Last Shabbat the prayers about redemption from tyrants, Pharaoh and Egypt read in a way I had never experienced before. As I said in shul, we think of Egypt as a place of myth, and we mention it over and over in our prayers, always in connection with yetziat mitzrayim, the going-out from Egypt from oppression to freedom. Now it's happening before our eyes in that place. In a place that has never known a democratic regime, and has had three dictators since the 1950s.
Whatever else it means, the happenings in Egypt are the story of Exodus. Everywhere people march and act for their freedom, they are reenacting the original story. In many ways, it is the first Exodus that made the others possible. By giving the Jews, and through the Jews the world, a story that begins in oppression by a tyrant, weaves through difficulties, and ends in (tenuous) freedom. (For the story of how this has been true for hundreds of years over much of the world, read Michael Walzer's book Exodus and Revolution.)
As in the Torah, freedom is not just the moment when the whole people are safely across the Sea of Reeds. It is also the moment each person -- of the oppressed or of the regime -- decides to break the pattern, or to hope. We're seeing this in the remarkable actions of the Egyptian army, as well as the protesters.
Worry yes about what comes next and what it means for the Israel-Egypt peace. But I don't see how a Jew or an American cannot be fully in awe, and fully in support, of the change in Egypt. This is the core of who we are. We who have been so nurtured by, identified with, and defined by the experience of the Exodus cannot hedge on this. It's who we are. So lift that Kiddush cup a bit differently tonight, as you sing zecher litziat mitzrayim, a reminder of the Exodus from Egypt.
