A Journey Into the Night

Written in the same journal, during a weekend at a learning program in Monsey, New York.

Why do Jews think about Egypt every day, when once a year they have a holiday that celebrates the event? Why are we always leaving Egypt as children entering a desert? Are we so forgetful that we need daily reminders of Egypt? Even on G-d's day off, Shabbat, we think about Egypt. As one rabbi puts it: why do we have this fetish for Egypt?

Simply put, it would seem that such an important historic event for a nation should be thought about. But every day? Americans don't think about, or thank anybody for, the Fourth of July every day. Americans only think and talk about it on that day. It would seem there is more to our obsession than remembering a historic event. I am going to offer the opinion that we Jews think about Egypt every day because of what Egypt represents, what leaving represents, and what entering the desert represents.

Egypt, as most people know, was at the time the pinnacle of ancient civilization. It had the best scientists, the best army, the best religion, the most wealth, and slaves. Now, slavery is never good in the moral sense, but it can be comfortable for the slaves. A slave's basic needs are taken care of by the master. He is an animal with no thoughts or desires beyond what is necessary to make it to tomorrow. He is a tamed animal.

Along comes Moses. After he performs some pretty good "magic" tricks, Pharaoh decides to "let my people go." But then his heart hardens, and we have the Ten Plagues. The initial flight from Egypt was one of faith: the leap into the night that we all make as humans in the quest for the Greater Truth. Moses was speaking of a Greater Truth, and 600,000 men listened.

Quickly, however, people's faith subsides. The first sign is at the Red Sea. The Sea is a metaphor for any obstacle in one's undertaking of faith. With the enemy right behind, the plunge forward must be made. The enemy here represents doubts and the past self. The crossing was a literal event, but it was also a test of faith. To conquer the first in a series of tests, the nation of slaves had to show some conviction that the path they had set out on was the correct one.

However, such a spiritual journey does not end quickly. The desert represents confusion, and the sense of awe that comes with spiritual renewal or awakening. The desert is an awesome physical environment that demands man's complete reliance on G-d to survive. Yet despite all of Israel's physical needs being met every day, doubts still surface. They even fight a battle with Amalek, the human representative of doubt, or disbelief.

Finally, after fifty days of wandering, they are ready for the ultimate experience: direct evidence that the whole process was not in vain. The story should end there. But alas, even G-d directly revealing Itself to man does not ensure instant results. People have free will. The obligation, the responsibility, the irrationality: all of it was too much. It was so much easier to worship a golden calf made of earrings than the Truth. The process needs more time, we find out. Forty years, to be exact. Not only that, but the entire generation that left dies in the desert. But was it a literal death, or the death of their old selves?

What is to be learned from all this, and what are the answers to my opening questions? Every day one is confronted with obstacles, external and internal. The process of self-discovery is one long journey that must begin with leaving the comforts that enslave us. Once we set out into the darkness of this new search, we are confronted by new troubles. Only after constant effort and daily trust in the path will G-d reveal Itself to the person. Even this is not the end, only a new beginning: a new step in understanding the meaning of life.

Passover is more than matzah and the absence of chametz. It is more than remembering a historical event. Passover, and our daily remembrance of it, is the realization that spiritual growth is a journey into the night.