Exodus to enter the scene.

As Jews, we see the Exodus story as our story. Our myth of origin. And it is. But it is also a liberation tale told by communities around the world, each seeing themselves in it, identifying with the story of the Israelites–identifying with their oppression, and seeing in it a prototype and a model for their liberation. 

So what lessons can we, both as Jews in particular, and seekers of liberation in general, learn in this moment from the Exodus story?

The Exodus story begins with the line “And a new king arose over Mitzrayim who did not know Joseph.” Rabbis debate. Was it actually a new king, or merely the old King having a change of heart? Some even went so far as to argue that it was the Old King who, after refusing the people’s request to oppress the Israelites and being deposed for it, is reinstated by the people under the condition that he does, in fact, oppress those that they fear.

We, too, are soon about to bring back to power an old-yet-new King –or, at least, he would like to think of himself as so–as a result of the will of the people.

So what can we learn from what happens next in the Exodus story?

Well, the first thing this old-new King first does is order the oppression of the Israelites through forced labor. But, as we learn, “The more they were oppressed, the more they increased.” So this old-new King needed a new tactic.

Sounds familiar, right?

So he said that all newborn baby boys must be killed upon their birth. And what did the Israelites do?

According to a Midrash in the Talmud, the women and those who could give birth went to great lengths to sensually arouse and seduce their partners in order to get pregnant. And when the time for giving birth arrived, they would go out into the field and birth their babies under the shade of an apple tree. Then, they would leave their babies without fear, for the Earth itself protected them, suckling them with stones flowing with oil and honey.

When the emissaries of the state of Mitzrayim would go out into the field to find and kill these newborns, a miracle would occur, and the babies would be absorbed into the earth. The emissaries would plow the fields, in search of the babies, to no avail. And when they finally gave up and left, the babies would sprout from the ground like the grass of the field.

So what happened to these babies?

It is said, when the Israelites reached the Red Sea and thought all was lost, it was these babies who had been born in the field and protected by miracles–now, much older– who were the first to recognize that all would be well. That their liberation would come.

I cannot help but, by this story, be reminded of the movement phrase “they tried to bury us; they didn’t know we were seeds.” This phrase, popularized by immigrant justice movements during Trump’s first term, has been used by movements the world over for decades, speaking to the resiliency of the global majority in the face of mass violence.

As we enter a weekend filled with uncertainty–the tenuousness of a ceasefire, a presidential inauguration and Trump’s first 24 hours as President, which he has promised will be a doozy, let us remember that, we too, are seeds.

We may feel buried under the weight of the world right now. But, when the time comes, we will sprout so powerfully that no one–no system–can stop us. We, the people, will be the heralds of collective liberation.

Shabbat Shalom everyone.

R'Faryn