doing something is everything

Let me begin by praying, with all my heart, that the ceasefire actually begins on Sunday. 

I pray that both Israeli and Palestinian hostages/prisoners can return home and that we can see this ceasefire through. Blessed are you, God, who frees captives. Please God let there be peace. 

This has been a disorienting week. Despite more than a year of organizing for a ceasefire and to stop the new Arena in Chinatown, the nearly simultaneous announcements came as surprises. I definitely feel gratitude, joy and relief. There is reason to celebrate. 

But if I am honest, I also feel wary. My heart doesn't trust it. If tectonic changes can happen overnight for the better, they can also happen for the worse. Strangely, these relatively good announcements have led me to further brace myself for Trump’s inauguration on Monday (and its disgraceful coincidence with MLK Day). 

As I studied this week’s parsha, Shemot, I found great comfort in beginning the book of Exodus in this political moment. For as long as there have been people organizing themselves into societies, there have been oppressive tyrants. And in response people have cultivated their spiritual lives to build inner strength and collective power to free themselves. 

Yet I am nervous that under Trump I/we will feel mistakenly powerless. This worry led me to zoom in on a particular moment in this week’s parsha that I want to highlight for all of you. 

In Exodus 1, the very first chapter, Pharaoh sends a decree to the Hebrew midwives, (sidenote: Were they Hebrews or just midwives to the Hebrews? It’s unclear and significant because they may have been acting on behalf of their people or in solidarity with the Hebrews.) ordering them to kill all of the male babies. Without skipping a beat or even a verse, they defy Pharoah’s instructions. 

וַתִּירֶ֤אןָ הַֽמְיַלְּדֹת֙ אֶת־הָ֣אֱלֹהִ֔ים וְלֹ֣א עָשׂ֔וּ כַּאֲשֶׁ֛ר דִּבֶּ֥ר אֲלֵיהֶ֖ן מֶ֣לֶךְ מִצְרָ֑יִם וַתְּחַיֶּ֖יןָ אֶת־הַיְלָדִֽים׃
But the midwives held God in awe, and they did not do as the king of Egypt had spoken to them; they let the children live (Exodus 1:17).

I am struck by the fact that the text goes on a grammatical whim to describe the yirah, the awesome fear, that enabled these women to defy Pharoah. Their fear of undermining their own spiritual beliefs was so much stronger than their fear of Pharaoh. From the midwives I learned that it's possible to spiritually redirect my fear of a ruler of flesh and blood and to remember that the deeper risk lies in undermining my own spiritual and political convictions, denying my own power.

And not only that, but when Pharoah realizes as much, he questions them directly, and they make up an amazing excuse and brazenly lie to his face: 

וַתֹּאמַ֤רְןָ הַֽמְיַלְּדֹת֙ אֶל־פַּרְעֹ֔ה כִּ֣י לֹ֧א כַנָּשִׁ֛ים הַמִּצְרִיֹּ֖ת הָֽעִבְרִיֹּ֑ת כִּֽי־חָי֣וֹת הֵ֔נָּה בְּטֶ֨רֶם תָּב֧וֹא אֲלֵהֶ֛ן הַמְיַלֶּ֖דֶת וְיָלָֽדוּ׃
The midwives said to Pharaoh:
Indeed, not like the Egyptian-women are the Hebrew-women,
indeed, they are lively:
before the midwife comes to them, they have given birth! (Exodus 1:19)

The next four years are daunting and there is reason to be afraid. But what the midwives remind me is that we are not powerless. From the birthing stone to the border wall, we will each be called to defend human dignity and maybe even life itself. Let us remember that the midwives and Torah are on our side. And let us muster the spiritual resolve to do what is within our power. 

Daniel Berrigan, the Jesuit priest turned anti-war organizer, once wrote: “One cannot level one’s moral lance at every evil in the universe. There are just too many of them. But you can do something; and the difference between doing something and doing nothing is everything.”

I have deep faith in our ability to do something, individually and collectively. 
For this week, dayenu, that is enough.